13

  I stared down through a thin glass plate at an empty
operating room. The chrome table was only six or eight feet below,

A two foot differential for such a low number? That's odd. I would think

it

more likely he'd say seven or eight.

funny you should mention that. I first heard of this two-foot-differential'
phenomenon in Lethal Weapon 1, when Riggs says he shot a guy in Malaysia or
something from a thousand yards away, and that only eight or ten guys in the
world could have made that shot. I thought: eight or ten? Why not nine or
ten? Where did he get that? Whats happening here?! Years passed, life went
on, and I finally reconsiled myself fully with Mel's strange manner of
speech. But you know what they say about love and hate. The appearance of an
unexpected two-foot-differential can do a lot to a man's inner psyche. I
became consumed by it. I found myself babling "Eight or ten! Eight or ten!"
all the time and one day I realized I had to get it out of my system fast
before it devoured me and I was no more. So I changed it around a little and
used it here. It sounds kind of masculine. Then again, maybe I'm just
coping.

  I got off my stomach, and tried to stand up without hitting
the laser generator's thick metal housing. The small space was
extremely dark and cramped, as it was only meant to hold the laser,
but it suited my purposes fine. I sat back against the thin shelves
lining the six walls and tried to stretch my feet out. I pushed well
greased engine parts out of the way and cleared some space to lie
comfortably. There was little fresh air. I wondered if I had time to
do anything about it, but kept that thought in its initial stage. The
operation could take place anytime now, and I was not sure at all
that Zig would even be awake when he was wheeled in.

I would think not. Less likely to resist.

  My body was most likely getting back on a normal adult
male schedule, after having it hastily reborn from the very first cell
in the merusion chamber.

Heh. So he wants to stay up late and wake up late. I see.

 It was evident that a lot more had gone

on in there than had been planned.

Well, it all depends on whose plan you're referring to.

Since White's intentions had

been to bump me off,

I'd say 'intention' since there's only one mentioned.

  And then there was the fact that Alethea killed me, yet here
I am. She had not understood it either; while monitoring me on a
lab computer, she must have dismissed my aberrant vital signs as
products of the merusion which she well knows to be
unpredictable. But I had been there too, I had been me, and one
knows when one has died.

Not true.  What if you did die and just don't remember it. Could have
happened to anyone, and you wouldn't know, since you don't remember. :)

  It must have been about five hours later that I heard the first
scream. It was the high pitched scream

Two 'scream's close together. I'd lose one and change it to something else
or reword things.

of surprise and pain that we

emit solely to take our mind of

off

what is happening, and save our

otherwise-pure train of thought. He took a breath and screamed
some more, and I was over by the window in a second, jamming a
red button on the apparatus above me.

  Down on the long white table, Zig's prone body was
strapped down by the wrists, ankles, and neck. A gray haired man I
had never seen before wearing full surgical gear leaned over him,
and made a second slow slice through his lower torso

Oops. Too late.

  There they were, just like I thought they would be. Rufius
stood in the doorway, not needing to look up to know what was
happening. Behind him, White kept glancing around his shoulder
impatiently. It had clearly been a trap but I had not had any choice.
It was either risk getting caught by them, or wait around while Zig
got dissected alive. I heard him behind me weakly say my name
while I watched for Rufius to move.

Yep. He called it.

  "Oh how nice," he said in that loud bass voice of his,
looking like a great water logged cadaver. "You came back for
your friend." Even his sarcasm sounded premeditated.

Heh. I can see that.

  I have never felt inclined to indulge in the 'witty repartee'
that goes on whenever archenemies come face to face

face-to-face

with each

other for the first time.

That's because he's not good at it. It's just another form of combat, one

of

verbal acumen. :)

I yelled "Fuck you!" at the top of my lungs,

and jammed my entire handful of scalpels into the face of the
doctor who sat at my feet. They went right into his head and he
slumped over with a pitiful spasm. If that didn't get this party
rolling, nothing would.

No mention of gushing fonts of blood?

not here, I was trying to keep this fast and strained, rather than visually
pleasing. Like frantic, bad-decision making.

