Disclaimer: I do not own anyone in the Invisible Man universe. I don't own them, and neither do you, as much as we might want to. Tyler Bardeux is mine though. MINE, I tell you!
*************
"The philosopher, Heracleitus, once stated that `it is difficult to fight against anger; for a man will buy revenge with his soul.' That might have been true in his time, but today's running price for revenge is your sanity. At least, that's what it almost cost me."
************
That Saturday started like any other. Darien awoke at around 9:30 and sluggishly got into the shower. What made this Saturday different was the phone call that came while he was shampooing his hair.
"Aw, crap," Darien said, as he quickly rinsed, turned off the water and grabbed a towel from outside the curtain. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he went into the den to grab the phone, which was on its third ring. Only then did he remember that he didn't have a phone. He always used the pay phone on the street.
Looking around the room, he quickly noticed the black cell phone lying on his leather chair. He picked it up just as it began ringing for the fourth time.
"Hello?"
"Stay deep in the shadows and stay out of the pen," a voice relied on the other side of the line.
Darien nearly dropped his towel when he heard those words. That phrase, which would have seemed odd to most people, struck a deep cord within Darien. He hadn't heard that expression since...
"Remember your tools, and remember your time," he spoke back into the phone.
A deep laugh came through the line. "Damn, it is you, Darien. I couldn't believe it at first. I thought Mark was sending me on a wild Fawkes hunt. How the hell are ya?"
"Sopping wet, actually. You caught me in the shower, Tyler." Darien said as he adjusted his towel.
"Oh, it's that time of the month, huh?" The voice chuckled. "All right, how about we meet in about thirty minutes? I noticed a bar across from your joint while I was breaking in."
*************
As Darien crossed the busy street, he tried to gaze into the bar window to catch a glimpse of a man that might be Tyler Bardeux. Back in juvenile hall, Tyler had been your typical troublemaker, and he had looked the part: ragged clothes which he had worn with pride, piercings all up his ears, and hair that was usually a different color each week. But try as he may, Darien couldn't see a man who possible fit Tyler's usual appearance.
Darien entered the bar, thinking that Tyler had ditched him. He quickly looked around, not noticing his old friend. Disheartened, he turned to leave but stopped when he heard his name called from the other side of the bar.
"Fawkes, get your ass over here."
Darien looked in the direction of the voice, and noticed his friend sitting alone in a corner: wearing a three-piece suit. Casually walking over toward Tyler's table, Darien gave him a quick looking over.
"What did you do to yourself, Tyler?" Darien asked as he pulled up a chair. "You actually look, dare I say it, normal."
Tyler snickered, but Darien noticed a nervous tone deep in the laughter. "Well, I got myself some corporate sponsors. I'm working with some of the big boys now, you know, capital larceny and stuff, and they ask that we look...professional." Tyler paused for a second to take a swallow from the Corona in front of him. Then, he continued: "What about you, Darien? Last I heard, they had you on a bottom-of-the-ninth, swing-and-a-miss third strike. How'd you con your way out of that? Did you break out or something?"
Darien looked him straight in the eye. "Would you believe me if I told you I did?"
Tyler scoffed. "No."
"Then I won't say that I did."
Tyler looked at Darien with skepticism for a second, then the realization hit him. "You sold out, didn't you? They'd let you go if you ratted on someone else? Who'd you squeal on? Not Liz, was it? `Cause I knew you two were close and all--"
"Tyler, I didn't squeal on anyone," Darien interrupted. "I just had better things to do than rot in prison."
"Which federation bailed you out?" Tyler was insistent.
Darien sighed. "A private agency, but that's common knowledge, so I'll thank you to keep quiet about it."
"Not a prob, bro," Tyler stated while grabbing another sip from his beer. "In fact, it might help me. A lot."
Darien looked at his pal, then folded to the temptation to ask. "Help you with what?"
"Darien, I'm in deep shit."
*************
"During my short time at the Agency, I've seen some pretty amazing things: poisonous fingertips, homicidal rats, Claire dancing around in her bra. However, none of those things could have prepared me for what my childhood pal was about to tell me."
