It Could Be Worse (2nd Season)
Episode 20:
Genius Arrives, Fashionably Late
By Sulia Serafine
[A Protector of the Small fanfic set in an alternate universe; all credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me. Any other copyrighted things that don't belong to me in here in fact belong to other very businesslike people. Could you believe that? I guess that's why I'm broke.
BAD LANGUAGE (I. E. cursing, swearing…)! E-mail me at silverwlng@aol.com okay? And you know the drill: titles or subjects of emails are fanfiction.net, s.serafine, or icbw.
IMPORTANT NOTE: I'm still accepting people into the mailing list. That means you'll be told when the next episode is posted, as well as other tidbits of information about the series whenever I put them online. ALSO: Every now and then, as a pledge, I'll send everyone bonus material, such as drawings of ICBW characters and little random facts about ICBW.
~~
He ran his fingertips delicately over the rim of his wine glass, wondering distractedly when last he sampled this particular brand of exquisiteness. With a slightly amused smirk, he concluded that he had in fact never tasted such fine wine. The mere thought of his first class trip up here to Tusaine was far more intoxicating than the alcohol could ever be.
It had indeed been a long time since he'd even considered indulging himself in anything that wasn't related to science—in particular, the more confusing areas involving animal and machine. After all, what had that got him? A prosperous job that he had fled from to save face from embarrassment (though that was not the story everyone knew) and a cluttered apartment in the slums of Carthak.
Oh, and his dog. Odd little creature, he always thought, but his best friend nonetheless.
Granted, he was a reinstated Federal Scientist again, after the dreadful Immortals incident, which had taken over his whole life. He had a paycheck from the Federal Council every month. And he certainly possessed all the means to buy a new residence—an estate if he so desired—outside of Carthak. But would he go?
Oh, not yet. There was too much on his mind to be trifled by where he slept and ate. Now that he was back in the public forum, back as The Wizard, he never went home except to retrieve Jump.
There was a buzz at the door. Thom Trebond crossed the suite slowly, taking his precious time. His limbs felt so loose about him that he suddenly asked himself how many glasses of that red wine he had actually consumed.
"Yes?" he answered while pressing the intercom.
"Room Service, Sir. I have your meal, three parcels from Shining Knight Men's Wear that your ordered, and a message sent by COMscreen."
"A message? Why didn't I receive the call in here?" Thom asked while pushing the button that would slide open the spotless white door. A young woman dressed in a midnight black uniform and white apron (the most attractive looking would-be French Maid that he could ever hope to see) wheeled in a shiny metal cart with a covered meal on top and three parcels on the bottom. As soon as the cart was inside the suite, she pointed to a sterling silver plate with a folded card on it.
"You said you did not want to be interrupted while you were resting from your trip, Sir," she replied while curtsying.
The famed scientist sighed dully. He supposed he had said that. Thom guessed there would always be a part of him that was still "Scatterbrained Thom", as his colleagues used to say.
"Sir, shall I charge you separate from your hotel bill?"
"Oh, no. Please charge it all on the bill. My sister is the one paying for it anyway." Thom wondered if Alanna realized how unusually mistaken she was for letting him borrow her credit card. He dismissed the maid from his suite and tried not to let his gaze fall on her small rump as she departed.
Too young. You don't need scandal. The Trebond family is famous enough as it is.
He chuckled to himself. His long slim fingers, pale and smooth from never having done hard manual labor, picked up the white card and unfolded it. He read the small cursive script with an expression of distaste. He dropped the card back onto the plate and immediately went to the COMscreen by his leather armchair.
There were only two rings before a familiar redhead with violet eyes was face to face with him.
"Oh, good. You've arrived safely."
"Nice to know you're thinking about my safety at all, dearest," Thom said sarcastically.
His twin sister made a face at him, wrinkling her nose. "I'm sorry, I didn't know that you were turning into a snob again now that reclaimed your Wizard throne."
"I'm not. Besides, I myself wonder if you're really concerned about my well-being, seeing as you've sent me here on a mission rather than a vacation." His eyes fluttered as he faked distress. Alanna glared at him.
"I asked you, mentioning that there were plenty of Dad's own men willing to lend themselves from the Service to come up there. But you said yes. And we all know that no one is going to suspect anything from you."
He snorted. "I'm offended."
"Hardly. You liar. So come on! You're the biologist. Expert on everything that has a pulse and everything mechanical that moves—not that the last one matters here. Find Liam Irons and tell me why he's still alive!" She ground her teeth in agitation. "Goddess knows, I shot him good and dead so long ago."
"So long ago? Are we that old?"
"Yes. That reminds me—keep your deprived hands off that maid that delivered this message. She looked like a preschooler on the COMscreen, Thom. I know you've isolated yourself from people in general for the last few years, but honestly. Hire an escort, for goodness sake." She raised her voice again when she noted he was about to interrupt her. "And when I say escort, I mean a professional escort, not a prostitute with a nice cocktail dress. You're not getting any while you're on the job for me."
"It's absolutely lovely to know you think so highly of me. Escorts. Humph."
"Thom Trebond, get your ass to Liam Irons right now and put him under a microscope. I mean it!"
He blew a kiss at the screen. "Yes, sister dear. Take care. And make sure that husband of yours feeds Jump!"
She rolled her eyes, stuck out her tongue at him, and terminated the connection.
Thom grinned. He glanced at the antique clock hanging on the wall. The pendulum swung back in forth almost hypnotically. There was definitely time to taste the hot sirloin steak he had ordered. Liam Irons could definitely wait another hour. It wasn't as if his resurrected corpse was going to die again any time soon. And if he did, well, Thom could finally turn this into his own vacation, couldn't he?
