Computer Down

I hate being without my computer. Feels like a part of me is gone.

Really...

Still no word from that girl I met almost two weeks ago after she texted and called me last Friday. I'm not exactly sure what I did to piss her off.
Maybe it's just my cheerful nature.

Still writing

Even if I'm not always posting the results.
Not everything is worth sharing.
This is coming from a guy who had no problem sharing that I haven't had sex in ten years.
I'm coming to the realization that I want to be in a relationship, but I can't just do that with anyone. It has to mean something.
A little over a year ago I met a girl on plenty of fish. We were hitting it off and I went to go meet her. Right away she started talking about having kids and getting married. This is date one.
My love history is kind of crap. It's no wonder I romanticize what M and I had together.

Leaving it alone, it works

She texted me earlier wanting to hang out. Unfortunately, I have to be at work in a little while. Otherwise I would have gone over there. Dammit!

Also

I am sick. My nose is running. Last night I was feverish. I generally feel like shit.
It's not like I could really do anything with her if she did call me.
I was just on Facebook. We know a couple of the same people, so I went over to her page and took a look. Just photos. I am obsessing now. I have to stop.
Closed the page. Going to work on my friend's website.

Disappearing act

If something keeps happening to you situation after situation, you have to come to the conclusion that you're the problem, right?
Case in point, I met a girl at work and she seemed in to me and wanted to hang out after she went over to her friend's place. I say cool, call me.
She didn't call that night. I text her the next day and say fell asleep, maybe we can do something later today or tomorrow. I hear nothing back.
At this point I'm about ready to write her off, but I am an optimist at heart so I giver her a call. Voicemail. Joy. I leave a voicemail. No pressure, just give me a call when  you can, you have my number.
That was the day before yesterday and I have not heard a single thing from this girl. I didn't message or call her yesterday or today. The ball is entirely in her court. I will probably never see or speak to her again.
I can't even pinpoint what it is I did or said to her that put her off. I'm just not good with the beginning part of relationships where everything is so fragile. It was probably a comment that I would never think twice of saying and boom she's gone.
Or maybe I have a stalker that gets rid of any girl with the slightest interest in me. That would suck too.

Thanks, whoever made this Rage Comic

Why was he here?

Strange conversations

The strangest conversation I've ever had was in a Krispy Kreme drive through.
A little back story. The lady working inside had previously worked with me at a different location.
Lady: Hey Jason.
Me: Oh, hi! How are you?
Lady: I'm good. Did you hear Charlene killed herself in  prison?
At this point the car behind me started honking and I had to go. I never saw her again. I have no idea why Charlene was in prison. We used to hang out and go have drinks after work and almost five years after the last time I saw her, she is dead at her own hands in prison for a crime I can't even imagine. My devastation at this news I heard third hand is miniscule compared to the suffering her family felt.
There is no editorial for this. It just popped into my head because I heard a song that had the same be as her daughter. Every time I hear it I both wish I knew more and that whatever happened hadn't.

God, sometimes you just don't come through.

 
   When I look back, I'm not sure I ever believed in any sort of god.
   That might look a little bleak to some of you, but let me elaborate a little. There were times when I've thought god was real, sure, but belief requires faith. Faith is a thing I've never felt a capacity for within myself.
  Which is not to say I didn't want to believe. I truly did. I've tried to have faith, but I can believe two impossible things before breakfast and still find god beyond credulity.
  I guess it's helpful sometimes to ask yourself if god shaped holes actually exist within ourselves. Also, what shape, exactly, is god?  I think if such an aperture exists, it must be very small and more dependent on Maslow than messiah.
 I've always thought religion to be the most personal thing about a person, and, if asked, I will just say Buddhist because most people don't know that it requires no faith, nor does Buddhism really require anything of you in the way of dogma or proselytizing. They are a fairly chill bunch and I thank them for that.
  I don't care about peoples' religion. I do care about how they treat the people around them. I don't care if you honor the sabbath on Sunday or Saturday or Friday, but for the love of all that is good, don't jump Bill Nye because he's trying to tell you the truth. Bill Nye is awesome. Seriously.

Notes on a Disappearance

Excerpt from the Boston Globe January, 26 1874 Society Page:
Radcliffe - Fontescue Nuptials postponed indefinitely. The event, scheduled upon successful return of Adventurer Reginald Radcliffe, to Penelope Fontescue has been postponed. Commodore Gerald Fontescue regrets to announce that Radcliffe has not yet returned and his whereabouts remain unknown. Radcliffe disappeared on assignment last week along with an entire squad of Coalition soldiers and his young ward, Jeremiah Rickets.
Search parties have not found any sign of them and abduction has not been ruled out. The Globe will update this story as further details develop.

From the correspondence of Doctor Henry Glass and Gianni Herbert:
Gianni,
I hope that this note finds you well. We are all hoping that you will come to visit us at the Monmouth lab soon. We have been doing amazing things with slow-time and short term time reversal. I know your interests lie more in theoretical work, but I have a few things I could show you that would leave you breathless.
My staff have been on edge about security, lately. It seems as if we might have an impostor with us. Stevens is the most likely suspect. I’ve discovered some discrepancies in his resume that he will have to resolve.
I’m afraid that I do not have any news regarding Reginald, as of yet. The Council keeps denying me access to the scene, and I have yet to find a good reason for them to do so. I’m afraid I will have to take matters into my own hands here, Council’s blessing or no.
I have filed another appeal. If they do not respond favorably I shall pack up my equipment and attempt to find him myself. Do not try to dissuade me. I must know. They have a week to decide. There is no shortage of adventuring spirit in the Glass line. They will discover that soon enough.
I wish I could write you under more pleasant circumstances, but life is what happens when we make other plans as someone wiser in the ways of philosophy once said.
I am afraid I must cut this short as I have promised to escort Lady Dunham to Chatham today. I do hope you will visit us here before the week is up.
Your friend,
Henry

Henry,
It is fortuitous that your letter arrived here today, as I have business in Monmouth in a few days. I hope that your trip to Chatham was pleasant. I know that Lady Dunham has wanted to go for some time now.
As to Reginald; I know you don’t want to hear this. I don’t want to say it. I don’t want you to get your hopes too high. There’s a very good chance that he is dead. The report I read this morning mentions that Delta’s airship had crashed thirty miles from the operational area. Someone activated the self destruct and only one whirly was missing. There was no further information.
Do me a favor and erase this as soon as you read it. My source only told me to get you to let up on the council. This is serious, Henry. There’s no legal obligation, naturally, but having an entire competition go missing is a huge public nightmare for them. They would rather this resolve itself, or have everyone forget. To that end they will probably approve your request. If they do, I’m going with you. Maybe it will be like it was at Harvard. We’ll stumble on the answer and everyone will call us geniuses.
I do hope that Old Reg is safe. If he is, I know we can find him.
Gianni

P.S. Have you sorted your little security problem?

Internal Council MEMO: Department of Artifacts and Recovery:

RE: MARCURIO’S MIRROR PROJECT - CURRENT STATUS
CC: ALL WITH LEVEL 3 AND ABOVE SECURITY CLEARANCE
PRINCIPLES ARE STILL MISSING.
AS WE HAVE ALREADY SENT THREE SEARCH TEAMS TO FIND THEM, AND THE DEADLINE IS COMING UP FOR THE COMPLETION OF ACTIVITIES, BE ADVISED THAT THE COUNCIL IS PREPARED TO WRITE OFF EXPENSES FOR ANY AND ALL EXPEDITIONS TO RECOVER. PLEASE REFER TO [REDACTED] FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS. [REDACTED]
SIGNED
[REDACTED]
Letter to Dr. Henry Glass January, 26 1874
Dr. Glass,
I must confess that I am the one who betrayed you. Stevens never would have done that. His resume on file is a forgery as I do not doubt you have discovered by now. I was the one who placed it there to throw you from my scent.
Ayres’ henchmen approached me with a briefcase full of gold. I did not ask where they got the money. I only asked what I needed to do. It seemed so harmless.
I’ve needed money for so long that I jumped at the chance to replace the inner workings of your Restore Button with useless wadding and a homing device. I had no idea that Radcliffe would not come back from his expedition due to my actions. I might still have done it, but I don’t feel good about it.
By the time you receive this, I will be gone. Do not try to find me. I am dead to the world and about to be reborn.
Your former employee,
James Conley
Entry from an Unsigned Journal found aboard a derelict schooner dated February 1, 1874:
It is up to me now. I’ve just received word that there is to be a civilian expedition to suss out what happened to Jeremiah and the rest. I should have never left him with Reginald, but there was too much at stake if he had stayed with me.
The mission is complete. It has been for six months. I just haven’t had the strength yet to face him. I can explain myself and take the consequences. I hope tha2t he can forgive me. I don’t know if I can forgive myself. What I’ve done so far has stained my conscience beyond all repair. I have ripped out and burned all journal entries relating to my unpleasant tasks. I should burn the whole thing, but habit forces me to keep writing as if to reassure myself of my humanity.
I’m going, if not just to find Jeremiah, but to put my mind to rest. Glass will have to deal with me tagging along, whether he wants to or not.
All pages leading up to this entry and after it, are burnt to ash.

