Hopefully this chapter clears up any confusion as to the previous situation… again, if anyone has any questions, ask away, I'll answer them. Unless I plan on answering them later.

I'm going to see what it's like being Riley for a while. The Blackwells and Ben being momentarily incapacitated and all. I'm not planning on doing very much from Riley's POV, but tell me what you think of it if you review, please. Riley's voice really doesn't fit who he is, I know, so I'm going to have to work on that character. Riley's a lot easier to write about than he is to write from. To me.

Everyone who likes angst, (me included, guilt or not), don't be offended by the first part here! I don't understand why people like it either but it isn't a flame against all you angsty people. It's just Riley being bitter.

And then I get into religion and such… don't be offended by anything, I'm not expressing my personal views in any way here.

The Randomist – I'm very amused that you thought that paragraph was so funny. It didn't really sit well with me at first and I almost deleted it, but I'm glad I didn't!

Thuraya Known – Thanks again for such an awesome review! You notice so much and I really appreciate your feedback! Yes, I suppose what they're doing to Riley is a sort of mind game… I really enjoyed writing that paragraph you mentioned, I'm glad you liked it too!

Oh, and look, I'm labeling my POV's now… woooo…

Disclaimer! They're not mine, der ritt de gitt der gue, bork bork.

Riley

Back in the days of yore when I used to go to high school, I was lucky enough to be in the presence of two or three people who didn't think I was a complete and utter nerd. Well, they did, but they didn't mind. Unfortunately they were all girls, which kind of made me look like a pansy. And I didn't even like pansies. They smelled funny. But these friends of mine – they were Star Wars freaks. Specifically Luke Skywalker freaks. Of all the interesting guys that surround them in reality (like me) they had to have a crush on Luke Skywalker, sterling example of the ideal hero.

Back then I'd heard tell of a magical website called It was a place where everyone who's wildest wishes didn't come true in whatever they were watching or reading could write them down and publish them. I visited the site once or twice, trying to figure out what was so great about the Star Wars 'fan fictions' that my friends kept going on about, and I soon learned that I hated fan fiction. The writers didn't seem to realize that there was a reason certain things don't happen in the movies, and I told my friends that all those writers out there who think their ideas are so great are, in fact, ignoring the sociological perspective granted by taking into consideration why the plot was the way it was, why this character had died or why these characters weren't in love. Possibly one of the most intelligent things I'd ever said.

"Riley, you dumbass," they'd said to me. "They're just being creative." Whatever. As far as I was concerned, sadism wasn't creative, sadism was sadism. I say this because the overwhelming majority of the fics I read had some bloody or violent torture scene, kidnapping plot, angst flying everywhere like black snow. Angst, angst, angst. The Declaration of Independence says that all men have the right to the pursuit of happiness, not the pursuit of angst, and you'd think if it said that, more people would be happy with the relative lack of angst that one finds in any normal book or movie. Or maybe they derive happiness with the pursuit of angst.

I didn't really get it.

I was going to count the number of fictions involving Luke being kidnapped and trucked around the galaxy, or Han Solo being tortured out of his mind. I gave up when I hit sixty-eight, because, well, it was a waste of time.

And the funny thing was, the more angst there was, generally the more reviews there were.

So this wasn't just a bunch of individual diabolical feelings, this was a cult of angsty Star Wars fans. That claimed to love the characters, but took the greatest pleasure in putting their absolute favorite person through pure hell. It would have been a great study in sociology. Unfortunately I dropped that class after the first three weeks because I could never stay awake for the entire two hours. There had been many an after-school-party-in-the-computer-pod, me practicing my developing hacking skills, them reading their fan fictions. I had watched them sometimes, partly to see their reactions, but mostly because one of them was particularly pretty. And time and again a smile would break out onto their face, hand would fly to their mouths, and while they looked delighted they had also looked concerned. A look I'd probably have on my face if I saw a skateboarder take a fall while skidding down a railing and not quite landing on either side in particular. Sad, but very funny.