He frowned when he noticed they forgot to include a suitable cutting knife for the steak. After ordering that from Room Service once again, he decided to contact his favorite pseudo-niece, Lalasa, to let her know he was in town. The brilliant scientist could also kill two birds with one stone by asking her to take him to Keladry Mindelan's apartment. If this Mindelan girl still had relations with Irons, or if she had any at all, he would use her to find the walking dead man.
She wouldn't object, he was sure. He remembered Kel very clearly from the last time he saw her at the Presidential Manor.
"Too principled and loyal to the DJPF. And seeing as her role model is my sister and the whole instigator of this private investigation… well," he smiled. "This is going to be a piece of cake. And I like cake."
The intercom buzzed. He laughed. "But not as much as I like steak."
~~
"Something tells me I should have stayed in the car," Neal muttered sarcastically while he glanced about himself. His two companions glared at him before returning to their attention to elsewhere.
Faleron peered into the glass windows of the building. He hoped that he did not appear too recognizable. The former thief had even gone as far as wear colored contacts and color his hair with washout dye. He had to admit—light brown hair didn't look so bad, considering his natural hair color was black.
"I didn't think you to be a man of vanity, Fal. I'm disappointed," Cleon teased. While Neal and Faleron were dressed in business suits, he donned a lab coat and a nametag that indicated he was an intern. The attire had been swiped from the laundry carts in the janitorial area. Of course, he would return them. But should he get caught, this unknown "Carl" was just going to have to deal with it.
They passed security without any problems. Each DJPF officer held his breath in anticipation of being caught, but Faleron appeared as relaxed as could be. He toyed with his cufflinks while they waited for the elevator.
The Tusaine Branch of the Federal Science Department was actually a whole complex on Tusaine University's campus. Second-rate security guards had been replaced with competent DJPF officers because of the Tkaa Project crisis. Luckily, no one recognized Cleon or Neal. Since they were still relatively new to Tusaine, the two wouldn't have become acquainted with every officer yet.
They took the elevator up two floors. It did not take long to find a computer terminal, where they could access restricted files. Faleron locked the door behind them. Gently, he removed the faceplate of the intercom and began tampering with the wires and circuitry beneath. Cleon watched as Neal sat down and began to sort through specific records of access the night the program was stolen.
"No backups. The backups were located in different folders, away from the original. They found those, too, and took them," he muttered while rubbing his chin. He looked up at Cleon to see the intrigue on his face. "What do you think, Red? This is your op, here."
Pride surged through Cleon's head, swelling his ego. He sat down on a stool and pointed to the screen. "What's that there? Open that one up."
A window on the screen opened up, revealing the details for a particular access late into the night. A click from the mouse produced another window, displaying the profile of a man in his late sixties. Neal leaned back in his chair.
"Voelden Tirrsmont. Senior Councilman and the former Mr. Mithros of three decades ago when he was still a bodybuilder." He massaged his upper arms. "Humph. I bet I could be Mr. Mithros."
"He's been in this building more than a dozen times all in the same week. What was he up to?" Cleon asked, not expecting an answer from the other two men.
Faleron tapped the screen. "That's not right."
"No d'uh, Thief Boy. We all know that," Neal retorted.
"I'm serious. That man did not come in here. It's not right," Faleron firmly spoke. He leaned over Neal and stabbed his finger again at the image. "I saw it in the news less than a month ago. He had a stroke that put him in a coma. I never heard anything since to prove that he's awake and well."
Cleon frowned. "Someone is using his identification to get in here? And no one is noticing?"
Neal winced. "Perhaps we should keep that one to ourselves. The Council and the rest of the Federation would chew the DJPF out about that security bumble."
"Okay. We have to find out who would be able to use Tirrsmont's ID. Anyone up for a trip to the hospital?"
"I just got out of there! No!" Neal protested.
"Tough luck, Squealin' Nealan," Faleron smirked. He patted the pocket where his employer's card was. He was thoroughly pleased that they hadn't been caught in the act. Of course, he never expected them to be. He was too good at this. It was like breathing air to him. Sneaking around for the common good, that is.
The sharpshooter whistled and leapt up from his stool. "What are we waiting for boys? The trail is getting warmer. And you know I like it hot!"
"Oh, phew. For a second there, I thought he was going to have a whole day without a corny line." Faleron lifted his hand to his chest and breathed a sigh of relief. He received a light punch from the redhead. Then, he started to unlock the door for them to exit. Neal logged out of the computer, erasing the internal log of their little visit.
Cleon was the first out of the room. He immediately slammed into someone passing by. The force of the impact caused him to fly backwards into his companions. Neal had to brace himself to keep all three of them from falling. Cleon arms flailed about in a windmill fashion before he found his center of gravity again and stood straight.
"Whoa! I'm so sorry!" he hastily exclaimed to the man he had intercepted.
Faleron rubbed his shoulder where Cleon had leaned. He eyed the newcomer with distrust. Then the former thief quickly switched to disguised mode and brushed himself off. "I apologize for his clumsiness as well. Thank goodness we pay these men for their multiplications tables and not their grace, right?"
The man, seemingly in his thirties though his hair was completely white, smiled at them. Faleron felt drawn to the man's magnetic aquamarine eyes. He forced himself to look away as the stranger spoke. "I know what you mean." His gaze flickered over to Cleon. "I hope you didn't hurt anything?"
"Oh, no. No, I'm fine. Sorry, again."
He nodded to them politely and continued on his way. As soon as he rounded the corner, the sharpshooter started cursing to himself while rubbing his chest where it had struck the other man's shoulder.