To the Airship

The remote sailed into Hades, just missing the trigger switch, it bounced back toward Radcliffe just out of his reach. The alarm that shrieked from the collar was a loud staccato that dug into everyone in the chamber’s ear drums making the sound of grinding teeth sound pleasant in comparison. The LED started flashing a violent red. The countdown had started. If Ayres was not close the remote again in ten seconds, he could say goodbye to breathing.
Creech didn’t waste time. As soon as the remote landed, he punched Ayres in the gut and threw him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Creech took long strides toward Hades, praying that he would make it in time, cursing himself for having to save Ayres’ life. He also cursed Ayres because apparently he had lost control of his bladder.
He covered the distance with seconds left to spare. The alarm suddenly switched off. It gave the cavern an eerie silence that seemed worse, somehow. Creech set Ayres down and picked up the remote. Ayres’ churning gasps for breath replaced the deafening silence of the room.
Delta had stopped in their tracks. Their current tasks forgotten for a moment, replaced by spectacle. Creech’s gaze feel upon Dobson, who quickly remembered an appointment with a bookshelf on the other side of the chamber. The rest of Delta took his cue and set back to their work.
“Now, I hope that will be an adequate lesson to you. Mister Radcliffe, please retrieve the remote control. I don’t think that we’ll have any further feistiness from our friend here.”
Radcliffe pushed himself up from the floor. This was turning out to be not so good a day for remaining upright. He walked to where the device landed and plucked it up daintily.
Cappy looked down at her shoes. Disappointment washed over her. She had not anticipated Radcliffe’s fumble, but it would have taken care of at least one problem. Of course it would have meant an investigation. That would just be disastrous for her career, but Ayres made her want to put that aside. His years of freedom were like a burr under her skin.
‘Creech is right, though. There’s only one thing to do. Get him to justice, put him on trial and let the courts decide his fate.’
“Mister Radcliffe, I hope we won’t see a repeat performance of this little melodrama. Creech, put the squad in formation. We’re about to say goodbye to this charming piece of hell.”
Creech saluted and then quickly brought his hand down. He set about the task of getting Ayres back on his feet. It did not make him feel good to have saved the man’s life, but there were other considerations. Regulations were there for a reason. Delta would be different without Cap. He wouldn’t let her risk a career over this scum.
“All right, you heard the captain! Finish your tasks and get in formation. Yarborough, come help Balmforth with this stretcher. Long, you’ll be helping to carry our friend in the antechamber. Move.”
Delta moved swiftly, without hesitation. They had already finished minutes ago, but they made themselves busy rooting through papers to make sure they’d not missed anything. Radcliffe’s show had proven somewhat distracting, however, and the members of Delta had a deep admiration of Cappy. There was no way that they would let her get in trouble over this.
Cappy walked briskly over to where Delta stood. She inspected them closely. They looked none the worse for their ordeal here, of course none of them were as personally involved as she was. She motioned for Creech to get them moving.
Delta marched, ready to get back to the airship. They collected Austen back into the fold, still moving. They gained the entrance and moved briskly past the pointing tree into the windswept clearing beyond.
Radcliffe walked in silence considering the fate of his ward. It would take him a while to recover, though he’d already showed signs of stirring. The boy’s body still moved in slightly in fast forward. It seemed that he had aged slightly. There was no way to tell how the potion had affected him or would continue to as the days wore on. He could only hope that the boy’s metabolism would run its course quickly, allowing Jeremiah to resume his former life.
Cap had been correct about Ayres staying close to him. The acrid odor of urine assaulted him every other step. Ayres bumped into him every tenth. Radcliffe didn’t think Ayres was trying to jostle the remote from him. He was being very careful to hold it gently. He did not want to repeat his fumble.
Delta assembled next to the whirlybird and waited while Pitts got it ready to fly. Pitts had been uneasy with the business in the cave, but getting back behind the flight yoke of his baby pushed all of that to the back burner. This was his element and he was of it. He flicked the power switch, checked his safeties, and looked at the fuel gauge. It read empty. That was impossible. He had coasted on updrafts most of the way down. There was no reason for an empty fuel tank. He had made sure they were fully equipped with it.
He unstrapped himself and opened the cockpit door. As he stepped onto the snow to get Creech’s attention he felt a sharp pain in his leg. He looked down to determine the cause of the pain. A colorful dart jutted out of his leg. He felt woozy. His arms were heavy. It took all of his energy to try to shout a warning.
“Amb—“
Creech did not see Pitts fall, but he did hear him just before the world erupted in flames. All at once he became part of Delta, not just the voice they heard when it was time for action, but the part of the will of the unit. They formed themselves into an outward facing circle surrounding the principals of the mission.
A circle of flame roared around them. Delta watched for movement. Only the flames moved, the wind whipped them higher blowing the caustic smoke into their faces. Long fell, hard on his face, a dart stuck out of his neck. Austen fell next, then Yarborough. Cappy felt the unity of the group evaporating as each squaddie fell.
“They’re in the trees! Shoot the trees!”
Delta concentrated their fire toward the treetops. They heard a thump on the other side of the fire wall. They fired two more volleys and another thump just before Balmforth fell. A full half of the squad was on the ground now. Creech felt himself start to panic. His stomach had lied to him, and now everyone was in danger. He had to salvage this somehow. He had to act or they would never leave this snow packed hill.
He motioned for the remaining three squad members to follow him across the depleted fire line. Cappy stayed behind to try to protect Radcliffe and the others. She eyed them nervously and then returned her attention to the perimeter.
Creech approached the fire and prepared himself. He set his weapon to kill and gestured to the others to do the same. The fire had died down considerably, making a much less formidable obstacle for them. They leapt over it easily meeting no resistance on the other side until a dart hit Sierra.
His finger spasmed on the trigger as he fell. The first charge fired almost straight up, but, as he got closer to the ground, he spasmed again and Dibson’s head evaporated. Pink mist showered Creech and Dobson.
Creech looked on in horror as Sierra’s weapon fell from his numb fingers. Dibson’s body fell, gushing blood into the hard packed snow. Dobson wailed. His best friend was dead, pieces of his skull ran down his face. His legs felt as substantial as water. He fell to his knees crying. His neck hurt as if he had been stung. He slapped at the area of irritation and drove the dart further into him. He looked toward Creech as if he could ask him to bring his friend back to life and fell in a heap on top of his dead friend.
Creech couldn’t help himself. If he was going down, he would take one of their attackers with him. He ran toward a tree that he thought might contain one of their attackers. He climbed it easily after he’d found the simple rope ladder leading up to a wooden platform. He sensed someone behind him. Creech whirled around just as a rifle butt connected with his temple.
Cappy was panicked. Delta Squad had fallen apart like a cheap shoe. Her anxiety was getting the better of her. She stalked toward Ayres. He had to have something to do with this. Antags  hated that they were almost always on the losing end of the competition. He must have set up this little ambush as an insurance policy. Radcliffe stood in her way.
“Get out of my way. If I have to go through you to get to him, I will. One of my men is dead now because of him. Maybe I can use him to get us out of this.”
“Captain, if you feel that would be the best way, I encourage you to do it. But I will retain control of this. I wouldn’t want your emotions to get the better of you.”
“Fine. Keep it. Just get out of my way.”
Radcliffe stepped aside so that Cappy could pull Ayres to the dwindling fire perimeter. She shoved him to the ground and looked out to the tree tops. Then, after taking a deep breath, she shouted.
“You want him? Here he is. Come and get him out of my sight. Don’t forget about this jewelry he’s wearing. I’m sure you’ll be able to get at least ten feet before you’re picking him out of your hair.”
A cold voice drifted back to her. It made her want to curl up into a ball and never stop. It was dispassionate. There was no reasoning with the person behind it.
“If we wanted just your prisoner, we would have taken him by now.”
It was the last thing she heard before a dart hit her in the chest. She looked to her right to find Radcliffe had been shot as well. The darts poured the tranquilizer into them with cold efficiency. Radcliffe flopped to the ground just before Cappy fell into darkness.