I'd asked them what they were grinning about. And I didn't understand their answers. I didn't think it was 'fun to read'. I thought it was sad and weird.

Idly, I'd wondered if I would have gotten more attention from them if I'd been kidnapped and tortured. I used to muse about that.

Well, here I was. I was locked in what appeared to be a walk-in freezer. Mind you, it wasn't exactly 'freezing', but it was cold enough. I was shivering. And it was dark. I wouldn't call it 'pitch' black, really, because that implies that there was a substance to the darkness. It was more of a 'vacuum' black. Like in space. Were it not for the floor I sat upon I would have felt like I was floating through cold, empty space. I didn't want to lean against the walls because they were metal, obviously cold. I couldn't hear anything but by own breathing, and my heartbeat. Usually when people say they could hear only the sound of their heartbeat, that's just a way to say how quiet it is. Most people can't actually hear their heartbeat. But I could. I imagine it had something to do with the fact that I had a mild concussion, I had a pretty much continuous headache, and my body was dealing with sumatriptan, faux atomoxitine, and something else I couldn't remember the name of. And my blood pressure and pulse were no doubt through the roof. What were they going to do to me? I didn't know. I had a bad feeling about the way the Chinese man hadn't denied my prediction that I'd be brainwashed. And I really didn't like how that other guy that had appeared out of nowhere had grabbed me so roughly. It hadn't hurt but the shock of being grabbed like that after I'd been treated relatively well…

I began thinking about how my situation would have attracted a lot of fan girls. Except my life wasn't a movie and nobody really knew who I was, except Blackwell, who'd read my book. Would I even want the attention of anyone who thought my current predicament was even slightly entertaining? Heck no. Who would have guessed that all those innocent fan girls out there were actually sadistic monsters. I didn't think anything about this was funny. Or entertaining. It was scary and any fan that thought these things were entertaining was wrong and needed to learn how to step into the victim's shoes.

What was I thinking, of course they didn't think that. Fiction was different than real life, everybody knew that.

I wished I could see something.

I was scared. And cold. Worried about Ben. Did he really think that about me? It wasn't my fault we were like this, it wasn't my fault I had CFS and had gotten my medication from Good Earth. Wasn't my fault I had cluster headaches. The thought that maybe the Chinese man had lied to me to make me sad had passed briefly through my mind, but the Chinese man seemed so… well, nice. And what if he wasn't lying? I had no way of knowing. There would always be that gnawing dread that Ben really was mad at me. It was just easier to believe it. Why? I don't know, I'd dropped psychology too.

Why was I even thinking about fan fictions anyways? I had no fans. None. Ben didn't even care about me. No, no, he cared… I thought. He hadn't wanted to talk to me though. All I had been wishing for was a chance to talk to Ben, hear his voice, know that he was still there and there was someone out there who cared I was in danger. But he didn't want to talk to me.

I slammed my hands down on the hard metal. Ben hadn't said that. The Chinese man had said that Ben had said no… the coldness was slowing my thoughts but I was fairly certain I had that right… the doubt, though, what if… ?

The Chinese Man

Half an hour had gone by. It was time to visit Riley. Though I didn't like the neat little main street with its neat little rows of basswood and crabapples, I'd still rather be under the sky than under the ceiling of a building. Than in a freezer. Sighing, I made my way back through the bright fluorescent lights and past the cashier, who didn't look at me, into the back room, down the stairs, across the hall, into the large, dark room containing the cold prison. My hands found the lump on the wall that would provide my vision for this ordeal. I strapped it on my face, peered around at the now ultraviolet room, and at the black cube of empty space in the corner. I made sure the door was securely shut and locked behind me before taking out the key. I knew it wasn't so but as I approached the darkness I felt as though the air was getting colder and emptier.

I knocked first. I didn't want to startle him.

He might attack me, I thought. If he heard the knock he'd be waiting to lunge at the space where there should be a person standing, once I opened it. There was no sound in response to my knock, so I opened the door, standing aside.