"Are you sure you're fine?" Neal questioned.
"No, not really. Man! It was like slamming into a brick wall, dudes! That guy didn't even stumble. Did you see it? Did you?" he asked with wide eyes.
"I wonder who he was," Faleron whispered.
"Who cares? We have to get to the hospital and see if we can pick up any leads from Mr. Tirrsmont," Neal reminded. The three men dismissed the brief incident from their minds and headed for the exit. Before they were out of the building, a female intern made a nice comment about Faleron's dyed hair. He inwardly reminded himself of Fianola while receiving teasing looks from his two DJPF friends.
"He coulda been a contenda," Cleon recited in a horrible imitation of an accent.
"And when he says contender, he means player," Neal said in a stage whisper to annoy the former thief even more.
Faleron shrugged his shoulder. "I think I just raised my fee. Dinner with entertainment. Belly dancers with dark hair." He paused and smiled devilishly. "Just like Kalasin."
"Low blow, man. Low blow," Cleon glared.
~~
Keladry spared a glance at her partner while they sped along the road toward the DJPF station. He was more than just her partner now, yet he was still as distant as the first time she met him. Kel frowned. Her embrace unintentionally tightened around him, no matter how much she told herself that he was doing his best to become a better person, despite how he appeared at that moment.
Feeling her arms squeeze him, Joren thought of asking her if anything was wrong, but he could not bring himself to utter a word. He concentrated on his driving, leaning in on a turn. Joren didn't know why he couldn't force himself to express his feelings like a normal person. He tried. He was still trying. And that was the best he could do.
Take your time, he told himself. There's nothing else to do.
When they arrived at the station, Joren found himself disturbingly grateful to stop touching his partner, even if it was an innocent motorcycle ride. He didn't feel innocent. He had not felt innocent in a long time. Keladry, however, missed touching him. She inwardly feared that if she let go, he would disappear. She felt miserable for developing such dependencies.
She'd lived her whole life being independent. These newly realized feelings for her partner were like a crutch that she feared would be kicked out from under her at any moment.
Too much vulnerability. Is this how he feels? She wondered.
"The car isn't here," Joren observed, his head swiveling around to scan the garage.
"They can still be inside," Keladry interjected. He nodded.
Inside, they checked the cubicles assigned to Neal and Cleon when they were actually working at the station. The workspace was undisturbed. Keladry even checked with Neal's God brother, Dom, but the Rider hadn't seen him since early that morning in the coffee room.
"He was headed to the third computer lab, I think," he offered, flashing a charming smile to her. Joren fought to check himself of his jealousy.
"Thanks, Dom." Keladry smiled just as brightly in return. The more she spent with her friends, the more Keladry discovered she liked to smile. Even if she wasn't on a level deep enough to confide in them in trustworthy ways, she still saw herself as having come a long way from who she used to be.
The Rider chuckled and opened his mouth to say something else that he hoped would lead into a bigger conversation, but Joren caught on to his ploy.
"Whatever. Let's go," Joren snapped. He stalked ahead, causing Keladry to jog to catch up with his quick strides. She dismissed Dom from her mind almost as quickly as he'd entered it. The Rider, a bit offended, hid his disappointment by casually shrugging it off and wandering over to another group of elder officers for more small talk. He looked over his shoulder.
Dom smiled at their hasty exit. After a moment's debate, he decided that he knew exactly what Joren was thinking. It comforted him to know that his old comrade was finally rejoining the human race, although in bits and pieces at a time. He'll be kicking back with the rest of us within a month.
Elsewhere, Keladry went through random files and computer disks lying about the third computer lab. None of it was related to the Tkaa project. Defeated, she sat down and folded her arms across her chest.
"At least they're not dumb enough to leave tracks," Joren said. He sat in the chair beside her backward and rested his arms on the back of it.
Keladry rolled her eyes. She considered a moment before laying a hand on his arm. He recoiled.
"What's wrong now?" he asked in a displeased, monotone voice. His eyes gazed aside at her troubled expression.
She shrugged. "I don't know."
"Is it something to do with a clown, a flirt, and a smartass?"
The female officer hid her amused smile expertly behind a mask of disdain and shook her head. "Actually, no."
He sighed. There was only one other thing she could be talking about. He didn't want to talk about that anymore. They'd done nothing but talk about it all day. He feared that if he did any more talking, he would start spouting love poetry like Neal or become hopelessly whipped like Cleon. Of course, he now admitted that starting over with Keladry was what he wanted, but he still felt so uncomfortable. He felt… like a simpering wimp.
He tried to banish their earlier 'romantic' scene in the hallway from his head. For a brief second, he wondered what the others might say, but then he told himself that he had never given a damn about their opinion, so why start now? Joren trained his eyes on the wall in front of him. "I thought it was made clear."
Upset at his negative response, Keladry gritted her teeth and threw her hands up in the air as a sign of frustration. "Oh, I don't know! Forget I even said anything again. It's stupid. You're right. It was made crystal clear and I won't bring it up again."
She lowered her head. Keladry was mad at herself for being caught up in a fit of emotion, when it was certainly not her nature to do so. Everything she had been feeling and confessing in the last day had been hard to adjust to. She couldn't convert right away. Trying harder not to change was even harder than letting it go.
And he wasn't making it any easier! Had he not said an hour ago that he wanted to start over? Had she not thrown caution to the wind for the umpteenth time because of him and then had it thrown back in her face? Every time Joren revealed part of his true self to her, he automatically regained his senses and covered it all up like a bad coat of paint in his room. He couldn't decide what he really wanted, she realized.
I can't believe this is happening, she thought. AGAIN.