  "Pull!" I yelled to Zig, and he did so as hard as he could. I
saw a white dot appear on the leg that White was now trying to
yank back into the operating room. I got my other foot all the way
through and pushed off the rim of the opening. Whites

White's

  The timer hit zero, and the white light from the
semitransparent lens red shifted. Voltage surged within a
long cylindrical tube, causing argon gas to release high energy
X and Z rays in a focused beam. Earlier, I had used a panel to
raise the standard power outage by ten thousand percent.

That might work.

  "What did she say? I mean I saw her briefly when they
threw my ass in a cell, and she was acting really strange. Why is
she here anyway?"

  As we took turns and staircases, I explained to Zig about
Alethea's involvement with Wells, White, and the psionics. I told
him about how she was working with the cops to try to get some
government help in on assassinating Rufius, who had become
public enemy number three.

I'd say in reality he's closer to number one.

bad reference here. Chris and the old woman are  numbers one and two, i
guess it was a long shot to say that without mentioning the facts.

  "I don't think so, or at least not right now. All the rumbling
and shaking you heard is the sound of Tank Division salvoes,
topside. Ghast and the rest of his platoon have surrounded the
place, and are tearing it down from without under the old woman's
orders. When we get out of here, we're gonna be in the middle of a
riot war. We just try to sneak away unnoticed and stay away from
everyone until the Coup

Not sure it needs to be capitalized.

  The Sexton took off his worn black cap, ran his fingers
through graying hair, and squinted in the dim florescent light. We
were all tired. "I tried to find the car that takes me home at night,
but it hasn't come yet, and it has been a half hour. I think Rufius
figured you two might try for it, and hasn't sent it around. But I
have another plan. This truck is dropping off medical supplies and
equipment here, but when it is done, it heads back to the east side
warehouses in the city. You can stow away in the trailer, and ride it
out."

Hmm. So despite the riot, some things are running normally.

yeah, it hasnt reached fever pitch yet. and still, the rioting is localized
to the more important districts, like The Plaza, Lanz Island, etc. The
freight line would likely still be open.

  The cargo trucks of the type he referred to are single units
almost ninety feet long, and are so heavy that they cannot start
from rest under their own power. Smaller trucks are used to pull
them until they reach forty mph or so when the tow chains are
dropped, and the truck can make a trip across the city, or out to
Lanz Island along the freight line. Only cargo trucks are allowed
on the freight line which parallels the train tracks between the city
and Lanz Island, and there are gates at either end which regulate
the transit. Stowing away in one would be risky, because White
could spot the vehicle on any electronic map or city scheme. But it
would have to do.

Well, he'd have to know they were on it to look for them.

well, this is where they are worrying about him putting 2 and 2 together

  "No, you dick," I said. "I want to read the label on this
canister. There's a box of them over there; I think it's a fire
extinguisher or something."

Why do I doubt if it's that simple?

  "No, no. Listen. On top of the truck. I'm serious."

  Zig shut up, and we listened intently for a second. It
sounded like footsteps on the roof, but they were very light, and
very slow. I pointed upwards, and mouthed the word "White?" to
Zig. He returned an unsure look, and we continued to listen.

It's bad, whatever it is.

  White lowered himself all the way down into the front seat,
and looked me in the eyes.

Persistant fellow, he is.

  Zig yelled "Shit it's him!" and I shared the feeling. White's
face and neck had partially melted, and reminded me of crayons
left out in the sun. Now completely hairless, his grotesque skin had
taken on a grayish tone. Missing an eye, he didn't look even
remotely man-like anymore. I ducked onto the floor and hoped he
wouldn't start blasting at me.

  White pulled back, and punched through the glass. He
cleared shards out with his long nails, and Zig took this
opportunity to swing the fire extinguisher down on Whites

White's

  There were several loud clanking noises before there was a
snap, and the truck suddenly decelerated. I could tell we were
losing forward momentum quickly, and secretly glancing through
the small opening, I saw the tug pull away from us. White had cut
the tow chains. The cargo truck slowed to a stop, paused
melodramatically, then started rolling backwards. Rolling back
down the ramp, the truck began to gain serious speed. White put
his head back at the window and stared into, and through, the
darkness, while I held my breath in an insecure hiding place.

Oh dear. That's bad.

  White was having trouble spitting, but said, "You can't
hide from me...you ants." He wheezed deeply. "You still have a
transmitter in your skull.

Thought so.