I needn't have bothered. Riley's colorful body was a mass of indiscernible limbs knotted into a ball of blue and yellow and orange – I didn't see any red. From what I could tell he was hunched over his knees, arms around his head. He didn't look up at my entrance.

"Riley, it's me," I said, hoping that was some sort of comfort to him, that it wouldn't make him scared. I wasn't there to frighten him. That wasn't my job. I knelt on the floor next to him, feeling the icy metal underneath my knees starting to chill my skin. Put my hand on his shoulder. He drew back slightly from the touch but it wasn't much of an effort.

"What's wrong?" What WAS wrong? He'd done this in the car, too, rocking back and forth, moaning to himself. He didn't seem like he wanted to speak.

"Come on, get up, Riley, we're going outside for a moment. Outside of this box." I had thought that that would at least earn me a response, but there was none. Hoping he wouldn't finally attack me, I planted my left arm around his shoulders and took his right arm in mine, hoisting him onto his feet. He didn't attack me, but he did pull away once he was standing, instead leaning against the icy wall.

"Riley, did you hear me? Let's leave for a moment. I'll guide you." I took his shoulders again and he let me steer him to the door, stumbling every other step. It seemed to me that he just wanted to sit back down. Once we were out of the black space I led him to the far wall of this basement.

"You can sit now," I murmured, and he did a slow-motion collapse onto the floor, ending in the position I'd found him in when I'd entered the freezer. I decided to wait. If this was what had happened in the car, it would be over soon enough.

Mother of all, I hoped he'd cooperate. Once I explained everything maybe he'd see it our way. Or at least pretend to. That would be good enough for me, as long as he got the job done.

A sound in the corner. Tomas had entered through the back door. He slept back there. The man was like a cave creature, I barely knew what he looked like in the light. It was like he wanted to be as close as possible, in case his services were needed. I cursed the fact that I hadn't hired him personally. Finn, I'd said, go hire me a hit-man, I don't want to be the one to do this job. Ok, boss, I know just the guy. And he did. If Tomas couldn't do this right no one could. Riley was either going to cooperate or die. We were all going to die soon enough, so I suppose it didn't matter.

The man just stood there, staring at us. He was waiting for me to be done. His assumption angered me. No, it was the fact that he obviously just didn't care about Riley that angered me. It angered me that I seemed to care about Riley, but I wasn't going to let that get in the way of my job. I was dazed by Tomas, all he wanted to do was hurt people. What a case. I'd made it quite clear that he wasn't going to put Riley's life in danger, he just needed to complete the minimum requirements of the process. I would have to keep my eye on him, though. He had that crazed glint in his eyes, the few times I ever saw his eyes.

"Not yet, Tomas. I haven't even spoken to him." At my voice, Riley rose his head a bit, trying to stare into the darkness, but of course he couldn't see that Tomas's form hadn't moved. Dare I anger Tomas? Wouldn't he then just take out his anger on Riley later on? I let it go. Riley had pulled himself to the wall and was leaning against it, gazing blankly ahead. I crouched in front of him.

"So, want to tell me what that was?"

"No." I let a moment of silence to grow between us. Let him hear the impracticality of his response.

"Riley, if it's dangerous, let me know. Our aim isn't to kill you." He scoffed.

"Right. You're going to kill everyone else and spare me." Another silence.

"How much do you know?" I asked.

"I know nothing. Leave me alone."

"What just happened?"

"When?"

"Just now. To you."

"I was kidnapped and thrown into a dark, creepy freezer."

"Riley!" I snapped. He drew back a bit. I tried to soften my voice.

"I'm trying to make this easier for you. If you want that, just tell me what's going on."

"There's nothing going on."

"Riley-"

"And even if there were I wouldn't tell you."

"This isn't going as I'd hoped."

"Well I am so sorry."

"I'm giving you an option here. Listen. Forget what's happening to you, I get it, you won't tell me. Fine." I wished he wasn't being so hostile, but had I really expected anything different? Not expected, no, but hoped. Riley was listening.