Keladry glared at him and hoped that he felt some regret for his mood swings. She couldn't believe that she'd abruptly changed her whole personality to be open and welcome to his battered spirit. It made her want to kick herself.
"Kel?" He raised one eyebrow suspiciously.
"Stone?" she replied icily.
"You're pissed off more than before."
"You think?" she snapped. "I told you, it doesn't matter. It's stupid."
Joren leaned over, still straddling his chair, and cupped her chin. He brought her face close to his and made her stare into his clear blue eyes. "You're right. It is stupid. So stop it, because I hate kissing melodramatic people."
With that, he lowered his lips onto hers and gave her a surprisingly warm, affectionate kiss. Keladry held her breath, unsure of what to make of his new attitude. The blonde pulled away and stood up, acting as if nothing important had occurred.
"I'm going to see Buri. Stay here," he ordered. His insides were strangely fluttering and he didn't want her to see him tremble.
When he was gone, Keladry touched her lips, still burning from his heat.
"Mood swings," she muttered with a sigh. Hopeless and tired, she rolled her eyes again and slumped in her chair. "Well, definitely better than killing each other." She paused. "I think."
~~
"Well, what do you think of our luck! Keladry is at the station," Neal said, looking at the message on his pager from his best friend.
"Why do you think she's looking for us?" Cleon asked. He leaned against the wall, pouting.
Faleron held up his hands and backed away. "Hey, this is your problem, not mine. I'm just waiting for my three course dinner."
Neal let out a deep breath. "Then there's only one thing we can do."
"What?" Cleon asked.
"Lie."
Faleron smiled. "Ah. Lie. Good choice."
"Lie? About what?" the redhead frowned.
"Whichever facts are lie-worthy."
"Okay, you're confusing me. Do we really have to lie to Kel? I mean, she's Kel!"
"My point exactly. She's still the same young woman we met half a year ago. Job first, then friends. If I were you, I'd just tell her you went to the forensics lab downtown in hopes that they found some microscopic clue in the Federal Science Building." He pointed to Neal. "Just page her back and be done with it.
"I have a bad feeling about this," Neal muttered, but he did as he was told.
~~
Thom casually sat down on the couch, taking in his surroundings. It had been far too easy to coerce Lalasa to show him to the apartment building and convince her he was just visiting some friends. He considered Keladry Mindelan a friend, even if she was not present to visit with… and even if he broke into her humble abode. Thom would merely have to entertain himself. And he was very happy to do so.
"Now where, oh where, is her COMscreen?" he wondered aloud.
The plan was nearly flawless. Thom expected for Liam Irons to have Caller ID of some sort on his COMscreen, so calling from Keladry's apartment would throw him off. Then with a few vague words, he would lure Liam to come here where Thom would extract his tissue sample.
"And whatever happens afterwards will be some good wholesome fun," he chuckled.
The scientist had no idea why he was being so mischievous and carefree these past few days. He blamed it on his twin sister's meddling. If she hadn't given him a break from his recently reconstructed life, Thom would probably be stressed over a new invention or a strange experiment. Perhaps his subconscious realized this was the last time he would be free from his demanding work.
The thought of stealing tissue samples from a very dangerous man sent a fiery rush through Thom's limbs. The threat of being killed by this man made him want to shout and jump up and down, as if this were the last chance to be lively.
"How appealing it all is," he whispered to himself, horrified with the words that fought their way out of him. "How attractive… this danger is…" He took a deep breath and calmed himself. It was time to work.
The COMscreen's memory bank was easy to navigate. Keladry never called anyone outside of work or her apartment building, save for a few friends. Thom scrolled down the list until he found the cell phone of Keladry's ex-boyfriend. He dialed up the number and waited patiently.
Liam apparently took the bait, for he answered in a partially angry, partially anxious voice.
"Why are you calling me?"
Thom wished that he could see the other's reaction. He spoke. "Because I'm fascinated, Mr. Irons. And I'd like some questions answered, if you simply come over here."
There was a pause. More angrily, he replied, "Who are you? Why are you at her place?"
"Wouldn't you like to know," Thom snorted.
"You can't use her against me. We broke up, if you hadn't heard. Who is this?" Liam growled.
"A fan, Mr. Irons." He paused. "Wouldn't you feel guilty, though?"
"I have nothing to feel guilty about."
"You would if something happened to her because you refused to see me. Sure, you might not be dating anymore, but knowing her, you can't have possibly parted with ill feelings. You still hold some degree of concern for her, right?" Thom said in a low, husky voice. He was compelled to pray for forgiveness from Keladry for using her when wasn't involved. But Liam wasn't natural. He defied the natural order of things by living. And that was all the justification that the logic-driven scientist needed.
The silence dragged on. Thom wondered if Liam had hung up. But then the other man spoke again, trying to hide the defeat that Thom could hear in his words.
"Okay, okay. I'm coming. But let Kel go. She's naïve; she doesn't half of the truth about—" he stopped himself, tripping over his potential giveaway. He covered up his mistake by telling Thom that there was a butterfly knife with his name on it, and hung up.
Thom took the conversation off the COMscreen log. Afterwards, he made himself comfortable on Keladry's couch, running his fingers through his short and flat red hair. He'd never willingly flirted with danger like this. He'd spent his life being deceived and also very naïve. Now there was no one to blame except his own foolishness.
"Here's to the higher things, then," he said fleetingly. He should have brought some more of that wine so he could have toasted to the statement. In the end, he swung up his legs onto the couch and slipped into a peaceful nap.
Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang. Thom opened his eyes immediately. He sat up and smoothed the wrinkles on his shirt. He was going to make a good impression—one of confidence and mystery. The last thing he wanted to look like was a slob.