*************
Tyler took a long gulp of his beer before he continued. "You know me, Darien. I've always enjoyed a challenge. So, when Mr. Galatea called--"
"Wait," Darien interrupted. "Stephan Galetea? Isn't he--"
Tyler nodded. "Yeah, and all the stories are true, too. Every burglar working under his 'rule' is held by a strict contract. I've seen some of his best men shot down because they merely thought about talking to the police.
"So, why did you come talk to me?"
Another gulp of beer. "I want out, but I don't know how. You were always the brains of the operations. You came up with plans, and I was the idiot who carried them out."
"Why don't you just call the cops now? I'm sure the police are dying to catch this guy."
"Because the police can't catch him. He uses every means possible to escape. He's killed children, for crying out loud."
Darien paused for a minute, then took the beer from his friend's hand. "Okay, any ideas how to get you out of this?"
A wave of relief washed over Tyler's face. "Well, at first, I thought you had broken out of third strike, so I was gonna ask to hide with you, since you're doing such a good job staying out of sight. But now that you're with this Agency, as you called it, maybe you could pull some strings with the big cheese, if you know what I mean."
"Big is right," Darien watched as Tyler took the beer from his hand. "All right, I'll talk to him. In the meanwhile, stay at my place. I believe you know the way in."
"Fine," Tyler said. "That's fine."
Darien stood up. "I'll go right now and play puppeteer. You stay out of sight."
"Thanks man. And Fawkes, stay in the shadows."
Darien smiled. "Remember your time." With that, he walked out of the bar--
--and right into Bobby Hobbes.
"So, Fawkes," Hobbes started. "I had figured I would stop by your place before work, sans donuts, and offer you a ride to headquarters, but you were gone. So, I had figured you had left already, but your car was still there. So, I decided to search for you, and here I find you, at a bar, at ten thirty in the morning, talking to someone I don't know or approve of--"
Darien interrupted Hobbes mid-lecture. "Hobbes, buddy, Tyler is just a friend. No one can replace you in my heart." He clasped his hand to his chest and sniffled. "You're right here, man."
"Funny, Fawkes. Let's see you still joke when the Official docks you for being late, once again."
"I was heading there right now. I need to talk to Charlie about something." Darien looked back into the bar, but Tyler had left the table.
Hobbes sighed. "Fine, let's just get going. I'll drive."
*************
"The philosopher, Heracleitus, once stated that `it is difficult to fight against anger; for a man will buy revenge with his soul.' That might have been true in his time, but today's running price for revenge is your sanity. At least, that's what it almost cost me."
************
That Saturday started like any other. Darien awoke at around 9:30 and sluggishly got into the shower. What made this Saturday different was the phone call that came while he was shampooing his hair.
"Aw, crap," Darien said, as he quickly rinsed, turned off the water and grabbed a towel from outside the curtain. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he went into the den to grab the phone, which was on its third ring. Only then did he remember that he didn't have a phone. He always used the pay phone on the street.
Looking around the room, he quickly noticed the black cell phone lying on his leather chair. He picked it up just as it began ringing for the fourth time.
"Hello?"
"Stay deep in the shadows and stay out of the pen," a voice relied on the other side of the line.
Darien nearly dropped his towel when he heard those words. That phrase, which would have seemed odd to most people, struck a deep cord within Darien. He hadn't heard that expression since...
"Remember your tools, and remember your time," he spoke back into the phone.
A deep laugh came through the line. "Damn, it is you, Darien. I couldn't believe it at first. I thought Mark was sending me on a wild Fawkes hunt. How the hell are ya?"
"Sopping wet, actually. You caught me in the shower, Tyler." Darien said as he adjusted his towel.
"Oh, it's that time of the month, huh?" The voice chuckled. "All right, how about we meet in about thirty minutes? I noticed a bar across from your joint while I was breaking in."
*************
As Darien crossed the busy street, he tried to gaze into the bar window to catch a glimpse of a man that might be Tyler Bardeux. Back in juvenile hall, Tyler had been your typical troublemaker, and he had looked the part: ragged clothes which he had worn with pride, piercings all up his ears, and hair that was usually a different color each week. But try as he may, Darien couldn't see a man who possible fit Tyler's usual appearance.
Darien entered the bar, thinking that Tyler had ditched him. He quickly looked around, not noticing his old friend. Disheartened, he turned to leave but stopped when he heard his name called from the other side of the bar.