Extraction

Creech felt their bad situation getting worse the moment Balmforth removed Ayres’ mask. The look of shocked recognition on Cappy’s face made him terribly uneasy. He moved, but it was too late. Cappy had already slapped Ayres. This was not going to look good on the report. He could only hope that he could get the men and women of the squad to keep silent on this.
He moved as quickly as he could to try to insinuate himself between them. Cappy’s fingers clutched at the villain’s greatcoat as if they were woven into the fabric. Creech separated the two of them and walked Cappy into the corner.
“Stay here a moment. They need something to do. We need to talk.”
Cappy glared coldly in Ayres’ direction. She grunted assent and stood there against the wall. Creech’s stomach tensed. He willed himself not to vomit. He was sure that if his body tried, there would be nothing to vomit except for bile. The feeling passed.  Creech thanked his body for not betraying him this time. He walked over to where Delta stood and motioned for a huddle.
“I want Dobson, Yarborough, and Pitts searching for documents, look for anything that looks like a journal or grimoire. The boys back at base will want to have every single piece of information on this artifact available to them. Long, Dibson, and Sierra, I want you to get this mirror in containment, then look for a way to transport these potions. When you’ve got that done, I want you to help the others with the document search. If you find anything, and I mean anything, that seems strange get it into a containment bag. That is all. Get to it, people. I want to be sitting in my cabin by sundown.”
Delta spread out and moved through the chamber. They were efficient, which made Creech proud, but that would not leave a lot of time for him to talk with Cappy. Creech walked over to where he left her. He was not looking forward to this.
“Creech, I’m going to be okay.”
“Somehow, I don’t think I believe you. If it were anyone else, I would nod and say perfect. You, on the other hand, cannot fool me, Cap. You are shaking. You slapped a prisoner. This is not what I would call okay.”
“Creech.”
“No, don’t think that I’m not going to go through this with you. I know this can’t be easy to talk about. It makes me sick just to think that this sicko has been running amok all of these years.”
“You’re not the only one. I bet he thought he could just blend in. He thought I would forget him. How do you forget something like that?”
“Do I need to relieve you from duty?”
“No, that is not going to happen. We’re going to finish this. Just keep that thing away from me.”
“It’s not really up to you, Cap, but you’ve got nothing to worry about here. I saw how easy it would have been for you to deck him. The fact that you kept your composure says volumes about your professionalism. We’re going to press charges against him. You’re going to testify. In the end, he’ll be under the jail. Are we clear?”
“Yes, we’re clear. Get a collar on him.”
“I’m not a fan of that, Cap. We are already in dangerous territory here, already. We put an explosive collar on this guy and we’re just asking for him to be decapitated. Everyone is on edge here. The squad would be looking for a reason to press the button.”
“Give it to Radcliffe. He’s not emotionally invested. This is just his job. He won’t do it unless he has to. He can’t get away, Creech. I won’t let him.”
“That’s better. I’ll call him over so we can discuss this. Mister Radcliffe, we need you for a moment.”
Radcliffe looked up from Jeremiah to see Creech motioning him over. He stood and straightened himself. He walked over and folded his arms. He had no reference for dealing with someone who had been attacked so intimately.
“Radcliffe, we’re going to ask something of you that is not exactly in protocol. We’re going to put a collar on Ayres. We want you to have control of the remote.”
“Why would you want me to do that? I know that he’s… I don’t know how to react to what he did to you. I just don’t know why you would task me with this.”
“We need an insurance policy, some way to make sure that he has no chance of escape. We’ll decollar him as soon as we get him in a cell on the ship but, until then, all that stands between him and freedom is a set of regulation shackles. We’re asking you to carry the remote because you don’t have a personal grudge against him. I would ask one of my people, but I’m afraid the squad may be on edge. I’m sure you can understand why that would be the case. Will you do it?”
“Yes, I’ll carry the remote. I just hope I don’t have to use it.”
“Creech, give it to him. Mister Radcliffe, I want to thank you for doing this. It takes a lot off of my mind. We’ll have you home before you know it this will be all a distant memory.”
“I don’t want you to think any more of it, Captain. This is something I do as a matter of honor.”
Creech was feeling better about the situation. He took off his rucksack, placing it carefully on the ground. He opened the catch on the front and pulled out the collar box. Suddenly, an idea occurred to him.
“We don’t actually have to arm it. There’s a way to make it look armed, but the explosives stay inert. That way it won’t matter who carries the remote.”
“No, he needs to know definitively that if he tries to run he will be a dead man. I don’t want him to think that he has even the slightest chance of getting away. I want it armed. I want him to know it. Make sure he hears the mechanism spin up when you put it around his neck. Show him the remote and then walk over to the far corner near Hades over there. I want him to know exactly how long that leash extends.”
“Does he really have that much leeway?”
“No. He does not. You’ll hear it beeping. Slow at first, but it speeds up as you get further away from him. This is as much for your benefit as his. When the indicator light turns yellow, stand there. Then start walking back to him. He’ll stick closer to you than your cologne.”
Radcliffe took the remote and placed it in the pocket of his parka. Creech offered him the collar and Radcliffe hesitated before finally accepting it. He looked at the contraption in his hand and was amazed that such a small device could kill a man.
“Is it armed?”
“No, Creech is going to help you with that. Then you’ll do the demonstration. Do it quickly. Make your point. I see that some of our worker bees have almost finished their tasks.”
Radcliffe walked over to Ayres and showed him the collar. The cold look in his eyes gave away nothing. Radcliffe sighed heavily and moved to place the collar.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m putting this collar on you. It’s not an arguable option, I’m afraid. It’s either this collar, or… Well, I would not like to be you right now.”
“Radcliffe, you can’t be this stupid. That is my death warrant you’re putting on my neck. Who’s going to have the remote? Her? She would kill me just as sure as you’re standing there with that pitiable expression on your face.”
“No, she is not the one holding the remote. It has fallen to me to do it. Now, are you going to let me do it, or do I have to get Lieutenant Balmforth here to sedate you first? I’m sure that would be safe with your possible concussion. You might not wake up at all. Which do you prefer, Cornelius?”
Ayres looked at Balmforth. A needle full of what he assumed to be enough tranquilizer to knock out a wild gorilla perched menacingly in his hand. Radcliffe waited patiently for him to make a decision. Ayres spit his next words, hissing them, hating the feeling of them in his mouth.
“Put it on my neck, then you fool. Let my death today be on your hands.”
“No one has to die here today. No on deserves to die here, not even that toady you shot earlier. Now, I’m going to lock it. Is it comfortable? We wouldn’t want to provoke chafing.”
“I’m honored that you would consider my comfort after all of our adversarial encounters. I shall remember you in my will. It’s a little snug, but I can live with it.”
Radcliffe produced the remote from his pocket. The LED blinked a pleasant green that Ayres thought was in stark contrast to the large red button on the face. Creech leaned in to turn a secondary arming key on the collar. It was now fully armed.
Radcliffe made a show of walking toward the statue of Hades. Ayres tried to follow, but Creech held him back. The green light on the remote started blinking. An alarm sounded on the collar.
Radcliffe walked a few steps more. The LED started pulsing a deep aggressive amber. Ayres struggled against Creech’s grasp to no avail. He was going exactly nowhere. The beeping on the collar became a shrieking siren, louder in the cavern than even Cappy had anticipated. Radcliffe gave himself permission to look back at Ayres’ panicked face and smiled. Cappy was right. This demonstration was going to make sure that the rotter behaved himself better than a tranquilizer. Had he been looking where he was going, he could have avoided tripping over the remains of Jeremiah’s trousers, sending the remote flying towards Hades.

