A/N: Welcome readers and reviewers! This is actually the second to the last chapter of this short tale, though it will probably sound like the last. You'll see what I mean in the next chapter, it is part of the story, but it probably isn't what you expect. Or maybe it is! It will end on a happier note.
A/N II: This was written through an insomniac's haze and Tormekinz, my female young cat's demanding attention, so please bare with me. I refuse to take the stupid sleeping pills they gave me. I tried them once and they made me feel like crap. I have a hard enough time dealing with this brain without mucking it up with drugs. And now, my stupid dog has just stolen my cupcake. .
Acknowledgements: Ah, my wonderful readers and reviewers, I thank you! My appreciation of you is beyond measure. My gracious reviewers, you are the air that breathes life into this story. You feed my ever-starving muse. For this I respectfully thank you! DibMagician, I thank you! Yess it isss creepy, isn't ittt?!! Grins evilly. The poor professor certainly doesn't have the life of luxury most of the world thinks he has. He doesn't have much of a life at all it seems. Pirate Monkey, Thank you! I know the update wasn't as quickly as you had hoped. (Bubee is back to hogging the computer for SimCity. Again. He needs a new X-Box game badly.) The final chapter should come sooner. It is already almost finished. twisted toaster, I have to thank you for introducing me to "Swoops" the minty ones are my fav. Mmmmm! So deelishuz! And yes, the professor is far, far too young to die, though I fear he won't be trying 'Swoops" anytime soon. Maran Zelde: Thank you! To be honest, I didn't intend this tale to be as violent as it has become. My tales seem to take on lives of their own and sometimes even I'm not sure of where they are going. I fear my muse is a very independent and mysterious creature, with a tendency to lead my stories down strange pathways. Fortunately, the next and final chapter will be torture free, well, mostly. And will provide a glimmer of hope for our beloved, seemingly doomed Professor Membrane. I like to leave things on positive notes. (key word 'like') ceskirby, thank you! I'm cannot say I am sorry about evil cliffhangers of doom. They tend to force people to come back. I am glad you understand about delayed postings. By the way, I think I owe you a few reviews. I owe quite a few reviews actually. So meny reviews. Although I review quicker than I update, it seems I still fall far behind. You people write so meny great and wonderful tales it is hard to keep up. - I will review more soon. Very soon.
WARNING: This will be the last of the 'heavy' warning need. The next chapter will be considerably milder. As for the warnings: just the usual, 3 acts of violence, some 'off camera' death (more assumed than mentioned) and 1 explosion. Again, I still think it falls into the Rated PG –13 but if I'm wrong. PLEASE LET ME KNOW.
Disclaimer: Me? Own Invader Zim? Yeah! IN MY DREAMS!!!
Chapter Six: Night
As I run, I wait for the bullet impact. If I am lucky, it will hit the sweater. The force of the bullet will probably knock me down, and leave a nasty bruise, or in a worse case scenario, even break a bone, but it will not penetrate the skin. If the bullet hits anywhere else, it will do what bullets do. I try not to think of that.
Near panic, I cross the street, almost to be hit by a passing car. The sound of an angry horn and the screech of tires on pavement only serve to heighten my senses.
"Watch where you're going, moron."
Winded, I stop for a second on the other side of the street and look back towards the parking lot. Ignoring the driver's angry glare, I look for pursuers. Finding none, I allow myself a second to relax. After a moment, the driver takes off. I hear him mumble "Stupid Drunk" as he leaves and can't help but smile. I'm not drunk. I'm alive. I'm alive and free.
Alive and Free! Heh! I barely believe it.
A fierce explosion interrupts my sudden revelation.
The bombs. Kabe must have somehow set them off.
I watch in awe as the very building that housed my prison crumbles and burns in a fiery aftermath.
As I watch, I contemplate what I should do. I have been under someone else's control for so long, following their commands that I am almost at a loss as what to do next. My confusion doesn't last long.