"Fawkes, get your ass over here."
Darien looked in the direction of the voice, and noticed his friend sitting alone in a corner: wearing a three-piece suit. Casually walking over toward Tyler's table, Darien gave him a quick looking over.
"What did you do to yourself, Tyler?" Darien asked as he pulled up a chair. "You actually look, dare I say it, normal."
Tyler snickered, but Darien noticed a nervous tone deep in the laughter. "Well, I got myself some corporate sponsors. I'm working with some of the big boys now, you know, capital larceny and stuff, and they ask that we look...professional." Tyler paused for a second to take a swallow from the Corona in front of him. Then, he continued: "What about you, Darien? Last I heard, they had you on a bottom-of-the-ninth, swing-and-a-miss third strike. How'd you con your way out of that? Did you break out or something?"
Darien looked him straight in the eye. "Would you believe me if I told you I did?"
Tyler scoffed. "No."
"Then I won't say that I did."
Tyler looked at Darien with skepticism for a second, then the realization hit him. "You sold out, didn't you? They'd let you go if you ratted on someone else? Who'd you squeal on? Not Liz, was it? `Cause I knew you two were close and all--"
"Tyler, I didn't squeal on anyone," Darien interrupted. "I just had better things to do than rot in prison."
"Which federation bailed you out?" Tyler was insistent.
Darien sighed. "A private agency, but that's common knowledge, so I'll thank you to keep quiet about it."
"Not a prob, bro," Tyler stated while grabbing another sip from his beer. "In fact, it might help me. A lot."
Darien looked at his pal, then folded to the temptation to ask. "Help you with what?"
"Darien, I'm in deep shit."
*************
"During my short time at the Agency, I've seen some pretty amazing things: poisonous fingertips, homicidal rats, Claire dancing around in her bra. However, none of those things could have prepared me for what my childhood pal was about to tell me."
*************
Tyler took a long gulp of his beer before he continued. "You know me, Darien. I've always enjoyed a challenge. So, when Mr. Galatea called--"
"Wait," Darien interrupted. "Stephan Galetea? Isn't he--"
Tyler nodded. "Yeah, and all the stories are true, too. Every burglar working under his 'rule' is held by a strict contract. I've seen some of his best men shot down because they merely thought about talking to the police.
"So, why did you come talk to me?"
Another gulp of beer. "I want out, but I don't know how. You were always the brains of the operations. You came up with plans, and I was the idiot who carried them out."
"Why don't you just call the cops now? I'm sure the police are dying to catch this guy."
"Because the police can't catch him. He uses every means possible to escape. He's killed children, for crying out loud."
Darien paused for a minute, then took the beer from his friend's hand. "Okay, any ideas how to get you out of this?"
A wave of relief washed over Tyler's face. "Well, at first, I thought you had broken out of third strike, so I was gonna ask to hide with you, since you're doing such a good job staying out of sight. But now that you're with this Agency, as you called it, maybe you could pull some strings with the big cheese, if you know what I mean."
"Big is right," Darien watched as Tyler took the beer from his hand. "All right, I'll talk to him. In the meanwhile, stay at my place. I believe you know the way in."
"Fine," Tyler said. "That's fine."
Darien stood up. "I'll go right now and play puppeteer. You stay out of sight."
"Thanks man. And Fawkes, stay in the shadows."
Darien smiled. "Remember your time." With that, he walked out of the bar--
--and right into Bobby Hobbes.
"So, Fawkes," Hobbes started. "I had figured I would stop by your place before work, sans donuts, and offer you a ride to headquarters, but you were gone. So, I had figured you had left already, but your car was still there. So, I decided to search for you, and here I find you, at a bar, at ten thirty in the morning, talking to someone I don't know or approve of--"
Darien interrupted Hobbes mid-lecture. "Hobbes, buddy, Tyler is just a friend. No one can replace you in my heart." He clasped his hand to his chest and sniffled. "You're right here, man."
"Funny, Fawkes. Let's see you still joke when the Official docks you for being late, once again."
"I was heading there right now. I need to talk to Charlie about something." Darien looked back into the bar, but Tyler had left the table.
Hobbes sighed. "Fine, let's just get going. I'll drive."