Denoument

As Delta shuffled seamlessly into the main chamber, Radcliffe considered what the scene there looked like to fresh eyes. There he stood holding a phaser beam pistol behind a chest high obstruction, while Ayres and Jeremiah lay prone on the floor below him. It looked bad.
“Let’s see your hands, Radcliffe,” Cappy said, “I don’t want to have to stun you if I don’t have to.”
Radcliffe complied without hesitation. He reached for the ceiling . One of the squaddies plucked the weapon gently from his hand. 
“Now, turn around. Do it slowly or else you’re going to find out how my stunner tastes.”
Radcliffe turned to face the person barking orders to find Cappy there. Her finger rested on the trigger of a pulse rifle.  She looked at him with some suspicion. Radcliffe remembered the first time they’d met. She was a person who did not mess around when it came to her job, but he knew that if he played it straight with her, there would be no complications.
“Creech, I want you to go see if Balmforth and Austen have their patient under control and then get them in here to see about these two.”
Creech moved as she was giving her orders. He gave a sharp salute and trotted back through the doorway. Balmforth was finishing placing bandages on Hardigan while Austen completed the paperwork. Hardigan moaned. A trace of blood dribbled from his mouth. Balmforth wiped the blood and turned to face Creech.
“How’s the patient?”
Balmforth checked the patient’s vitals on the portable bioscanner. Pulse registered normal. Blood pressure was stable. All other vitals checked out. He just worried about potential spinal trauma.
“We’ve got him immobile and ready for transport, Cap. I don’t think he’ll be walking any time soon, but he’ll live.”
“That’s good. I need you two to get in there and take a look at the Rickets and the Antag. They’re down and we don’t know why yet.”
“This is turning into a bad job, Creech. Every minute we’re here I feel like an icicle is running down my back. It’s not that cold in here, but it’s driving me crazy. I just want to get back to the ship.”
“I know how you feel, but this shouldn’t take long. I think Cappy’s already debriefing Radcliffe. We get the mirror into the containment vessel and boom, out we go. Austen, keep an eye on this guy. We’ll be out of here before you know it.”
“I hope so, Creech. Let’s go see about our other patients.”
Balmforth shrugged his rucksack back on and followed Creech into the main chamber. Cappy had lowered her weapon, and was sitting next to Radcliffe on a low stone pew. His head was lowered on to his hands as he related the events leading up to Delta’s entrance.
Balmforth set to work visually scanning his patients in order to make an assessment of their wounds. He pulled the other bioscanner from his sack and attached leads to the patients. Ayres checked out normal aside from the goose egg on the side of his head. There was nothing wrong with him except for a possible concussion.
Jeremiah’s readings, however, both shocked and alarmed him. The boy’s pulse was racing. His heart rate soared, as did his blood pressure. There was also the unsettling way that parts of the boy seemed to become insubstantial.
“What the hell happened here, Mister Radcliffe? This kid looks like he’s about to explode.”
Radcliffe ran over to the medic. What he saw there made him gasp. Jeremiah’s leg was phasing in and out of view. As the pulse spiked, the leg became less visible.
“I don’t know. He seemed to be walking with some pain earlier. Maybe something broke in his pocket.”
“Then I suggest you go looking for a cause. Maybe that will point us to a cure here.”
“Right. I am on the move. Hang on, Jeremiah. We’re going to get you through this thing.”
Radcliffe ran over to where Jeremiah’s pants lay on the ground. He snatched them up and found one of the pockets to be a little heavier. He shook the trousers and heard soft tinkling from within. He reached into them and pushed the pocket inside out so that his hand would not get cut. Glass pieces tinkled out on to the floor. Residue of a red substance clung to some of the shards. The intensity of the glow seemed to match Jeremiah’s shifts in tangibility. Radcliffe stopped pushing the pocket when he saw a small label stuck to the inner lining. The delicate lettering on the handwritten label said ‘ταχύτητα’. Radcliffe easily translated this as ‘speed’ from the Greek.
Potions were a dangerous proposition for most people. An adolescent who took potions was taking their own lives in their hands. Potions worked on what was already there and in a body wracked by hormones and emotions, it was a maelstrom. It would start slowly and then push them past the breaking point endlessly until it wore off or the victim was dead.
“I found the cause. He must have used this vial from over on the work bench to fool Ayres into thinking he had a gun. It must have broken inside his pocket when he fell. I’ll have a look at the potions over there. It could be that there’s an antidote there.”
Radcliffe ran over to the work area. It was a cacophony of glowing vials. The confusion of lights made it difficult for him to isolate the labels at first, but, very shortly, he found a vial labeled ‘ειρήνη’ or peace. It glowed a soothing blue color that pulsed softly in stark contrast to the frenetic pulsing of the red potion. Radcliffe took it over to where Jeremiah lay.
“This should do it.”
Radcliffe started to uncork the vial, but Balmforth stopped him. Radcliffe looked at the medic with incredulity. Why was this man stopping him from saving his sidekick’s life?
“Are you sure about this? All we know at this point is that this is a magical malady.”
“I’m sure. We need to counter the first potion. We’re only going to need a drop. Get his mouth open so I can pour a drop in there.”
“Okay, but only a drop at a time until he normalizes. I just hope you got the right one.”
Radcliffe nodded and removed the cork from the vial. Balmforth tilted Jeremiah’s head back and opened his mouth slightly. He tipped it gently, letting a drop fall on the boy’s tongue. It had a slight positive effect on the bioscanner. It beeped less intensively. Encouraged, he drizzled a little more. The boy’s vital signs stabilized as the potions fought for dominance.
“It looks like it’s working. He’s going to be okay. We’re lucky you know what you’re doing.”
“Yes, we were lucky. Let’s just hope we’re not too late.”
Jeremiah’s leg turned a light shade of purple and phased back into reality. His pulse beeped normally. His blood pressure came down.
Radcliffe allowed himself to breathe again. That was one part of their business in the wrapper. He turned his attention back to Cappy. The look of concern on her face quickly vanished when she noticed Radcliffe looking at her.
“Is he going to be all right, Balmforth?”
“As best as I can tell, yes. He’s going to pull through. His vitals are strong. He has no visible signs of trauma. I would recommend potion counseling once we get back to the city, but, overall, I can safely pronounce him to be healthy.”
“Good, just make sure he stays that way. Okay, let’s get Ayres in bracelets. I don’t want him trying anything if you can bring him around.”
“Surely there’s no need for potion counseling. This was clearly an accident. I’m sure once we bring him around he’ll never want a potion again.”
“We like to err on the side of safety, Mr. Radcliffe. We don’t know what sort of side effects are involved here. It could lead to addiction.”
“I suppose you’re right, but I think the way he’ll feel when he eventually wakes up is going to be an effective deterrent.”
One of Delta moved forward to where Ayres was lying prone and pulled a set of shackles from her rucksack. She set about the task of fitting them to the wrists and ankles of the man. Once this was accomplished, she stepped back into formation.
Balmforth turned his attention back to Ayres. Masked, that was usually a problem. Masked antags hated being unmasked, but he had no choice. There were only two stretchers and if Balmforth could get Ayres up and walking again he was going to do it. He pulled the mask from Ayres’ head gently, not really knowing what to expect under there. Under the mask, an unfamiliar face greeted him. Not unexpected, he’d only been in Delta a few months, but he heard a shocked gasp behind him coming from Cappy.
He pulled a vial of smelling salts from the medical bag and held them under the man’s nose. Ayres coughed. He opened his eyes again and groaned.
“My, we have company Radcliffe. Oh, and your brat wore himself out from the beating he gave me. Look at him napping. He’s like a little lamb that brutally beat up a lion.”
“That’s enough, Ayres. Had I the opportunity, I would have delivered that thrashing myself. You’re lucky he only gave you a goose egg for your trouble.”
“You. Do you remember me?”
Ayres looked at Cappy. He seemed to consider the question for a moment. He put his hand up to where the mask’s chin usually sat and found nothing. He groped for it blindly. The anger on his face was terrible.
“Where is it? Where is my face?”
“That is not important right now. What is important is that you answer my question quickly, before I lose my patience. Do you remember me?”
“Hmm, you don’t look like the type of girl with whom I usually associate myself. Can you refresh my memory?”
Cappy dragged Ayres to his feet. She smacked his face a dozen times with the flat of her hand. She pulled back as if to punch him and the remembered her troops were watching and put her hands in his greatcloak. She clutched it so tightly she didn’t think she would ever be able to let go again.
“Not your ‘type’? Is that what you say to all of the women you’ve raped?”

Military Intervention

Creech Duncan looked over the mission and scowled. This was an ordinary milk run, nothing to get nerved over, but that didn’t stop him from launching his breakfast over the side of the airship. He always did. In the superstitious part of his mind, that meant he would be coming back from this one. In the part of his mind that hated vomiting, it meant that if he had to do this job much longer, he would put in for a desk job rather than losing a good portion of his nutrients to the birds and wind.
Their last mission had not been so easy. Some Antag called The Rushing Wind had leveled most of a forest in Russia before they’d contained him. Fortunately, it was in an area where no one had lived for hundreds of years.
He wiped his mouth with a fresh handkerchief and went to freshen up.  As he washed his hands he thought about retirement. It was looming closer every day and it frightened him. What would he do with his time? Could he ever truly be a civilian again after twenty years of service?
He stepped into the Ready Room. Cappy was sitting at her desk studying a picture of a man wearing an ornate mask. She did not seem to notice that Creech had entered the room. Creech found some work for himself over at his desk. He made a show of being noisy to try to get Cap’s attention.
Cappy had been unusually silent before missions lately, and that was not okay. Usually, she had a word of encouragement for the soldiers under her command. Every mission had a new speech, even the possibly boring ones, especially the possibly boring ones. Because when you were working Delta Squad it meant a level of prestige that most soldiers had never thought they could aspire themselves to. The men needed a lighthouse to guide them. But she was lost in thought. She seemed to be happy to emulate the rocks that would wreck their little dinghy of a unit if she did not do some goddamn shining with her words.
Creech cleared his throat. Cappy looked at him as if she were expecting to find something there on his face. Not finding anything, she looked down.
“Something on your mind, Creech?”
“I was just wondering if you had something to say to the crew. I know I always liked to hear a few words from my superior officer before mission go. It always got me ready.”
“Would that be before or after you’d lost your breakfast?”
Creech gaped for a moment as if to ask ‘how could you say such a thing?’, before bursting into a laughing fit. Cappy joined him. They had been through the war together. There was no topic off limits for jokes to either of them, which suited Creech just fine. Having had a stale humorless commander through most of his earlier career had made him leery of anyone who did not laugh, appropriate or not.
“Usually right after. There’s nothing like inspirational words to nourish a body.”
“Sure, sure, I’ve got that. Tell me something, Creech, have you dealt with this Ayres character before? The name sounds so familiar, but I just can’t place him. Also the dossier has no picture of his face. There’s just that stupid mask.”
“That mask probably cost him a cool two thousand. Look at all of those delicate features. That set him back some.”
“I don’t care if it is made of imported ground saber horn, it’s horrible and stupid. It’s not just the mask that bothers me. He’s wearing a mask, fine. Why is he still going by his real name? What is he hiding?”
“Maybe he was injured in the war. There’s no way to know at this point. He’s an Antag, he goes where power can be obtained. That’s all we need to know. If Radcliffe does his job, all we have to do is walk in, slap cuffs on Ayres, and get everyone back to civilization. It doesn’t have to be difficult.”
“You know better than that. Any number of things can go wrong in there. I don’t risk my people on maybe. Not now, not ever.”
“Relax. Radcliffe is a professional. I know that he’s done over twenty of these things.”
“You’re right, Creech. It’s just that Antag’s name. I just wish I could place it. It’s like I know it, in the edge of my brain, but it’s so slippery. I can’t pick it up and look at it.”
“You’ll get it, Cap. In the meantime, let’s go give those guys something to think about.”
Cappy nodded. She appreciated that Creech thought her pep talks were necessary, but lately she saw little point to them. Creech thought every mission was different. That may have been true just after The Competition had started, but more often than not, it seemed that they only got to do cleanup now. Some of the newspapers had taken to calling them the Denouement Squad. Fortunately, most people did not get the joke.
‘Let them laugh,’ she thought, ‘I’m just a few years away from early retirement. Maybe then I’ll get into the adventuring business myself. I didn’t make Captain at 26 on my looks.’
“Okay. I’m ready. Let’s get on the bird.”
Creech saluted. Cap didn’t like when he did that, but he was an old soldier. It would take a long time before he could break himself of it.
They walked from the ready room out onto the deck of the airship where the rest of the squad was waiting for them in formation. Cappy thought about it for a few seconds and then just launched into it.
“Attention! We are about to debark for the mission site. I need all of you to keep your collective head on a swivel. I know this job sounds like low hanging fruit. Hell, it has been for a while, but we are Delta Squad, dammit! We’re the people that can handle whatever is thrown at us! It’s up to every one of you to make sure this is another success in our folder. You are responsible for that. Let’s make it another win for Delta, people! Load up and let’s move!”
As one, Delta Squad grunted and made a beeline for the whirlybird. Cappy felt good about that one. Motivating the men seemed to be giving her a lift. She put Ayres out of her mind then and stepped into the command chair of the aircraft.
They were able to touch down a little under a hundred feet from the entrance to Marcurio’s cave. Creech thanked the twin gods of intel and logistics. He hurried the troops out of the chopper and made them check their equipment again. There was no excuse, in Creech’s mind, for mission failure due to controllable factors. Once the squad had checked everything, they lined up in marching formation.
“They look good, Cap. We’re ready to move out.”
“Good work, Creech. Let’s go earn our money.”
Delta moved through the snow quickly. Within moments they gained the entrance. Once they were in, Creech took a few moments to examine the first lock. He didn’t understand it. He recognized the odd letter here or there, but the rest were just symbols carved in to stone. The squad moved on without comment.
The next room was a dump. Shards of broken pottery were everywhere. In the center of the room an urn rested on a small pedestal. Creech walked over to it and lifted the urn slightly. Both doors leading out of the room started to close. He placed it back on the pedestal and  the doors opened once more.
“Clever.”
“Leave the trap investigation for now, Creech. I just want to get this done. You’ll have plenty of time for your hobby after that.”
“Sorry, Cap, I let my curiosity get the better of me.”
“Just stay on your toes, we don’t have time to scrape you off the ceiling.”
 Creech nodded and went to the next door. What he saw there made him gasp. The beauty of the carvings and brass were a stark contrast to the broken man half in the door. Hardigan was trying to pull himself through the third entrance with his arms. Blood was dribbling from his mouth. His legs were trailing behind him pathetically. An expression of excruciating pain wracked his face.
“Balmforth! Austen! Front and center! Get this man stabilized.”
Two soldiers stepped forward and started to assemble a stretcher. Within a minute, they had Hardigan’s neck in a brace and jammed a spike of morphine in his neck. Hardigan faded quickly into unconsciousness.
Balmforth did not like his patient’s chances for ever walking again. It was likely the man’s back was broken. There was no way to tell until they’d gotten him into the airship’s sick bay.
“Do we have an ID on this one, Creech?”
Creech pulled the mission dossier from his pack. He flipped through it quickly until he found a picture of the injured man. He skimmed over the information quickly.
“This is Robert Hardigan. He’s a nasty piece of work. Did some time for pederasty back five years ago. He got into doing henchman work right out of prison.”
“Ugh. Huddle up, everybody. We don’t know what happened to this man. Maybe Ayres got tired of this one. Maybe Radcliffe went rogue. What we do know is that this man has been seriously injured. I need you to have your weapons ready. This was not in the lesson plan. Balmforth and Austen get to babysit our friend here. The rest of you need to make me proud again today.”
Creech sneaked a peek into the room. He was not prepared for what he saw there. Ayres was on the ground, no discernible cause. Radcliffe was crouched behind cover holding a phaser and a red blur moved through the room with alarming speed. Suddenly, the blur stopped moving. He saw a boy where the blur stopped. The boy who, looked to be Radcliffe’s sidekick, fell in a heap next to Ayres. Creech signaled all clear and Delta moved into the chamber.