WWITS, my prison, they are no more. The burning building tempts me to believe this and I want to, I really do, but deep down, I cannot believe it. Just because someone destroys the building doesn't mean they destroy the organization. I'm free now, and if I want to remain free, I need to leave fast.
I turn my back from the burning building and glance around, trying to find my bearings and decide which way to go. I notice several skyscrapers to my left and decide to walk in the opposite direction. I figure I'll be safer in the suburbs. Less lights, and they won't expect me to head there. I hope.
I don't know exactly how far I have walked, or how long. When I finally pause for a rest I find myself outside a dark and silent elementary skool. Old pains are reemerging as the drug Kabe gave me starts to wear off. Fortunately, the endorphin high created by my newfound freedom keeps me going strong, as does the prospect of finding my children. I don't know where they are, but I know what they look like and I know their names. I will search every city, town, and state until I find them, and if they are not in this country, I will try the next. If I can somehow gain computer access, this task will be considerably easier.
For a moment, I toy with the idea of breaking into the skool and using one of their computers, but as I glance up at the skool, I notice something in the window is watching me, something that reminds me of my old skool teacher Mrs. Bitters. Shuddering I turn from the skool and quickly walk away, entertaining the idea that it was Mrs. Bitters, or her ghost at least. She must have been at least 100 when she was teaching me. Old and filled with dooming prophesies. I was amazed they let her teach us, as old as she was, and so negative. I never met anyone so obsessed with doom and gloom. I quickly walk from the skool, eager to escape the frightening thoughts of Mrs. Bitters' ghost. She frightened me more than even my captors at WWITS do...did.
The endorphin high is finally starting to subside, bringing me down quickly. I notice a small park and make my way there, planning to rest a moment before continuing my journey. My wounds are screaming at me now and I wish I had some type of painkiller to dull them. In a way, I am thankful for the pain. It means I'm still alive. Finding a bench, I sit down and let out a sigh. I listen to the cars rumbling in the distance and look around. Not far from the bench I notice a piece of paper. In the dim light, it looks like money. Curious, I stand up and retrieve it. It is money, five dollars to be exact and as if on cue, my stomache begins to rumble. I again absently wonder what time it is, how long I've been walking.
I think I am far enough away from the WWITS building that it would be safe to find a place and eat. I hope so anyway. Glancing around I notice a few fast food restrauntes on the other side of the park. Krazy Taco, Bloaties Pizza Hog., and behind that, MacMeaties. MacMeaties has been around a long time, and I remember they use to serve meat milkshakes. Since I am not able to eat solid food that well, I figure a meat milkshake will be sufficient. Reluctantly I head towards the foul restraunte, for although I am not partial to drinking frozen pureed meat byproducts, it will provide the necessary nutrients to keep me going.
I decide to cut through the Bloaties parking lot to MacMeaties. Even before I reach the parking lot I smell the greasy odors of pizza. I pause and close my eyes for a moment, relishing the medley of odors. Pepperoni. Sausage. So meny wonderful smells. I glance towards the window, wishing I could eat solid foods with the old grace I use to.
My hatred for my old captors consumes me for a moment before I remember the explosion that signaled their demise. I am free now. I may bare the scares of my imprisonment, but I am free. Yet there are nagging doubts in my mind. I am still unable to fully believe I am free.
My journey towards MacMeaties brings me close to Bloaties, and I glance at the windows as I walk. For a moment I pause and watch as the mechanical monstrosities try to entertain the customers. It seems they frighten them more that amuse them.
With a sigh, I begin to turn away, resolved to purchasing a meat milkshake and subdue my complaining stomache. But as I turn away from Bloaties' windows, a flash of purple catches my eye. Not just any purple, but the very shade of purple that adorns my beautiful Gaz's head.
I turn back and my heart stops. It is Gaz. And Dib. And that monster they call Dad.
'That imposter.'
For a moment my anger flares and I am forced to quell my desire to rush in and rip him limb from limb. Instead I focus my attention towards my children. No one seems to notice me as I stand and watch them. Dib is busy talking, his hands animatedly flinging through the air, helping to punctuate words I cannot hear. Gaz is concentrating on her Pizza, seemingly ignoring him. That foul imposter is ignoring them both as he talks to someone on a portable vid-phone.
