It's Just a Little Trip To the Other Side
Chapter 2, Consequences and Awakenings
"It looks like you took some bad hits," said Buckaroo Banzai as he watched Sidney Zwibel give Perfect Tommy the once over. Tommy sat on the hotel room's desk that was being used a makeshift medical examination table while he was sitting on the edge of one of two double beds, directly facing them. The desk, made of cheap laminate creaked when Tommy first sat on it. For a few fleeting moments it lightened the somber mood as they all joked around whether it would hold under Tommy's weight. Sidney was Buckaroo's old friend going back to the days that they attended Columbia Physicians & Surgeons together. Buckaroo was the only one who would still refer to him on occasion by his true name of Sidney or his own nickname of Sid; the other Cavaliers affectionately referred to him with his new moniker of New Jersey.
Earlier a rookie police officer sat on one side of the desk as Tommy and Buckaroo sat on the other. With quiet indifference, the rookie officer dutifully asked each question listed on the incident report form. Through the entire experience, the officer didn't seem fazed at all that the famous Buckaroo Banzai and Perfect Tommy sat before him. As the officer was writing, Buckaroo's eyes strayed to the previous day's newspaper. The main headline screamed "Crime Wave Continues" while the opening statement was a bolded "For the fourth straight year…" Buckaroo finished skimming the article and returned his attention back to the rookie. He examined him more carefully and it was now plainly obvious that he was just going through the motions of recording Tommy's run-in. Buckaroo found it disconcerting. The rookie was just that, a rookie. He was too young to start experiencing that sensation of overwhelming hopelessness that some men feel when they've been fighting for a cause for too long with no results. When Buckaroo asked the victim's standard question of how long it would take before the investigation would start, he and Tommy received the standard response that even though there were a large number of case loads, a detective would be assigned as soon as possible. As the rookie officer left the room neither one had to comment on his answer. Both knew that the report would be buried in an inbox, most likely never seeing the light of day ever again.
New Jersey looked frustrated. Even though all of the lights were turned on in the room, it was still not as bright as he would have preferred. Meanwhile Reno Nevada sat on the edge of the other double bed, trying not to knock off the contents of the desk which were scattered all over it. He had moved one of the small end tables and upon it; he was slowly and methodically taking apart Tommy's Bursa Thunder. It was the least that he could do to help. On any other day Tommy would have yelled at him for even looking at it crossways. Instead the biggest reaction Reno got out of him was a quiet "Just be careful with it."
"Ow." Tommy first recoiled and then grimaced in pain.
New Jersey paused before he resumed pressing as gently as he could around Tommy's lower back. "You should consider yourself lucky that you're not urinating blood… at least not yet. We'll need to keep an eye on that. You also have a fair amount of tenderness around your right kidney, much more so than on your left side." His tone was professional, borne out of years of habit and new found confidence.
Tommy sighed. Once again his plans were going awry. When he got back to the hotel all he wanted to do was to down whatever painkillers he could find and sleep for a few hours. He knew he would have to fess up eventually about the fight but didn't expect to have to do it as soon as he entered the room. It was just his luck that Reno was having a sleepless night. When he first entered the room, Reno didn't look up from his draft on the impact of neurological and mechanical network fusion on the subconscious mind. "You're home early," was the half-mumbled greeting he received. It was after Reno looked up from his scribbling that all hell broke loose.
He reached up to scratch the back of his neck. "Jersey, the back of my neck won't stop itching."
"Hmmm…" New Jersey muttered as he continued to focus his attention on Tommy's left hand. "Did you change fabric softener lately?"
Reno snickered as Tommy gave New Jersey a priceless look of confusion. "What?"
"Anytime I change fabric softener to anything else besides Downy my skin becomes irritated."
Reno could not help himself and ignoring the seriousness of the situation, snickered. "Tommy uses Snuggles."
Tommy's glare in response made Reno chuckle even more. For a brief moment, things were back to normal. "He's got a thing for soft cuddly teddy bears," he added.