Luminosity

While Ayres and Jeremiah were having Palaver, Radcliffe was struggling and really starting to worry. The machine he’d dragged halfway across the country, their only hope to retrieve victory from that scoundrel Ayres was not responding at all. It was blinking softly in the gloom, but there was no response at all when he depressed the activation switch. He cursed and turned it over so he could see the small access hatch.
There was a tiny inset screw on the back that would allow access to the inner workings. Taking out his pocket tool set, he made short work of the screw and opened the hatch. What he found there made him curse again. In the device that Godfrey had called the Restore Button, was the tracking device that Ayres had told him about. There was a mess of wires connected to it that led into the power source and off to the deceptive lights lining the handle. Other than the wires and tracking device there was an assortment of small lead weights inside the device.
Radcliffe tried to calm himself. There was no use in panic. It never helps. He shook the weights free of the Restore Button and tried to assess the situation. The weights fell in a scatter across the tiles making soft clacking noises as they landed.  Other than the weights, there were several tubes lined up on a small circuit board. Nothing useful there. He turned his attention back to the tracking device. It was a small grey device that thrummed softly in his hand.he turned it over and found a small access hatch like the one on the Restore Button. He used the screwdriver once more and was faced with a small battery and more circuitry. Nothing useful there, at least not seemingly so.
Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the phaser he’d thrown. He reached for it and heard Jeremiah’s voice. The boy sounded strained. He’d had no childhood to speak of. He’d never known his father. Radcliffe vowed to make these things up to the young man. That would have to wait until after he’d pulled their skins from the fire.
He pulled the gun towards himself and examined it closely. Another hatch faced him. Hatches upon hatches upon hatches. Radcliffe sighed and was thankful that this was just a sliding door that opened to the battery and internals. The battery matched the one he had just pulled from the tracking unit. Radcliffe thanked his luck and detached it from the weapon. Then he picked up the Restore Button and placed the depleted battery under it. Then he took the battery from the homing device. Hopefully its trip across the world from Monmouth had not been too taxing.
Radcliffe jammed the battery into the energy weapon and waited for it to acknowledge the power it now had. It hummed a happy little boot up tune and went through the safety checks to make sure it was ready for use. Within thirty seconds the weapon was ready and the green power light blinked steadily. Things were now looking up for them both. Radcliffe stole a peek over his cover and saw Jeremiah sitting palaver with Ayres.
Curious, he crawled over to listen to them. He tried to make sure to stay out of Hardigan’s line of vision. Did Jeremiah just call Ayres ‘father’? What had they been talking about while he’d been occupied? Radcliffe couldn’t see Jeremiah’s face, but the young man tensed considerably when Ayres casually mentioned hunting down the boy’s father and killing him.
Radcliffe remembered that there had been a lot of bad blood passed between Ayres and the elder Rickets. All of it had to do with the war, more specifically the things that the Grokols had made them do. People everywhere wished that the Grokols had never discovered this planet. The superior advancement of technology was a consolation prize at best. What good was a time machine if the people who used it were possibly broken? What good was a phaser if you had no hope?
Radcliffe shrugged off this bit of reverie. Where would that line of thinking get him right now? He tried to regain focus. This was not about the war or fathers. It was the fate of the world. The game would never be over while Radcliffe still lived and had the strength to fight evil.
Palaver ended, Ayres looked down at Jeremiah and laughed. He turned toward the mirror. It was time to spring into action. He looked down to make sure the safety was not engaged. It was, so he slid the switch over to live fire and leveled his aim at the henchman. He was ready to make his big move.  All he had to do was fire a warning shot to get their attention. It was then that Radcliffe heard a scream, but it was unlike anything he’d ever heard before. It was primal and guttural, a terrible ululation that echoed through the cavern and left Radcliffe frozen.
Jeremiah felt as if his heart was going to explode. His throat was raw. He did not recognize that he had just screamed. He only saw the man who had pretended to be his father stand up and dust himself off as casually as someone who had just been sitting cross legged possibly could.
His heart was thumping hard against his rib cage. His blood was rushing through his ears. He felt hot. Somehow he was standing. He felt the rage return to him now. It started small in the pit of his belly then spread up into his torso and out through his limbs. It felt like he was an overly ripe melon left to rot in the sun and at any moment, he would explode if he did not use this energy inside of him. Somewhere he heard a gasp. It did not matter. Jeremiah moved. He had of course moved before in his young life, but now he felt as if he had become motion.
He willed himself at Ayres, and there he was, faster than he’d ever imagined. Ayres had a split second to register Jeremiah was now standing so close to him that he could smell his breath. It was rife with beef jerky.
Jeremiah’s fist met Ayres’ cheek with power and speed. Pain flared throughout his face. Consciousness flitted out like a rolling brown out. Somehow he was able to stay awake, but he was not counting it in his favor at that moment.
Hardigan saw Jeremiah stand and it frightened him. With the skills he had learned in his soldiering days the gun was in his hand and he’d squeezed the trigger, aiming for the young man’s leg. Within the space of that time, Jeremiah had gone. The bullet struck home into the ground. Hardigan looked around wildly trying to find his target again. All he saw was a red blur almost hovering in front of the boss. Hardigan turned the gun to the blur and worried he might hit the wrong person.
Jeremiah heard a faint popping sound coming from his left. He turned his head and saw that Hardigan had pulled his gun and had aimed it where Jeremiah had been standing a second and a half ago. He’d already released one shot. It travelled in a tight spiral into the empty space. Jeremiah marveled at how slow it seemed to him. He held Ayres still and smacked his face twice. He wanted him to feel every second of this. The bullet crashed into the ground, cracking the stone down there. Jeremiah punched him in the gut.
Ayres heard throaty roars each time the open hand struck his face. It was like a whip smacking him. The next thing he knew there was a force pushing into his stomach and all of the air in his lungs exploded from him at once. He felt his legs go out from under him. Gravity claimed him, and seconds later, as his head struck the ground, he lost consciousness.
Jeremiah turned to Hardigan. He became motion again. In the instant it took to cross the distance between them, Hardigan’s finger tightened on the trigger.  The bullet exploded out of the gun barrel. Jeremiah watched it come towards him and then gently sidestepped it. He was on Hardigan a second later, grabbing the still how barrel and plucking it from the henchman. The flesh of his fingers was so hot that it barely registered the change in temperature. He threw it across the room. It landed with a clatter in  between Hades’ feet.
Before Hardigan had a chance to gulp, Jeremiah was on him. The blow to the stomach had worked so well with Ayres, that he decided to let Hardigan have one. Punching was something new to Jeremiah. Radcliffe had usually handled the fisticuffs unless there was more than he could handle himself. Jeremiah was accustomed to watching from the sidelines. This was more work than he had thought it would be.
 Jeremiah grabbed the henchman by the collar and shook him. Hardigan’s breath was whooshing out. Jeremiah felt disgust at the sight of this man and decided to fling him across the room. He didn’t know if it was possible for him, but he was going to try. He  got the man swinging and, within seconds, Hardigan was flying across the room.
Radcliffe ducked as Hardigan flew past him. The phaser dropped from his fingers and discharged into the doorway. His mouth hung open in shock. His sidekick had just subdued his most dangerous villain.
Hardigan landed with a wet smack against the carved rock doorjamb. When he hit he could feel several bones snap against the stone surface. He was sure that he would die. There was no medical help for miles. His world was now a bleary jarred jumble of lights. He prayed for a miracle and tried to move his foot. It remained motionless. Hardigan wailed and hoped for a quick death.