I take a deep breath, forcing my anger to a more manageable level. Again I turn my attention towards my children.
Dib stops talking and looks up at me and I find myself frozen with fear and uncertainty. I am so close to the window I am almost touching it with my nose. I don't even remember walking towards it. I watch transfixed as he turns towards Gaz. I shift my eyes towards her. Wide-eyed she stares at me and I find myself lost in their honey-brown depths. In her eyes I read confusion and disbelief. Or at least that is what I think I see. She glances away and I turn my focus towards Dib again.
He is staring at me with something akin to fear. My heart instantly sinks and I tell him that I am his father, his and Gaz's real father. "I love you both so much" I tell him through the window. I know he doesn't hear me, but I want him to know. I want him to know the truth.
Something stings my leg, drawing my attention from my children. Looking down I see a small dart with a red tip and instantly know what has happened.
They have found me. I have let down my guard and they have found me.
I see movement and look up in time to see the imposter motioning to my children to stay where they are. He looks up at me, his expression unreadable behind the goggles and high collar. Looking at my children again he nods to them and takes his leave, heading towards Bloaties' entrance.
My vision begins to blur as I turn back towards my children, trying to burn their image into my mind forever. I cherish the fact that I have actually seen them in person again. They are so much older than I expected.
As I start to loose motor control I whisper to them that I love them. They stare at me wide-eyed, following me even as I sink below the window. I stare up at them as they press their faces against the glass and I smile.
For a moment I had received my prayer. I was free and with my children. Though part of me cries that I have failed to free them, seeing them, healthy and strong, has given me power to face whatever the future holds. Someday this will be more that just a brief glimpse of freedom. Someday this will be forever. I promise, I will somehow make this happen.
As darkness engulfs me, I tell them again that I am their father and that I love them. I tell their unhearing ears never to submit to WWITS.
-
--
---
A loud crack fills the air as a sharp pain erupts on my face. I open my eyes as fire continues to dance on the left side of my face. Harsh light penetrates my eyes, making my head ache even more and I squeeze them shut.
In dismay, I realize that I am tied to a torture frame. Strapped in spread- eagle and upright, the frame allows my captors to torture me on any or all sides without fear of me collapsing when I become unconscious. It is an ingeniously simple, horribly evil restraining device. It is with some relief I find I am still clothed in my underclothes. This indicates that my torture will not be as intense as it has been in the past.
Another slap stings my face, this time, thankfully, on the right side.
"Open your eyes!" comes the demand. "We know you're awake."
Reluctantly I slowly open them, allowing them to get use to the light. Blurred vision tells me that my glasses have been removed, though I can clearly see the face that stands only inches from mine. Magnified squirrelly eyes framed with impossibly small eyewear, a crooked smile, and halitosis great me and I involuntarily let out a gasp of fear.
I was wrong. This torture session will be worse.
I know this face. It is of my primary torturer, the man responsible for most of my pain and suffering, the very one who cut my tongue. They don't use him unless my 'discipline' calls for drastic measures. My fear makes itself know in beads of sweat and uncontrollable shaking. His smile grows as he observes this.
"It's been awhile Membrane." He whispers. "I'm glad you remember me."
He pulls back and I glance around, taking in what I can see of the glaring white room. A blurred group of people stand silently behind my torturer. One of them breaks away from the group and makes its way forward and as its facial features come into view, I recognize it to be Simmons.
"You have had yourself quite an adventure Membrane." He says as he paces before me. "We almost lost you to those Freedom For Technology creeps."
FFT. So that's what it means. I file the information away. It is useless to me now, but perhaps it will be useful in the future.
He stops and looks at me. "You do know that the Freedom in Freedom For Technology doesn't stand for your freedom, don't you?"
I shake my head no, knowing full well the consequences if I fail to respond to his inquiry.
He sighs and begins pacing again.