He banished the majority of his fears and pressed down on the intercom button. "Mindelan residence. All fiends welcome."
"Cute," was the sarcastic reply. "Open the damn door."
Thom did so. As soon as the door had slid open a crack, Liam's fingers curled around the edge of it and pushed the rest through. He dashed forward and shoved a gun in Thom's face, right between the eyes. The older man toppled backwards while Liam continued to bear down on him with the gun. The door slid shut.
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you," Liam challenged.
Thom closed his eyes, nervously, and tried to come up with a suitable response. What he got instead were thoughts of how sweat was forming at the small of his back and the nape of his neck. He opened his eyes again and looked to the side of his head.
"Keladry is bound to ask some questions if she finds my dead body on her carpet. And even if you get rid of my body, there are always bloodstains. I don't care what you think you're capable of. You'd never be able to wash it out completely." He grinned. "Your ex-girlfriend is very perceptive when it comes to things like this. She'd notice any discoloration or smell right away.
Thom couldn't get rid of the nauseous feeling at the pit of his belly, but vomit on the carpet wouldn't escape Keladry either. At that particular point, though, blood or vomit, Thom decided that the latter was preferable. "You don't have a silencer on that damn thing anyway. She has neighbors, you know. And they're all enforcers of the law."
The barrel of the gun dug hard into his skin. Liam pressed a little more, having no need to show the fury in his expression when his hands were communicating the emotion even better.
"You think you're a smart little shit, don't you? Well, come on. Tell me why you wanted to see me. We'll see how smart you really are."
"Let me up first."
He obliged, keeping his gun pointed at Thom's head and knowing that the unarmed man was much weaker. "Only because you stand no chance on the floor or off it."
Thom rubbed his forehead where a red impression of the gun barrel was now visible. He brushed himself off and extended his hand to his guest. "The name is Thom. I am a friend of Keladry's, even if she's not the apple of your eye any longer."
Liam looked down at the proffered hand and snorted. "I don't shake hands."
"Well, besides being a scientist and inventor, I am a civil businessman and I do shake hands," Thom insisted, never withdrawing his arm an inch. He bit the inside of his cheek. There was no other way to do this. He had to shake the man's hand or throw the whole scheme out the window.
His boldness paid off. The younger hit man reluctantly reached out to Thom's to show that he wasn't intimidated. If anything, his arrogance was to blame. They clasped hands uneasily. Suddenly, Thom squeezed hard, and a needle extended from his cufflink and stabbed the back of Liam's hand. He retracted immediately, hissing at the sting.
"Why you little—" he choked out angrily. He cocked his gun and pointed it at Thom's head again.
"I thought we already had this conversation," Thom warned. He fiddled with his cufflink to make sure the sample was secure.
The other man reached into his jacket and pulled out a black cylindrical shape. "Oh, what do you know—a silencer." He sneered. Liam also glanced toward the kitchenette. "And golly," he sardonically continued, enjoying the mockery. "I happen to know where she keeps the plastic trash bags and the Saran wrap. So much for staining her beautiful carpet."
"Hey, now—"
"Shut up. Whatever that needle was, hand it over." Liam fitted the silencer onto the end of his gun and gestured toward Thom's cuff again.
A shaky laughter bubbled up from the scientist's throat. "I'm not sure you want me to give it to you. The full dosage would be liable to kill you."
"What?" Liam's eyes widened.
"Look at the back of your hand, my friend. Notice anything odd about it?"
He looked. The puncture mark was swollen and purple. Liam cursed. "What was that thing?"
"Poison from a snake that a K'mir gave to me. Did I tell you I once had a little menagerie? Many animals, all very wonderful creatures." With building confidence, he shrugged. "The needle that stung you is actually not one, but two needles. One extracts a sample; the other inserts the poison. I have an antidote, but that's only if you cooperate."
"What's the sample for?" Liam asked warily.
"I'm a fascinated scientist who is innocently curious as to your existence." He cleared his throat. "I believe you've met my sister, Alanna? She shot you dead years ago." He hid his increasing fear and nausea by showing him a tight-lipped smile. "Curiouser and curiouser, like Alice says."
The back of the hit man's hand started to throb. It wasn't a bluff, as much as Liam hoped it was.
"Not feeling at the top of your game, hmm? I bet I'm the first one in a long time to make you lose your cool, eh?"
"Not really. I have my gun aimed at a particular blond nuisance in my spare time. So what is it that you want from me now? I assure you, if you don't give me that antidote, I'm very capable of placing a bullet in your head while I'm in my death throes."
Thom knew he was crossing the line, but he was interested. "What can you possibly offer me?"
"The answers to a million questions. You science geeks are all about answering the questions of the universe, aren't you?" he spat.
"Tempting, but keep going. I don't think you could give me the answers to my questions anyway."
"The Tkaa Project. I know who stole it and I know where and how they're using it right now."
The nerves at the back of Thom's head tingled. "I heard of that project. I was told they never got if off the ground. I was wondering if they'd need my supervision, despite it being computerized and not purely mechanical, like I'm familiar with, but they were going to apply it to mechanical means." He scratched his chin, suddenly very interested.
Liam holstered his gun. "Hate to tell you this, but the project has been on for a while. It has nothing to do with your expertise, but I can show it to you." He appealed to Thom's vanity. "Aren't you also curious to know how it works? You can see it in action if I take you there. The lowlifes have been having fun like little children with a new toy. They aren't using it to its full potential. I'm sure you could think of plenty of applications, like you would have if the Department had included you.