Palaver

Jeremiah looked at Ayres and thought he would vomit. The man who had chased Radcliffe and himself from one side of the world to the other was claiming to be his father. It was a lot to bear. What if this man, this personification of all the things that Radcliffe had taught him to abhor was telling the truth? Would he have to give up his role as an adventurer’s aide? Could he persuade Ayres to turn over a new leaf?
“Jeremiah, come give your father a hug. It has been so long.”
“Ayres, what are you trying to pull? If I come over there I go from being a hostage to what? A henchman? A corpse?”
“Jeremiah, you injure me. You think that I would cause harm to my own son? I am not a monster. I am merely a man who wants to reunite with you.”
Jeremiah found himself somewhat moved by Ayres’ plea, but remained unconvinced. There was something about Ayres that put him ill at ease, aside from the ghastly mask he always wore, his whim-some murderousness, and his rumored casual sodomy. No, Ayres had a reputation as a cheat, a liar, a charlatan. If you were dealing with him, the only thing you could be sure of was that he would step over you to get to his goal. If you were his goal, you were in danger.
“Ayres, you are a man who would strangle a babe in its mothers arms for the privilege of bragging about the deed. Do you really think that I would just believe you without any sort of proof? Your pleas of injury and harm only cement the big bad wolf you strut the world as.”
“I see that you have inherited my innate sense of logic. What a chase you’re leading, Jeremiah! Fine. Let us palaver together in the old way. Have a seat, my young man.”
With this, Ayres swept past Jeremiah into the wider area. He sat cross legged on the ground and bid Jeremiah to sit across from him. Ayres swept his vision across the room and found Radcliffe crawling towards his dropped device.
‘What a foolish man I have chosen as an adversary,’ Ayres thought, ‘an overgrown fraternity boy and a whelp with too much cynicism for his own good. What good will the the machine do him now? Even if it worked it would not help him put this cat back into its skin. I have won. The only thing left is to use the mirror. Corrupting the sidekick will be an additional knife in Radcliffe’s back.’
Jeremiah hesitated for a moment and stepped over to the place that Ayres designated. He sat cross legged to ape the position Ayres had assumed. The palaver protocols were clear.  Anyone may call for a palaver to resolve a finer point of the goals. During such time the game would be suspended, even if the authorities of the game or their duly appointed representatives arrived. Palaver took priority. No weapons were allowed during such a session so Ayres gave Hardigan a look. The henchman lowered the gun slowly and switched on the safety before placing it in his pocket.
“Palaver, my son. We must palaver together and resolve our dilemma.”
“Me being your son is the dilemma. I do not believe you. You have put forth no proof to your claim. I see no reason to believe you.”
Ayres twirled his fingers at this as if they had been through this many times before. Jeremiah felt his breath stop then gather once again. The villain was trying to put him ill at ease in order to push him into a state of agitation. His leg throbbed as in response to his mental state. He could feel whatever had splashed into his wounds begin coursing through his body. There was nothing he could do about that right now. Palaver took precedence.
“You are my son. I will do my best to prove that to you. I give you my token to show my earnestness in this endeavor.”
At this Ayres took his insignia from his great cloak and offered it to Jeremiah. The young man held out his hand and Ayres let it drop into Jeremiah’s hand. It fell with a dull thud and the exposed metal still felt like the chill of the winter wind still raging outside the cave.
“Radcliffe is still trying to activate the device isn’t he?”
Jeremiah just stared at Ayres blankly.
“Really, Jeremiah, it isn’t difficult to work out. I’m afraid he won’t be successful. It is the only reason I haven’t sent Hardigan after him. The key elements that make it work are back at Monmouth. What he’s trying to make work is a mostly empty husk with my tracking device installed within.”
“Do you ever play fairly? I know that it is your job as a villain to make things difficult for us, but why do you play so far outside of the rules?”
“To me, the rules are a suggestion. I always follow the rough outline, but the fine lines are blurry. I don’t care about them, so they mean that much less to me. It is not a fair life that we were born into, Jeremiah. You would do well to remember that.”
“I know that life is not fair, but this. This was set up to be as fair as possible to all parties. Why have rules? Why have anything but chaos if they aren’t followed?”
“Don’t you see? I play the part of chaos. I am the ruiner of lives. It is the part I play. Your part, like it or not, is to keep Radcliffe from becoming me. You serve as reminder to him that innocence is always in peril and it is his job, no, his duty to protect that. You are his balance, and in turn, I serve as the balance to you both. I have to be ruthless because it is the role I play. The power I gain supplements me. It is the only way that this truly works.”
“Couldn’t you rise above this farce and become better than a villain? If I am your son, as you say, then you must not be completely evil. I am not evil, so this must be a choice that you made at some point in your life. Even the Red Mist remade himself into a hero.  Surely there must be some good in you.”
“I would be lying if I said that I had not considered this. I have had with me a hero’s heart for quite some time. I just don’t know how to make the transition. It’s not an easy road, Jeremiah.  For one such as myself, even the slightest misstep on the path to good can lead to expulsion from the Competition. I have no other career options. This is my life.”
Jeremiah thought about this for a minute. He opened his mouth as if to respond, but Ayres held up his hand. Jeremiah closed his mouth.
“There is not one thing that makes me who I am. I am a product of my experiences. But, if I could go back to the one moment that drove me down this path, I would choose my participation in the war. I did things there, I was made to do things there, that no one should ever have to do. We lost an entire generation of men and women in the war against the Grokols.”
“That may be so, but there are plenty of people who fought in that war that took it to heart. They aren’t villains. Radcliffe was in the war.  The fact that there is a possibility to go back in time to fix things makes your argument invalid. There is no reason, save for the game, that explains the fate that you’ve chosen for yourself.”
“That is not actually possible. When the war looked like it would be won by the Grokols for certain they erected a time barrier around those key months when they put so many of us against each other. I would have already made that change if it were possible. You speak with intelligence beyond your years, but there is more to the situation than is readily visible to you. The aliens had machines that patterned human minds to their will. Our scientists worked hard to remove those patterns, but there was only so much they could do. Some base urges remain.”
“You have said a lot. I’m sorry that happened to you. Have you thought about trying other means?”
“You mean magic.”
“Yes. I guess I do. It sounds a little silly to say it out loud, but magic.”
“Please. Don’t you think I’ve tried that? What do you think I hope to accomplish trying to win artifacts?  Your naivete is only so charming before it becomes tiresome.”
“Okay, I hadn’t thought of that. It makes sense, but we’re back where we started. I don’t know that you’re my father. You’ve just talked about why you’re this way, leaving out the reason for this palaver.”
Ayres nodded. Then he reached into his shirt and pulled out a necklace with a small medallion hanging from it. He held it out as if this were the only answer that mattered. Jeremiah held his hand out for the bauble and Ayres dropped it. Jeremiah then noticed that it was a locket. He opened it with shaking fingers to reveal two photographs within. One of his mother and one of him as a small child. He had carried his mother’s picture for all of these years. Jeremiah choked back a sob of surprise and looked over at the other man.
“You. You weren’t lying. You are my father. “
“Yes. Now you see why I need to obtain control of this mirror. I can cure myself, son. I can be the man I used to be. Do you understand?”
“Y-yes. I do. I’m sorry I doubted you, father. Please use the mirror. I won’t try to stop you.”
Ayres stood and walked over to the pew where he had laid the object. He looked back to Jeremiah as if in hesitation. Then he whispered something to Hardigan. The henchman smiled and pulled the gun from his jacket.
“Thank you for helping me win the competition, Jeremiah. I mean, I’d already won, but corrupting you was just so delicious. It also gave me so many points. There are two things I should tell you, though. One, the Grokols patterns could only work with things that are already there. Two, of course I’m not your father. I stole this from him after I thought I’d killed him. I will, of course, find and kill him as soon as I leave here. Quite helpful to discover that he’s still alive out there somewhere. As he takes his last breath I’ll be sure to let him know that it was your fault.”