  He was abruptly cut off by the collision in question. Zig
and I were thrown forward through the boxes we had stacked, each
of us yelling in anticipation. Cushioned slightly, I hit the cargo
door with a crash as it broke inward and fell apart. A instant later
my discarded fire extinguisher flew into my back,

Ouch

and cursed at the thing to move faster.

  At last the doors opened, and we went in. Opting for the
lowest indicated basement level, Zig and I finally sat down on the
clean carpeted floor, and breathed heavily. I wanted to put as great
a distance as possible between me and the berserk.

berzerk? Do you mean berzerker, of the berzerk White or something?

yeah, maybe that was a bad line. just came out.

Zig agreed.

  "What now?" he asked, finally.

  "I don't know, man. I'm out of ideas. I have no idea

Two 'ideas' close together. I'd just say 'I don't know' for the second

one.

"KBJ?"

  "Think so."

  "Give it here," he said. He knew I didn't have a light, so he
just chewed the end. "If I go, at least it won't be on my knees."

  So I tried to think of something. It wasn't working. I felt
like tearing my hair out. The elevator rumbled to a stop, and we
got out. Walking along the hall, Zig and I both listened for the
sound of Wells

Wells or White? Thought Wells was dead.

arg, white, my bad again

  I was willing to bet that if I had known more about
computers, one of these things could have done the job. Zig knew
even less than I did, so there was no point in asking him. Plopping
my chin down into my hand, I tried to think, utilizing the problem
solving skills us leaders were supposed to have. The only people
who could open the lock were trying to kill me. Only by opening
the lock could I hope to kill them, or die trying. This was so bad.

You got that right.

  Zig, across from me, stood in front of the door and
examined the handle. He had been riveted there for quite a while
when I noticed he had dropped the cigar. I decided to get up and
see what interested him so much, when I realized I couldn't move
either. I panicked, struggled to fight it, but I was in thrall again
sitting frozen like my buddy the Thinker. My heart was unbound,
though, and it raced in fear. I didn't want it to end like this.

Looks like it, though.

  "Funny...I would have thought you to run around
looking...for my daughter the first chance you had." He picked me
up effortlessly with one hand, grabbed Zig with the other, and
carried us both inside the vault. He then dropped us both on the
floor, and shut the door behind him. A second later, and I could
move again.

Heh. Well they thought they wanted inside. Now they are.

  "No, Rufius never underwent the process himself. He had
that part of his own mind subjugated long before he found me. A
genetic freak I imagine, but a genius nonetheless. The power was
his from the start. There were many failures in our first batch of
test subjects; brain death, multiple personality syndrome, and a
host of others which even now have not been completely
eradicated. But one day we got it right. Not wanting to leave any
loose ends, Rufius and I slaughtered all that had been tested
beforehand, and then used the chamber on me. I was the first to
survive the process, maturing fully."

Hmm. Makes sense so far.

good

  Zig and I glanced at each other, and I sat up. White didn't
turn around. Zig saw White standing before the Yuma machine,
paused in thought. As for myself, this sudden openness was much
stranger to me then White's change in tone. Nothing had me
believing that the villain ever really reveals his plans at the very
end,

Some do. It's a chance to brag, and obviously White wants someone to know

of

his 'genius' that he's had to keep secret for years.

i hope hes not dipping into stereotypes here

  And he said this last thing while looking at the machine, for
a second almost looking wistful. "You are so vain. And yet Rufius
accepted that. He wanted to you're your power

wanted to what? That doesn't read right.

i think it was 'give you your power'

and your will so

that the limitless expanses of good would be unsoiled in your heart.
He was sucking up all the evil power to leave you with the helpless
good. You would have been the one to see the future. Only you,
and not ever me."

  Oh sweet Jesus. Upon his mentioning it, I suddenly
remembered thousands of conversations I had had with the man
Rufius in my past. A sudden deluge of feelings and regrets. Those
last words from White had been correct, if none of the rest. I
pictured Rufius in my mind, imagining himself on a cross so that I
would be free. I couldn't understand it. I couldn't speak I

speak. I

  "So your memory has finally come together, neh? You
know how our mercenary Mr.

mercenary, Mr

Chris Dais trained

Dais, trained

 you in an

underground cell, where you served time for a crime you had not
been alive to commit? Do you remember the chamber, and the
tests, and the human guinea pigs that we--you and I, Screw-
killed together? Do you remember the blood and pain caused by
the power *you* had, that *you* initially used, laughing at your limits
just like I did?" He smiled. "Yes, I think you do remember that,
don't you Screw."