He caused Thom to stare into his eyes and he held him there spellbound. His lips moved, forming silent words in a language that very few people knew. He chanted silently, waiting for the brightness in the older man's violet eyes to dim. When he was sure he was inside, Liam ceased his reciting and spoke to the scientist. "They must still have you in exile, in spirit, if not in body. Poor Wizard."
"You're lying."
"Am I?"
Is he?
"Shut up."
"You're scared, Wizard?"
Stop calling me that.
"Stop calling me that. Wizard has always been a stupid nickname."
"I know you want to see the project and how it works."
Maybe just a little.
"You want to rescue it so the Department will hold the great Wizard in high esteem once again. Remember, just because you're back in the world of the living doesn't mean they'll treat you like a living human being."
Have they ever?
No they haven't.
This is a trick.
But it's so tempting.
You know you want to.
You want to… so badly.
Why can't you ever have the adventure? Why can't they ever recognize your genius?
Not even Alanna acknowledges that. She just makes fun of you like sisters always do.
Thom felt anger throbbing like an open wound over his heart. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to take control. But the temptation…
Go.
See it.
Take it.
"Stop that!" Thom yelled.
Liam slyly smiled. "Coming?"
Thom ground his teeth together. "Fine. Let's go."
He pushed past Liam toward the door. The hit man exulted in his having turned the tables. Enishi Yukishiro hadn't resurrected him to be a muscle without a brain. The mind of Liam Irons was as sharp as a razor, and even more dangerous.
~~
"Where is it?" Thom asked. The two men were in one of the back rooms of a popular nightclub downtown. He wished he hadn't agreed to come, but something inside him wouldn't let him refuse to. Now he stood beside the man that he was supposed to have manipulated, not the other way around.
Liam glared irritably at the swelling puncture wound on his hand. He flexed his fingers, trying to circulate some feeling, but he could already feel it going numb. This scientist was going to pay for his little trick. "This way, Mr. Trebond. But please, be quiet. The men we are dealing with aren't all there upstairs. They're impulsive and dangerous."
"Maybe it's best, then, if we leave—"
"I don't think so." Liam turned and stared at Thom with a piercing gaze. "We are going to recover this stupid project and you are going to give me the antidote."
Thom didn't respond to that. He submissively followed the hit man as he went through an open door and entered another room filled with people.
There was a long table under a lamp that shone red. The executive chairs surrounding the table were filled with men and women, some with "companions" that occupied their attention. Other men and women were drinking and laughing as they conversed. Only two men in white-collar shirts and ties kept to themselves. They were seated around a large network of computers and wiring. Between their two chairs was a black box with a strange lizard image on it.
"Yo, man! What's up? Who are you?" a man shouted over the loud music playing. He approached the newcomers in a not exactly straight path.
"'Shiro sent us. Can you come with us for a second, buddy?" Liam yelled in a city accent that Thom had not heard him use before. The man, tipsy as he was, shrugged and followed them back out, grinning.
They went back down the corridor until they found a niche in the wall with one very dim light overhead. Liam stopped and turned around.
"What's going on, man? Who's 'Shiro? Is he a new guy?"
Liam reached into his jacket, smirking. "Not 'Shiro. Yukishiro. He sends his greetings." With that, he quickly drew a knife and plunged it into the man's chest. The man opened his mouth to scream in pain, but Liam covered it with his free hand to muffle the sound until the man was dead.
Meanwhile, Thom backed against the opposite wall, eyes wide. Frozen to the spot, he could only watch as Liam dragged the man into a dark corner behind some pipes. Then, Liam returned, flipping through the dead man's wallet. He finally found the plastic card he was looking for and tucked it into his back pocket.
"Why did you do that?" Thom finally gasped.
"Because it needed to be done." He paused. "You know what? Go back there and get the man's leather jacket. You look too obvious in that crap you have on," Liam commanded. When Thom didn't budge, he stepped up close and stared the scientist down.
"Do it."
Thom, trying not to retch at the idea of robbing a corpse, reluctantly went into the dark space and took the man's jacket. The body was still warm. Thom shuddered and ran back into the lighted area where Liam was waiting.
"Don't just stand there; put it on."
"But—"
"Just put the damn jacket on!" Liam bellowed.
Thom gulped. He clenched his teeth as if in pain while he slipped on the leather jacket. Afterwards, Liam gestured for him to follow. He ran a hand through his dark hair. "Look. We're going to go in there. Some very bad shit is about to go down. You go straight to that black box and stay there until I tell you to grab it and go. I'll clear the path."
It seemed to Thom that his whole universe had just been turned upside down. Everything was happening so fast and Thom couldn't react in time to save himself. He shook his head to clear it, but when he opened his eyes again, everything was as confusing as it was before.
"I… What are you going to do?"
"Don't ask. Just give me the antidote so I can do what I need to do."
Thom tensed. That was the catch. "No."
Liam held his hand out, palm up. "You don't want to disagree with me right now. I can turn around and leave you here any time, Mr. Trebond. I'm sure those men in there would be overjoyed to see the Wizard crash their party."
"You wouldn't. You need that antidote."
"Yes, I've been thinking about that. As much as it is a pain in the ass right now, I'm willing to die for a second time. Came back once, didn't I? I could always come back again."
His list of options was short now. Thom debated with himself what would be the wiser choice. Despite having lived and worked in Carthak for years, he was never good at social interaction with the scum of the city's underbelly. He couldn't hope to escape this dark place with his body intact. He'd seen men carrying around guns, drinking and swearing.
They could break him like twig.
Then again, would Liam still refrain from killing Thom once he had the antidote? The hit man could easily kill Thom and steal the Tkaa project on his own, if he was as dangerous as he claimed.