Without being asked, Buckaroo rose and handed New Jersey a flashlight. He then looked over to Reno and strongly suggested, "Reno, why don't you go out and get some ice. The machine's down the hall if you haven't noticed it already. We both know that Tommy's going to need some."
A look of disappoint slowly crossed over Reno's face as he understood the not so subtle sign from Buckaroo that he was to stop chiding Tommy. Then the look of disappoint disappeared. Something, call it a hunch, told him that when New Jersey was finished with Tommy, Buckaroo wanted to be alone with him. Reno reached back over the double bed, grabbed the ice bucket, and then quietly pulled the door shut as he left the room.
Buckaroo and New Jersey closely examined Tommy's neck. Some very small pink bumps were scattered about the nape of his neck. Other than that, nothing else appeared to be abnormal.
"It's not too irritated," answered Buckaroo. "It could be caused by any number of things, all probably minor though."
New Jersey nodded in agreement. "I'm pretty sure I have some cortisone cream I can give you to try." He handed the flashlight back to Buckaroo and resumed examining Tommy's hand. "I'll look in my bag after I'm done."
The minutes passed in almost near silence. Buckaroo walked over to the window. As he watched the city slowly wake up, he would hear Tommy occasionally stifle a moan or New Jersey go "hmmm". He thought back to the conversation earlier that morning with the rookie police officer and then Tommy's reflective thoughts.
"I can't believe he just sat there like that! Aren't you going to call his sergeant?"
To which he did. The sergeant sounded very tired and very overworked over the phone. And while he was polite he made it clearly evident that it did not matter who was on the other line. All cases were important, but there was only so much manpower to go around.
"I don't believe that anything is broken, just bruised," New Jersey finally announced. It was more of a confirmation to Buckaroo than to Tommy.
Buckaroo stood still for a moment, watching a few cars go down the street below the hotel room. Houston was the fourth largest city in the United States. It had the same issues of any large city, such as homelessness, poverty, and crime. Before, it was multiplied two or three fold just due to its sheer size when compared to any other city. When the refugees from New Orleans came in, the problems multiplied ten fold. It had been four years but the repercussions were still being felt. But… And it was a big "But". As logical as that explanation seemed to be for the rise in random acts of violence, the feeling that it wasn't the right explanation gnawed at him. Pushing those thoughts aside, he decided that finding the thugs who had attacked Tommy would be difficult at best. The only calling card they left was the Tetsubo stick. With the wide-spread use of the Internet, they were readily available and popular with both collectors and would-be weekend warriors. He looked over at New Jersey, who was patiently waiting for some sort of acknowledgement from him. And then he looked at Tommy, who was sitting still, head bent down, watching, as he slowly flexed his left hand.
"That's good Sid, I'll take it from here," Buckaroo replied. "Why don't you go back to bed and try to get a little rest? I'll finish taking care of Tommy."
New Jersey nodded and went to look in his bag for the cortisone cream. Rawhide had found the old black doctor's bag in a barn, shined it up with some saddle soap, and gave it to him as sort of a "Welcome Aboard" gift. At first he found it quaint, and preferred his wampum belt. But the bag gradually grew on him and he found it especially handy when he wasn't fully attired in his western gear. He also now understood why his grandfather was so fondly attached to his. "Aha!" he said more to himself than to anyone else. He handed the tube to Tommy. "This is prescription strength so you shouldn't need to use it often. If you feel like you need to use it more than twice a day, or if the rash breaks out further, let me know… Okay? Oh… I almost forgot. Take two of these now for your discomfort."
With his good hand, Tommy took the tube and the two pain pills from New Jersey's outstretched hand. He smiled meekly and quietly replied, "Thanks Jersey."
New Jersey nodded once more in understanding and then asked Buckaroo, "We're still checking out by noon?"