Sex? I suppose that's a thing.

    I am about to make an embarrassing confession that is painful and very personal. I'm not sure why I'm doing this on my very public blog with I'm sure tens of eyes staring balefully at my words, but this project requires that I write every day, being a diary and all, so here goes. A personal confession to the world.
    I have not had sex in ten years. Not sure exactly how that happens to a person who's not asexual and not me, but most of it is due to being painfully shy.
   I'm sure those of you who read my first post are wondering how I've not done the deed in so long if I had a girlfriend less than two years ago. She was saving herself for marriage. I thought she was saving herself for me. Sadly, that is not the case.
   I'm not sure I am still capable of sex. I mean I know the basic mechanics, but my first thoughts are always fear. What if I'm bad in bed? What if I never get another chance? What if I have no capacity to love left inside me? I'm torn to pieces with anxiety over this subject and my first reaction is usually to change the subject if it comes up. Flirting is very uncomfortable for me.
  I'm sure there are questions. I will try to anticipate a couple of them.
  Why haven't you tried a singles bar or other such similar place where people go for that sort of thing? Did I mention that I'm very shy? Especially when it comes to women.
  Did you know that there are women that you can pay to be nice to your penis? Yes, but I'm afraid of getting arrested for trying.
Don't you feel that biological drive to procreate? To sow your seed and reap children? Sure. It comes and goes, but I am not all that fired up to be a father. I can barely take care of myself sometimes.
If you have a question I haven't covered here, go ahead and post it in the comments. I will answer any reasonable question asked in honest curiosity.

The End of Days?

    Hardigan was looking at his boss with unbounded admiration. There was just something about the man that made him proud to serve. Maybe it was the mask that had inspired so mush fear and loyalty. Hardigan didn’t know, really, but he would follow where ever Ayres led, even at the cost of his own life. The other henchman had already met that fate, though. Hardigan vowed within himself to make sure that he would not meet the same end.
    Jeremiah looked at Radcliffe at that moment, stunned at what he had just heard. Then he started thinking about what the artifact could do. Then he started getting angry at Radcliffe for not sharing all the necessary information with him. This was about the limit of things he could take today. Rivulets of blood were streaming down his good trousers, some unknown potion was infecting him, and now all hope was lost for the world as this mad man would destroy and enslave all of humanity. He felt sick.
    Jeremiah took this moment to sit and try to pick the pieces of glass out of himself. That, he thought would at least be something to do while waiting for Ayres to figure out how to end them. Also, in the short term it might make him feel better. He pulled his pocket inside out and noticed a label stuck to his finger as he did so. The label read  ‘ταχύτητα’. More Greek. Jeremiah had a feeling that everything in this place had a Greek label or tradition attached to it.
    Hardigan noticed Jeremiah at this point and uttered a harsh bark. Jeremiah’s annoyance at the henchman showed in the sneer that painted his face.
    “What are you doing there, pretty boy,” Hardigan asked.
    Jeremiah winced and felt revulsion creep through him at the idea of being called pretty by this man.
    “I’m trying to render myself some rudimentary first aid. I had something glass in my pocket when I fell. If you don’t mind, I’ll be down here trying not to die of blood loss,” Jeremiah said.
    “You’re hurt? Here, take this,” Hardigan offered, “Rules are rules, and they always apply, even if we win.”
    Hardigan tossed Jeremiah a first aid kit that contained many devices that weren’t from the current time period. He only recognized a few things that would help in his current predicament. One of them was a pair of tweezers. The others were a bottle of iodine and gauze.
    “That’s easy for you to say,” Radcliffe moaned, “you cheated to get here. The committee will hear of this.”
    Ayres looked at Radcliffe over his shiny new bauble.
    “The committee will be eradicated. Your grievances will be unheard,” Ayres said, “You are just going to have to deal with that. There are a great many changes coming to this world as soon as I can get the mirror to start working.”
    Radcliffe snorted, “So, after killing one of your own men and wounding my associate, you’re confounded by how the thing actually works? I’m surprised. Usually you’re the first one to have the answer. It’s what has made our working relationship so exciting.”
    Ayres waved off Radcliffe’s remark and slipped the gun to Hardigan. The henchman took it and looked at Jeremiah with something that Jeremiah did not recognize, but made him want to ignore it. Once more, he set to work removing glass from himself. Within moments, most of the pieces now lay on the floor. Now there was the difficult matter of how to remove the  smaller pieces of glass from his body. Jeremiah decided that there was nothing to do but remove his trousers. They were all men there, regardless of how icky the gun wielding thug was making him feel. He noticed that Hardigan was taking a special interest in this disrobing.
    “Mister Radcliffe,” Jeremiah said, “ask him not to look at me like that.”
    “He’s holding a gun, Jeremiah, there’s not much room for bargaining on my end.”
    Jeremiah saw Radcliffe’s point without any further need of discussion. Using the tweezers he was able to get most of the smaller pieces without too much trouble. Then he opened the bottle of iodine.
    “You’d better let me do that for you, Jeremiah.”
    Radcliffe set to work coating the young man’s wounds in iodine. Jeremiah cried out as it worked its way into him, knowing that the sting was meant to protect him from infection, but not quite being able to help it. Radcliffe bandaged him quickly and Jeremiah felt a new throbbing coming from his leg and working its way up into his head then into his ears. His head was splitting from the worst headache he’d ever had in his life.
    Radcliffe was whispering something to him, but he couldn’t make it out over the throbbing in his own ears. Ayres seemed to take no interest in what the two adventurers were doing at the moment as he was trying to decipher a bit of script engraved into the back of the mirror. Jeremiah tried to clear his head. He shook it and now some clarity emerged from the din.
    “What, Mr. Radcliffe? I’m afraid it has been quite difficult to concentrate with all of this construction taking place behind my eyelids.”
    Radcliffe took a deep breath and attempted to remain calm. He took the younger man’s shoulders in his big hands and looked Jeremiah straight in the eye.
    “I don’t have time to explain. Just listen to me.”
    Jeremiah faded for a span of ten-seconds just then. Radcliffe hoped he could wake up the boy long enough to put his plan into action. He spied smelling salts in the first aid kit and opened the bottle under his nose. Jeremiah coughed as his eyelids shot up and blinked a message of wakefulness.
    “Jeremiah, we’re in a tight spot,” Radcliffe continued, “when I give the word, I want you to provide a distraction. I’ll use the device Dr. Godfrey gave me to get the drop on them.”
    Jeremiah seethed with anger. Just like Mr. Radcliffe to put him in danger while he ran off to play the hero. He attempted to make a step sideways and was greeted with a sharp pain in his leg. There was definitely a grinding feel coming from within there. Jeremiah wondered if would ever walk without a limp again. From behind him he felt a small push from Radcliffe.
    “Go,” Radcliffe urged. Something sounded slowed about Radcliffe’s speech. Jeremiah looked back and the older man seemed to be reaching for something within his coat, but he was certainly taking his time. It seemed to take him a minute to move his hand. Radcliffe must have been very nervous about the act he was about to commit himself to.
    Jeremiah, wincing in pain with every step, walked forward toward Ayres and the henchman with no plan in mind. All that he had going for him was rage and pain that felt like a tangible part of himself.  It was nebulous and contained within the pit of his stomach, but it felt more real than anything he had ever felt in his life. His very short life, if he could think of nothing more threatening than limping toward two men who meant to do him and the world very much harm indeed, if left unchecked.
    Hardigan waved the gun shakily at Jeremiah. The slow movements of the weapon were almost mesmerizing and Jeremiah stopped for a moment where he stood. He gathered himself and took a long deep breath. This would have to do for now. One way or another he would provide this distraction.
    “Not another step if you please. I wouldn’t want to use this on a fine young man such as yourself. I can’t believe your father can’t think of better uses for his career than putting you in certain danger all of the time.”
    “Oh, he’s not my Father. He has just been looking after me for most of my life.”
    Ayres’ ears perked up a little. This was something he could exploit to his advantage. Perhaps the boy had some inside knowledge that would make deciphering the script on the mirror easier.
    “Ah, no Father? What a shame that is. Still, a boy does need a strong male influence in his life or he’ll never amount to anything. I say if a boy does not have that then he might as well be a girl. Forgive me. I think my loneliness gets the better of me sometimes.”
    Ayres almost chuckled saying this. It was one thing to lie to get what one wanted, but making up fantasies out of whole cloth amused him. Of course playing with the emotions of people made Ayres’ heart almost warm.
    “Mister Radcliffe is good to me. We were going to go try to find my Father after we finished with this adventure, but that’s looking like it won’t happen now, with you becoming some sort of god and all.”
    “Jeremiah, you wound me,” Ayres said, “What did you think was going to happen after I acquire my power? Did you think I would just destroy you and Reginald? Do you really think I wouldn’t allow you to live your lives and let bygones be?”
    “Frankly, sir,” Jeremiah said, “that’s exactly what I thought. It’s not too easy to go looking to find someone when you’ve been scattered to the winds by someone who’s got it in for you.”
    Ayres slumped his shoulders and breathed a heavy sigh. He turned away from Jeremiah and put the mirror down on the stone pew. Jeremiah looked at the mirror. It was his only chance. If he could get there, he would have a place at the bargaining table. He would be able to make the thug give up the gun. All of this took place in his mind before Ayres had lost contact with the mirror.
    Ayres turned back to Jeremiah and spoke the words that stopped him before he could dream up a way to disarm the henchman.
    “Jeremiah,” Ayres said, “I can’t believe Radcliffe never told you this. I am your father.”