"You cooperate, nothing happens to you. I really want you to cooperate because I don't want you to be hurt."

"Why?" He asked it so blatantly, so innocently, as if it was a simple question that deserved a simple answer.

"I can't just… Riley, I'm not an evil bastard like you think I am."

"Are you gay?" I closed my eyes, trying to tame my frustration. Well, it wasn't a bad question, really. I suppose he had the right to be worried about that.

"No, Riley, I'm not gay. I am in no way interested in you, except for your exceptional hacking skills. That's all I'm after."

"Surely there's another more worthy than I." Riley-the-smart-ass was making an appearance.

"There's not, believe me. Or at least none that we could find. I'm going to explain our belief system now, and I want you to listen carefully. Think about this, ok?"

"No, I don't want to hear about your belief system. I don't like your belief system, I like my belief system."

"What's your belief system?" I smiled to myself. I had caught him off guard. He wasn't expecting that and how he struggled for words. Hopefully this would make him realize that he didn't, in fact, like his belief system, it was just all he ever had.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean tell me all of your core beliefs. What do you believe in?" He hesitated. I saw the muscles on his forehead knit together, making vague hand gestures in the air, giving up.

"I'm not going to tell you," he decided. What did that mean? He didn't know, or he really didn't want to tell me?

"Ok, Riley, that's fine. Just listen to me, though."

"Fire away, chief. Do your worst."

"I know you love the Earth, Riley. Laudes told us what you said at the rest stop. You seem to be quite fond of this place." No response.

"I wish I knew to what level you loved it though. Our group is dedicated to saving the Earth."

"So what's wrong with joining the Sierra Club or Greenpeace?"

"True environmentalists see the solution to the problem everyone sees but doesn't try to fix. Humans are a cancer to the Earth and they have to be-"

"Annihilated?"

"Well… crudely, yes. The Earth needs to recover from what we've done. If we're granted forgiveness we'll come back someday, hopefully start with a clean slate."

"Come back?"

"Evolution. Another dominant species will take our place."

"Dude, Earth will be gone by then. The sun isn't going to sit there while we re-evolve." At least he was thinking about the possibility.

"There'll be time. You realize that humans only evolved in the past 17 million years, and the Earth is around four and a half billion years old. The sun has another four and a half billion years ahead of it as well, although life on Earth will only be possible for the next 900 million years or so. That leaves plenty of time for a new dominant species."

"Um… you've done your research."

"Yes, I have."

"But what about the dinosaurs? They weren't nearly as… intelligent… as humans. What makes you think another species like humans are going to come along?"

"We can only hope none will. Humans ravaged their home."

"Ok, ok… well… don't you think there's an easier way to go about this? I mean, isn't killing everyone a little unnecessary?"

"It's not the 'easier' way, Riley, it's just the only practical way. Humans are all way too engrained in their cultures for any hope anymore. It would be impossible for every human to suddenly up and start living in such a way that won't affect Earth. Impossible. There's too many of us."

"Well… I mean, killing everyone…" I hadn't expected him to even try to think about our position, so this was good news. He wasn't totally opposed. Or else he was so opposed he couldn't just let the issue sit. "Don't take this as me agreeing or anything, because I don't and I think its complete flummery, but why can't you just tone down the population? Not wipe everyone out? I mean, without humans, you don't get any art or music or anything… that makes us human."

"That's kind of our point."

"No it's not, you're just trying to get rid of the destructiveness. Music and art don't harm anyone."

"Music and art, while they're fine and dandy, don't serve the Earth."

"Well…So? Maybe nature directed our evolution so we could experience music and art."

"Again, that doesn't serve the Earth in any way."

"Why does it have to? Don't you think of the Earth as your mother? Does your relationship with your mother have to be completely reciprocal?" This was getting a bit deeper than I expected, but that was fine with me. I thought about my answer. I couldn't show him I had any doubts about anything or he'd cling to my hesitation.