"Yeah," answered Buckaroo. "We have one more gig to do before heading back to the Institute but I wanted to make sure that everyone, at least had the opportunity, to get some sleep first."
At least had the opportunity… Tommy coiled inwardly in disgust. It didn't take an idiot to figure out that those words were directed at him.
New Jersey snapped his doctor's bag shut and without another word left the room. He too sensed that Buckaroo wanted to speak to Tommy in private.
Tommy slowly got down off of the desk and walked over to the window, clutching his side as he did so. "Are you going to proceed to tell me how much of an ignoramus I am?" The sun was now just starting to rise thru the city skyline. He too shared Buckaroo's gut feeling of how difficult it would be to find those thugs. He'd start in Houston's equivalent of Chinatown as soon as he took a quick nap and the pain pills kicked in. Even if he missed the bus he could find a ride.
"No. I figured that you were beat up enough," replied Buckaroo as he crossed his arms and leaned a little against the window.
Tommy lightly snorted at Buckaroo's implied double meaning.
"I've decided that we're not going to stay to actively track your attackers and their accomplice down. I'll have Reno pass the descriptions along to some of the local Blue Blazes and they can continue to monitor the police reports in our absence. If they pick up on any leads we'll take it from there."
Tommy turned away from the brightening skyline and looked at Buckaroo, his face hardening a little. "It finally happened didn't it?" He didn't expect Buckaroo to gloat about his situation, but he was not expecting him to gently let it go either.
Buckaroo's eyes narrowed. Perfect Tommy's late night exploits were legendary and this past evening's outing had been no exception. Once the gig was done and before the equipment had been taken outside to be loaded back on to the bus, Tommy was gone, being last seen arm-in-arm with some groupie who had taken him to a local nightclub. But this time was different. Tommy was out and about, cut off from the rest of the Cavaliers after having deliberately turning off his GPS/BIO tracker. He was totally alone. Had Tommy been obligated to help the woman? Yes. Had he truly been in any shape to do so? No. This time it was just bumps and bruises. What about next time?
"Three attackers, armed, or unarmed, wouldn't have taken you down any other time," Buckaroo coolly answered.
"So I had a few drinks." Tommy thought back to the evening. Okay, it had been a few more than that and maybe some other stuff too. Did it make him a little sluggish? More than likely.
"And then some. You were already behaving irresponsibly and then you added to it by turning off your tracker."
"So what do you want me to do? Have Reno and Jersey babysit and give me a warm bottle of milk before bedtime?" Tommy sarcastically retorted.
Buckaroo sighed. Disagreements over his late night outings had been a source of contention in the past. This morning, was now turning out to be no different.
Seeing Buckaroo's "Here we go again" look made Tommy shook his head, "Look… I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that." There really was no reason to be sarcastic to Buckaroo. He reached to scratch the back of his neck again.
"I've always allowed the Cavaliers to do what they wanted on their own time and they've accepted your behavior as much as you've accepted theirs'. But when you're actions, reputation or not, start to impact their lives, something's gotta be said."
Tommy looked back out the window. He's right you know, his inner voice nagged at him. I know, he's put up with me more than I deserve, now shut up. "You're right that I should've never turned off my tracker."
"When we get back to the Institute I want you to work with Billy and do some data mining on the continuing elevated crime rate of Houston. I don't think that it's just because of the Katrina refugees," Buckaroo said.
Tommy stayed silent for a moment, taken a little aback by the quick change in subject. With a raised eyebrow he asked, "Is that why you're upset more than usual about my little outings?"
"Partly," Buckaroo replied. "More importantly this time it's because you got hurt because of them. You are of a brilliant mind, a great fighter, but most of all a loyal friend. I don't want to lose you because of some stupid actions." He took a step towards Tommy and rested his hand lightly on his shoulder to emphasize his point, "No one deserves a death like that."
"Now I do feel like an idiot," replied Tommy. It wasn't a great line and on the cheesy scale it definitely ranked above a 7.5. But given the shape that he was in, it was the best that he could come up with.