An Aged Artifact

    The bullet that whizzed past Radcliffe struck home in the quartz eye of Dionysus and glittering fragments fell onto the floor. Radcliffe put his hands above his head and Ayres motioned to one of his henchmen to cover the adventurer.
    Ayres struck an intimidating figure. He wore a black great cloak and false face carved with images of death. It was said that he showed no pity to man nor beast and that he had strangled his own mother with his umbilical cord. These were just rumors, of course, but looking at the man in the flesh made one reconsider that.
“How did you catch up to us so quickly, Ayres? I thought for sure sending that old prospector south to visit his brother would have confounded you completely.”
    Ayres snorted at this, his contempt dripping from the plastistone that made up his false face and pooling on the floor. He lived for moments like this. His rival trounced, down and out and throughly defeated.
    “It was quite simple, really, Radcliffe, you should really look into improving the security around your good friend Doctor Godfrey. It was a trivial matter to bribe his research assistant to slip a tracking device into the invention that the good doctor intended to give you to go on this little ski holiday.”
    Radcliffe reeled at the idea that money had been used by his enemy to foil his plans. He briefly considered devising a system that would replace money with some sort of merit based aristocracy that would make adventurers the highest caste in his new system. He then tossed this plan as it would actually take money to implement and damn him for a fool if he was going to try that sort of thing again.
    “So, all this time you’ve been tracking me using some sort of gadget. That isn’t in the rules, I’m afraid. You’ll have to forfeit the treasure.”
    Jeremiah stifled a gasp. The rules did not mention tracking devices at all. It was an omission that the rules committee would soon have to rectify or else the competition would devolve into chaos.
“Nice try,” Ayres said, ” but I’m afraid that there are at least two things at flaw with that. One, there is no rule against them. In fact, I think the rules committee will find nice gift baskets to discourage them from putting the rule in there in the first place. Two, there is no one here to enforce the rules. No one at all.”
    Jeremiah searched his surroundings for something to help Radcliffe out of his predicament and spotted a stoppered test tube with some sort of liquid inside it on the workbench. A mysterious red glow emanated from it. He slowly crept over and grabbed it. Despite being abandoned for who knows how long, it emitted a strange warmth. Ignoring this, he got into position behind Ayres.
    “Really, Radcliffe,” Ayres said, ”Invoking the rules in your position? You surely didn’t think that would work did you?”
    Radcliffe’s eyes turned down to the floor as if the key to his predicament were there. He shook his head, slowly. Then he began to laugh.
    “I don’t suppose,” Ayres said, “you’d like to share what is so amusing that you can’t help but giggle?”
    “It is just,” Radcliffe said, “that you are so unbelievably stupid that you forgot to account for my sidekick.”
    At that moment Jeremiah eased behind Ayres and shoved the test tube into the back of the older man in the manner of a handgun. Ayres put his hands up and Jeremiah pulled the pistol from his hands. He quickly stowed the test tube in his pocket and replaced it with the handgun that he had just acquired.
    “Ah, Jeremiah,” Ayres said, “I’d wondered where you were. I had half expected to find you standing on that pressure switch waiting for the conquering hero to return. Instead I found someone quite clever had made something to slip past the first trap. So clever, in fact, that I knew it could not have been Reginald’s doing.”
    Radcliffe cringed at the Ayres mentioning his first name. Too much familiarity bred contempt and Ayres seemed to already have it in abundance. He also noticed at this point that he was on the winning side and motioned for the henchman to surrender the sidearm he was only pointing at him in token to the game being played.
    Radcliffe took the weapon and examined it. It was a standard beam weapon, nothing too fancy. Ever since the time travelers had started coming through, these weapons were becoming more and more common among the villains and henchmen of the world. The only trouble was that the more elaborate beam weapons were generally the less reliable ones. This was one of the factors that had led to the Faust Treaty of 1854. History was something that Radcliffe really enjoyed. It was too bad that it was becoming more unbelievable and less relevant year by year.
    Ayres slumped his shoulders with disbelief that he had been foiled so readily, then turned slightly. Jeremiah pushed the gun a little deeper into the man’s back and grunted his negative feeling to Ayres to try to get him to behave. Doing this put Jeremiah at a slight disadvantage as his weight was not distributed very well. Ayres took this opportunity to knock Jeremiah prone.
    Jeremiah fell. He fell hard. The test tube shattered in his pocket letting all the liquid run out into his pants and into the cuts the pieces of glass had dug into his leg. Jeremiah spasmed in pain. In doing so the gun fell from his limp fingers and clattered to the floor. Jeremiah cringed waiting for the pistol to report a fired shot, but nothing happened.
    Seeing what happened to Jeremiah, Radcliffe tried firing the beam weapon he had coerced from the henchman moments before, but nothing happened. The batteries were flat and it was as useful to him at that moment as a paper weight would have been. Slightly less useful, in fact, because a paper weight had real heft and he could have threatened the thug with it. As it was, the weapon he now held was a light weight novelty that could offer him no help at all.
    Ayres plucked his pistol from the floor and laughed in a mocking tone that he had been saving for just this moment.
    “Radcliffe,” Ayres said, “your methods are tired. I was always ten steps ahead. In fact, I could have just killed you and have done with it, but your are far too amusing alive. Now I will have my prize. I believe that you were just about to retrieve Marcurio’s mirror? Well, why don’t you go ahead and do that right now, but don’t get any strange ideas about using it against me. This gun held against your sidekick’s temple is quite real and I am just about at the end of my patience with you.”
    Ayres pulled Jeremiah’s collar and held the cold barrel of the gun against his temple in illustration. The warmth of his own blood and whatever solution was in the test tube served a stark contrast to the cold he felt from the villain. The icy hands that were just behind his back made him shiver more than the wind had. Jeremiah whimpered appropriately in response. This was all in the sidekick’s handbook, of course. The book outlined the rules of capture, ingenious ways to remove oneself from the same, and recipes for hot chocolate. Jeremiah wished that he were back at home enjoying one right at that moment.
    Radcliffe had stalled as much as he had dared. This might end badly, but it could be ten times as bad if Ayres got hold of the mirror especially if he knew the right way to activate it. Radcliffe walked up to the alcove, almost forgotten for the moment was his celebration of discovery. He picked up the mirror very gently and turned in place.
    Ayres looked at Radcliffe and motioned for him to hurry because he did not have all day to dicker around in a dead man’s old deserted fortress in the mountains. Radcliffe walked toward him and the mirror gleamed more than it should have in the torch light. Ayres pulled Jeremiah roughly to his feet and pushed him forward.
    “We make an even exchange. When you hand me the mirror, I will hand you your boy. No one has to die today,” Ayres said.
    Radcliffe nodded in agreement and stretched the mirror toward Ayres. As he was doing so, Ayres pushed Jeremiah in a vector slightly off course from Radcliffe and snatched the mirror into his clutches as if he had been waiting for this moment his entire life. The mirror reacted to his touch and glowed a dark menacing red over the chamber. Ayres’ henchmen were in awe of this spectacle. The one who had been covering Radcliffe started feeling quite ill and vomited loudly onto the dusty floor. The henchman who had stayed at Ayres’ side dropped to his knees and began to prostrate himself to the object. Never before had he felt as if he were in the presence of the divine. He now felt an all too real divinity pass over him and finding him lacking.
    “Boss! It’s reading my soul!”
    “Yes, Mister Hardigan, but it can’t be helped that you’re inferior. That’s just the way the world works. The inferior are always going to be that way. No matter how many fancy hats or suits one owns.”
    The henchman was getting his quite dirty lying on the floor as he was. The vomiting henchman seemed to regain himself and wandered over to where Ayres was standing triumphant holding his prize. Vomit man’s eyes went over all glazed and he rushed Ayres.
    “You must not have that, you monster! The world does not need—“
    The man never made it more than two steps. Ayres fired his pistol and a neat smoking hole appeared in the middle of the nameless henchman’s forehead. Henchman no longer, the man’s light was extinguished and he died in a heap.
    Hardigan looked up at Ayres with cowed and obedient eyes. He was the very definition of sniveling. He dried the tears from his eyes and worked to straighten himself. He dusted himself off and demurred away from the man.
    “What does it do, boss,” asked Hardigan.
    “Hmm? That’s actually a good question,” Ayres said, “I see I didn’t drag two wastes of molecules through this god forsaken wasteland. It is very simple, Mister Hardigan. It makes men into gods.”

Blu Electronic Cigarettes

   A couple of weeks ago I purchased the Blu electronic cigarette to try to curb my smoking and save money. So far my will power has not allowed me to do this. I am a weak weak man.
   I have quit smoking before using nicotine substitution devices such as gums, lozenges, and patches. I think the difference here is that I don't feel there is a significant reason for me to quit smoking.
   My need to live is starting to outweigh my love of smoking. I only wish that Blu came as a pipe. I could really get behind a crazy electronic meerschaum.