But if that was the case, why had Liam Irons never taken the task upon himself if he had discovered the location of its hiding place? Why did he wait until now, to lure Thom in and use the project's location as a trump card for an antidote that he said he did not even need?
"Politics," Liam spoke.
The violet-eyed man blinked. "What?"
"Mob politics, you could say. Mr. Yukishiro will be very displeased that I interfered, but I feel that this is necessary." An imperceptible shadow crossed his features. "And perhaps I don't care about pleasing him anymore. Perhaps I'd rather pass that job on to someone else."
With those words, Thom completely forgot to ask about Liam reading his mind. Instead, he pressed himself closer up against the wall and wished he could disappear into thin air. His brilliant scheme had backfired and now he was probably going to die.
"Give me the antidote, Mr. Trebond. I promise you'll live."
There's really nothing else to do.
Just trust him. He would have killed you long ago if he meant to do it.
The antidote. Give it to him.
Thom trembled as he reached into his shirt pocket and retrieved the tiny hypodermic needle.
~~
"Now, when we're in there, just act normal and make your way across the room to the computers. I'll talk with the guys in charge. A fight is going to break out. And when it does, the computers will be destroyed and you will push the men guarding it aside and grab the black box. Either jump over the table or slide under it and head toward the door. Your path will be clear."
"How do you know?"
"Because it will be. You wait for me in that place where I hid the body. If you leave, I'll come after you and make your death slow and agonizing."
"I… I understand."
Thom's heart pounded in his chest, each beat like a large drum in his head. He tried to relax and be inconspicuous. He even winked at some women who looked in his direction. When he and Liam had entered the room, the latter had immediately called out something crude in a city accent to eliminate any doubts the men in the room had about them.
It was hard for Thom to believe these men had managed to steal something so important from right under the DJPF's noses. If anything, he believed that the two tired looking men at the computers were the ones responsible. They were skinny and weak. Any man in the room could have intimidated them to do as they said.
Thom's head snapped up when he heard a shout from a few feet away. Liam and another man were arguing. And all of a sudden, Liam shoulder tossed the man in Thom's direction—or more specifically, in the direction of the computers.
At once, the two skinny computer technicians bolted up from their seats and ran. Other men in the room seized them and pinned them to the floor. As the thrown man crashed with the computer equipment and smashed it on the floor, bullets also imbedded themselves into the man and the equipment.
"What are you standing there for?! Get it and run!" Liam shouted. He ducked behind another man and used him as a living shield.
The room was thrown into chaos. In the dim red light, Thom darted forward and picked up the black box, ripping the wires connected to it and ran toward the door. Two women in skimpy dresses lunged for him, but he slid under the table at the last second and crawled out to the other side.
He then came face to face with a man's shiny black shoes. The scientist, scared out of his wits, had the misfortune to look up just in time to see the man take a bullet to the face and fall. He screamed and scrambled to his feet.
"Shit! Oh my—"
"Down! Now!" Liam yelled, firing his gun.
Thom threw himself to the floor again in time to see another man fall. He crawled forward hands and knees with the box under his arm. The sound of firing guns filled his ears as he made his escape. The red light overhead flickered on and off, silently plunging the room into complete darkness.
He refused to even think about the wet warm flesh his hand had just came down upon. Biting back the taste of bile in his mouth, he went on. Thom groped for the doorway. Once outside, the redheaded scientist got up and ran.
Eventually, he returned to the place where Liam had hidden the body. Thom set down the black box and threw off his jacket. He couldn't touch it anymore. He wouldn't. A sensation similar to spiders crawling over his body overtook him. He wiped his bloody hand on the wall, but the red stain remained.
"I can't just let it happen like this. Irons can kill me whenever he wants. He probably will!" he whispered to himself. "Think, Thom. You're supposed to be the smart one. Think of something!"
His world was coming to an end. There was no other way to express it. Here he was, once a famous and revered scientist, awaiting a man who had just killed a lot of people like he was firing at fish in a barrel. Thom would never see his dog again. He would never feel the warmth of a bed again or the satisfaction of a full stomach.
The danger was no longer as attractive as he had arrogantly thought an hour ago. Back then, he'd been drunk on illusions of grandeur. Now the ugliness and stench of reality washed over him like a hangover.
That day, Thom decided that if he survived, he would never do his sister another favor ever again.
~~
Liam found his hostage leaning against the wall under the hanging light bulb. He stopped a few paces short from him and narrowed his eyes.
"Where's the black box?"
Thom let out a deep breath. "I, um, hid it."
"You what?!"
"I hid—"
Liam bridged the gap between them and wrapped his hands around the redhead's neck. Thom clawed at Liam's fingers, trying to free himself. The grip on him only tightened.
"Where is it, Trebond? Tell me or I'm painting this wall behind you with your brand of red," Liam hissed, his nose an inch away from Thom's. He grabbed one of Thom's wrists with a free hand and dragged Thom off of the wall toward the dark space behind the pipes. "Or maybe you'd like to spend time with a new special friend!"
Thom thrashed about, but his only reward was an elbow in the face and again, the two hands around his neck, trying to deprive him of life-nourishing oxygen. He coughed and fell to the ground. Liam drew a new gun from his jacket and pointed it at him.
"The black box, Trebond. Where is it?" he grated.
"Right there," Thom pointed above him.
The hit man tilted his head back. He did not move in time and the box fell from it's frayed wire onto his head, knocking him out. Liam collapsed onto the ground, unconscious. The gun clattered to the ground a foot away.