"You're giving the Earth human characteristics. For a truly balanced and harmonious relationship, that's how our interactions with Earth should have been."

"Can't you give us another chance, though? Like, wipe out all our power sources and electricity? You'd still have your mass genocide, and those resourceful enough to live through it might learn their lesson."

"No, they wouldn't. They're humans. Besides, those that were resourceful enough to live through it would probably be all the greedy, power-hungry ones." He didn't respond. I stared at him in expectation.

"I really hope you aren't staring at me in expectation," he said.

"Why not?"

"Don't think I agree with any of this."

"Why not?"

"Well… because… I just don't! This is so against my ethics."

"Against what you've been raised to think. You can't deny it's a good idea."

"It's a bad idea. Killing everyone is definitely a bad idea."

"Why is it such a bad idea?"

"Because there are good people out there! How would you feel if you killed Gandhi and Martin Luther King?"

"What were they preaching?"

"Peace, man, they wanted world peace!"

"Through religion."

"Whatever, they preached peace! What can possibly be bad about peace?"

"Riley, there is no higher being other than the spirit of the Earth."

"You're saying… you… no, look, I don't care what you think about higher beings, these people wanted peace. They didn't care what religion everyone was, they tried to fix our world through harmonious action and-"

"Hopeless cases. There can be no true harmony if we don't take care of the Earth, and they didn't make the well-being of the Earth their highest priority."

"Would you just step outside your box for a second, please, and realize that what you think is your opinion? There are other people out there that have beliefs just as strong as yours, but you don't see them killing everyone!"

"Killing everyone isn't a light task, Riley, but we just happen to have the means to do it. If you do what we ask."

"Forget it."

"You're asking for hell, Riley." His head leaned back against the wall.

"Dude, I'm not going to help you kill everyone." Resignation, sadness, uncertainty in his voice. I wished he understood. I wished I could just show him the truth, some magical evidence or piece of wisdom that would convince him to help us. I had no such thing. I hadn't told him very much but I'd asked him. I'd gained insight into what his beliefs were and how firm they were. There was nothing else I could do.

"Riley, please."

"No," he said, more of a sob. He knew he was in trouble and it impressed me he was still willing to stand up to what he thought was right. It was admirable and it disturbed me that I'd have to destroy him now.

I looked back up to Tomas, still standing there in his doorway, the Lurker at the Threshold – not as frightening in appearance as a Lovecraftian creation, perhaps, but the implications of his presence in the current situation were just as horrifying, perhaps even more so, than what the writer could ever conjure.

Why had I thought that? It was Riley that was going to suffer now, not me. I was way too attached to him. Why the hell was I so attached to him? I wasn't attached. I just felt evil doing this. It was necessary though.

"Remember my voice, Riley," I said gently, then stood and walked to the exit. He didn't move until he heard Tomas approaching from the other side; he pulled his limbs closer into himself, looked in the direction of Tomas but saw nothing

"Who… What's going on? Chinese guy, where'd you go?" Now the panic was setting in, it appeared. No-one was responding to him and he couldn't hear anything moving anymore because Tomas had marshmallow feet.

"What's going on?" he pleaded again, trying to make himself tiny and maybe slip into a crack in the cement wall. There were no cracks in any of these walls though. Trying to be small, maybe then whoever was coming to get him wouldn't see him. I could imagine his terror, shaking in the dark, no idea what was about to happen, what was going on, where that mean guy that had grabbed him earlier was, but he knew that whatever followed would be horrible. Waiting for it was probably just as bad.

Time to start up the crudely cut steps of the beginning stages, time to start hacking away at Riley Poole until he no longer knew who he was. They made assault on identity sound so easy.

­­­­­

So that was a bunch of thick dialogue, I hope it was readable. I guess the Riley angst truly and finally starts next chapter. I hope Ben doesn't die while I let him sit and fester in his cell back in Price… he's kind of stuck at the moment.