  I tried to swallow with out choking. "Yes." I said.

"Yes," I

My, he was a bad guy at one time. What a surprise.

well, it depends on your point of view. at one time he didnt care about
manmade 'synthetic' laws either and wanted nothing but advancement of the
self, higher power and knowledge, an almost Faustian will to ignore the
voice of reason

  Well pushed

White

jesus, ive read over this stuff many times and i didnt notice that. Thats
what you get for having two W names.

  "You were a fool, Zigwell! A fool! Only a know-nothing
fool such as you would have believed the lines of utter shit that
Chris and I fed you, while you spent two years in Detox for heroin
addiction. You had an even weaker, more malleable mind than we
could have hoped for. Screw here was never your friend before his
prison sentence. He is an undying parasite who jumps from life to
life giving up his past and his memories to fill a new position that a
stronger will always chooses for him. Rufius' will. One of the
other four immortals." He laughed again. "And you can't even find
the grounds to distrust me anymore because Screw admits it now!
Don't you, Screw! Because you had never raced a car in his life,

your life

had you, Screw?"

Hmm. I think I get it.

  "No." I

No,"

said weakly.

  "And you had never fired an energy weapon or killed a
bunch of gangboys, had you?!"

 "No." I said again.

"No,"

  "What was that?!" White screeched. He stood up, and
immediately showed he had taken damage to the face from Zig's
blows. He hopped lightly on one foot, and brought the other
savagely into Zig's back. He smiled, pleased at the cry he received.
"You are my dog, to beat whenever the inclination arises. Unlike
Screw who

Screw, who

seemed like he was about to say something for a second, but
suddenly whirled back around with a blank look on his face. With
his raised right hand he caught White by the neck, shifted his
weight, and surged back over the guard rail. White's body took
flight.

Hmm. Could be the end for both of them.

  Yuma's sleek steel gears accepted the body with a chorus
of grinding shrieks. His body contorting, White's scalp fell among
contact points and split down the middle. The dead-white skin and
scar tissue parted with a nauseating rip. But no blood ran from that
body. Instead flowed forth chains dripping with his ichor.
Hundreds of sharp, black metal links spilled out into the
machinery. The cogs and gear spokes caught on them and sucked
them through, winding foot after foot of White's internals into the
Yuma machine's motors.

Blech. What a messy demise.

  "That was a surprise." Zig panted when it was over. He did
not appear emotionally aggravated. Instead, dark splotches had
appeared through his bandages. "Did you see that shit?"

He did say he had replaced it all.

  I paused and glanced back toward the large metal doors of
Yuma. Behind them was a part of me that I would never outrun. I
would have to face it every day until god decided the debt was paid
off, and I could return to a life I called my own. If I could ever
accept it. But it no longer seemed like such a tragedy. There would
be more, time and need. For me there might always be more.

  Walking out of the room, I said, "My name is Das
Uberdog."

Heh. interesting change. though there's still Rufius to consider. But at
least Screw's come into full knowledge of at least part of his past,

though

I wonder who the other two immortals that White referred to are. I assume
they'll come into play at some point in the next part.

whee! yes. The big four will play the biggest part in this, though more in
the fourth part than in the third.

Not sure of what else to say other than it was an interesting ride and

look

forward to getting o the the next few parts. Prose flowed well, and your
style has shown marked improvement from when you started this piece. Only

a

handful of errors, including referring to White as Wells a couple of

times.

Look forward to learning even more about Screw and Alethea.

D.B. Sommer

thank you. the style keeps changing the more I write, I dont seem to have a
handle on it anymore. The thing about this story is that its hard to
categorize outside of its own context, so dont feel obligated to try. Just
read it for what it is, and see if anything deep responds. I think when
finished, the metaphor will be pretty clear. But I dont know, I have written
the end of it yet, and there is always room for change. Keep reading and
commenting. Alethea is out of the picture now for a while, but dont worry,
she and Screw will definitely have their turn. Stay tuned.


aescension
www.geocities.com/aescension



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