Without wasting time, Thom picked up the box and hugged it to his chest. He grabbed Liam's gun and tucked it into the waistband of his pants. He didn't know how long Liam would be out, but hopefully, it would be long enough. Then, he got up and retraced his way down the corridor to the alleyway entrance that they had used to enter. The DJPF would come. He'd paged them right before Liam came.
He would wait for the authorities to arrive. Thom imagined that he'd be questioned about why he came to Tusaine. Alanna wouldn't appreciate it if Thom had ratted on her ever-important quest to find out the truth about the unconscious man on the floor. He would just have to make another brilliant lie.
Besides, he was more concerned with the reward he would get for retrieving the Tkaa Project. And then he could rub it all in the department's face and spend the next part of his life gloating like he ought to.
"Because I'm the goddamned bloody Wizard," he muttered sarcastically. "And it's what I do best."
~~
Keladry and Joren walked purposefully down the dark corridor, squeezing past other DJPF officers and Federal agents as they cleaned up the crime scene. When they reached the room at the end with a hazy red light shining out from it, they stopped. Cleon dove out of the doorway, hands over his mouth and looking green in the face.
"Move!" he cried, and shoved past his friends to vomit by the wall. Keladry inwardly grimaced, feeling sorry for him. She turned back to the doorway, but again it was blocked.
"You don't want to go in there," Neal warned, his expression grim. "It's a friggin' slaughterhouse in there."
Joren moved past him and entered, while Keladry stood with Dom.
"What happened?"
He pointed over his shoulder at a group of Federal agents surrounded a familiar man huddled in the middle. "That's what they're trying to get from him."
Keladry frowned. She marched up to the group and elbowed her way through. When her gaze landed upon the interrogated survivor, she gasped.
"Thom?"
Thom looked up. "Oh. Keladry." He seemed embarrassed. "Fancy you being here."
"I live and work here in Tusaine," she said, doubtfully glaring at him. "Unlike you, Thom. What are you doing here?"
The weary scientist/inventor stood up, forcing out a chuckle. He was pale and sweaty. Kel feared that he would collapse from exhaustion if he didn't sit down again. He continued to stand anyway. "I was in town visiting Lalasa, and I decided to go find some 'hip' places to entertain myself. Wrong place at the wrong time, as you can see."
"Oh?"
"Can you please call Lalasa and tell her I'm fine?" he asked, a hopeful smile lighting up his face. Keladry didn't want to say anything, but she had the oddest feeling that he was hiding something from her. She quickly dismissed that thought. From all her experiences wit him, Thom Trebond was a neurotic, eccentric inventor and animal caretaker who needed his sister and a mangy dog to defend him.
What could he have possible done to bring about these events?
~~
When Thom was sure that Keladry's interest was thrown off, he smiled to himself and breathed a sigh of relief. He could rest assured that Keladry would never find out about his breaking and entering or his intention to use her as a threat to Liam.
Keladry faced him again. Her eyebrows rose. "Thom?"
"Yes?"
She leaned forward and squinted at him. "You have a bee sting on your neck. Or… or something. There's a tiny red cut and all this purple swelling around it."
His heart skipped a beat.
"What did you say?"
"I said," Keladry rolled her eyes. "That there's a bee—"
Thom's hands flew to his neck. His mouth opened to form a large 'O'. He breathed in and out quicker than before. There had been no bees anywhere he went. And the sudden pain he felt touching his neck could really have meant only one thing.
"The venom… he…" Thom gulped hard and made a pained sound of shock before he collapsed.
~~
"I wonder what he was talking about," Keladry muttered, folding her arms across her chest. She watched as men in white uniforms exited the building with stretchers and body bags. The ambulance carrying Thom Trebond to the hospital had left long ago. The head of the crime unit had decided to begin questioning him after he recovered.
That left a long time for speculation. She feared the trail would be cold by the time they got an account of the truth.
She looked up as her partner, followed by Neal and Cleon, came out. Cleon still appeared the worse for wear, pale in the face and clutching his stomach.
"Hey, Tough Stuff! We're going to head on home. They don't need us anymore," Neal called. He waved to her while leading the nauseated redhead to their car.
Joren sat down besides her, looking bothered and distracted by his thoughts. Keladry paused. Then she cleared her throat to get his attention.
He blinked. "Yes?"
"Did they find any other witnesses?"
"No. But that doesn't meant there aren't any others."
She remained quiet. She knew he wanted to run to the one person who had all the answers, but he also loathed the very sight of him. Keladry couldn't bring herself to care about it anymore. She was so exhausted by the day's events. Finding a large body count in the back of some nightclub while in broad daylight made no difference to her.
"I think…" Joren began. He stood up.
Keladry shook her head. "No. Stop it."
He turned to look at her, one eyebrow raised in question.
She also stood and glared at him. "This mess is finally over. Things are clear and understood. The Tkaa project has been sent to the authorities and the whole region of Technological Whatevers are doing damage control. Leave it." In a smaller voice, she added, "Let's go home. I'm tired. And you are, too, whether you know it or not."
"I'm always tired."
"I know. And I can't change that, but at least for now—let's go home. Please?"
Joren met her pleading eyes and succumbed. With a face still set in stone, he replied. "For now."
~~
Author: Ta da! After more than a month, I'm back! It's the day after Thanksgiving. It's the weekend before I get my ass kicked for not doing any of my projects for school. It's the couple of weeks before I take the SAT and get something really embarrassing for a score, and it's about a month until CHRISTMAS! (and any other winter holiday that you celebrate, according to religion. ^.^)
I hope you enjoy the episode, despite its focus on Thom rather than our normal cast. But hold on! There's one more to go before the bloopers! And I know how much you guys love bloopers! So email me and send me your blooper suggestions!
Thanks again for reading! Reviewers, rock on!