Yes Tommy, I do put up with you more than the rest. A smile started to form at the corners of Buckaroo's mouth, "A perfect one?"
Tommy rolled his eyes, "Of course. Would you expect anything less?"
The woman and the three shadowy thugs who had attacked Perfect Tommy walked down the long rough-hewn corridor leading to the Great Room. What little illumination there was came from the string of electric lights hung from the ceiling at every ten feet or so. Once in awhile one would flicker but then regain the strength to come back on. The only sound was from the woman's heels as they clicked softly against the stone floor. She was still dressed in the outfit she had worn during the attack. She was wearing a crisply ironed, white long French cuffed shirt, and a black skirt that was knee length. If she had been anywhere else, one would have thought she was ready to enter an executive boardroom.
Soon the quartet reached two large heavy wooden doors flanked by two armed guards. As with most of her Overlord's men, they were mercenaries. These two in particular had been former soldiers of the Foreign Legion. Dishonorably discharged, they now offered their services to the highest bidder. Recognizing her upon sight, they quietly stepped aside and let her approach the doors.
With a single wave from her right hand, the surface of the wooden doors shimmered and a small rectangular portal opened right below shoulder height. It was just large enough for her to insert her hand in to. After doing so, six small needles jabbed the palm of her hand. She cursed silently as she flinched from the pin pricks of pain. After all these times, she had not yet gotten used to the security device. Barbaric piece of shit, she thought to herself. Certainly there were easier ways to determine one's identity, both in name and in species.
With a quiet ding, a soft green light from inside of the portal began to glow. A second later the clicking of the internal gears of the doors was audible and the doors began to swing open towards them.
No one was in the Grand Room, not that that was unusual anymore. The room was nearly fully automated. As the doors swung shut behind them, hidden generators started to hum and the banks of electrical equipment filling the room came to life.
The woman stopped and stood still in the middle of the room. The three thugs stopped a good five or six feet behind her. There was no need for them to be near the black obelisk that was now slowly rising out of the center of the floor.
The obelisk slowly began to emit a pulsating energy that was felt, but not seen. The woman raised her hand to her eyes to shield them, knowing what to expect next. The obelisk emitted a pulse of electric white light and then as soon as it appeared it was gone. In its place was a circular disk of shimmering silver liquid hovering in the air.
The surface of shimmering silver liquid stabilized and soon a very blurred image appeared. It looked like to be one of a man with long white hair and an equally long white beard. He may have been wearing dark green robes but again because of the poor quality of the transmission it was difficult to tell.
"Has it been accomplished?" the white haired man asked. Even though the background static was loud and man's voice was very garbled, the woman was still able to make out his question.
"Yes, my liege," the woman responded. She paused to ensure that her response was transmitted before continuing. "The nanobots were applied to the one referred to as Perfect Tommy… The absorption rate appears to be normal for his species, gender, approximate age, and build. We are expecting full implementation within the next twelve hours."
The white haired man shifted slightly. "Excellent, Lucretia."
"You will also be pleased to hear that the X9's performed better than anticipated against the one named Perfect Tommy. Their AI data will be downloaded in to the X10's shortly." Lucretia smiled smugly to herself. She knew that her liege would be pleased at the progress. She knew all along that she could do a better job than her so-called superior officer, the second-in-command of this major operation. She smiled as she recalled looking at his wide-eyed expression of shock as he gripped his throat; trying to hold back the foul bile and blood rising from his stomach.
Through the haze Lucretia saw the nodding of approval from the white haired man. "Report to me again in 16 Earth hours to confirm that the nanobots have begun the tracing and data logging sequences."
"As you command," replied Lucretia.
No sooner had she said the words than the man's image began to fade, the surface of the gray liquid shimmered once more, and then it was gone.
Lucretia turned around to look at the X9's standing behind her at attention. Yes, it's going to be a glorious day indeed.