"The organization known as Freedom For Technology is a low-level group of wannabes." Simmons informs me. "They act as intermediaries in prisoner negotiations between criminal corporations, mostly in the technological criminal sections. This time they were working to free the 'godfather' of the technological criminal organization known as 'Obake' from the England criminal section known as 'World of Tomorrow'.
'Obake' Japanese for 'Ghost', my mind automatically informs me, drawing on old memories of my childhood pen pal from Japan who had been into the paranormal. In a way, he had been very much like Dib.
Simmons stops pacing and comes towards me, breaking me from my memories.
"You were going to be trade-bait." He informs me; leaning so close I can smell his rank coffee breath. "We can't have that now, can we?"
I shake my head no, not really knowing where this is going. I find out all to soon as he steps back and the torturer takes his place.
My eyes widen as they are drawn to a searing red metal brander in my torturer's hand. He smiles at me and tilts it close to my face, showing me the glowing WWITS that make up the brander's head.
"We're going to make sure everyone knows you are ours." Simmons informs me from somewhere behind my torturer. If you ever escape, everyone will know you're ours."
No. Please. NO. I shake my head and practically scream my denial as my torturer disappears somewhere behind me.
A searing pain engulfs my left shoulder and this time I do scream. The smell of burning flesh assaults my nostrils, made worse by the knowledge that it is my flesh. The pain renewed as my new wound is exposed to air. My screams decrease to a whimper and above this I hear a strange hissing sound, like the sound made by an aerosol can. Oddly, the pain in my shoulder subsides.
Standing in front of me, Simmons offers an explanation for this sudden decrease in pain. "We have sprayed you with a antiseptic/disinfectant. We don't want you to miss out on your true punishment, now do we?" His predator's smile sends new shivers down my spine.
Simmons steps back as my torturer returns again to stand in front of me, this time holding a rather large, rather sharp knife. Behind him, I hear Simmons.
"You see," he begins. "You are far to valuable for us to loose. We have worked so hard to obtain your great-great-grandfather that we are not about to loose you to inferior competition. You, your children, you are all property of WWITS. This is your destiny. You cannot change that. You were created to serve us and us alone. We control your every action, your every thought. Your very breath belongs to us. Yet, it is clear that you choose to disobey us. You didn't have to go with FFT. You could have told us of their intentions. Yet you, however, chose to run. Such disobedience is very disconcerting and cannot go unpunished. Because of this, you are forcing us to make sure this never happens again."
Simmons pauses for a moment, and again my torturer disappears from my sight. The silence is almost unbearable.
Simmons indicated to the people behind him. "We argued long and hard concerning your punishment. Some believe we should harvest your children early. With them by your side, you would be less inclined to run. Still others feel we should punish your children for your actions. We know how much you love them and would never wish harm against them."
He pauses to let this sink in.
Horror rushes through my veins. Fear deeper than I have ever felt before. My children. They want to hurt my children.
Simmons laughs as I struggle uselessly in the torture frame, screaming empty threats against him and his family, against all of them and their families. Behind me, my torturer is laughing as well.
I glare past Simmons at the blurry people behind him Expecting, almost daring them to laugh as well. They remain frighteningly silent through all of this and I begin wonder if they really are people, or some sick façade Simmons created to intimidate me. Yet I can see them move. I know they are real. I know they are there.
Simmons waits until I exhaust myself. I fall silent. My voice spent.
"That was quite a show you put on." He smirks. "But no, we aren't going to involve your children. Harming them would be counterproductive. And we will leave them to learn by 'standard' methods. They will be harvested soon enough. As of now, they are more valuable where they are. And safer as well. No one outside of this room even knows they exist. So you don't need to worry that precious head about that. We have decided to hobble you instead."
I gasp as I feel something cut deep into my right ankle, slicing my tendo achillis. With this simple act of mutilation, this simple violation, they win. I will never be able to run again. The simple act of walking will be a challenge. And I know there will be no hope of a walking aid such as a cane. They would never give me something that I could use against them. This was indeed the ultimate torture, the ultimate punishment.
I hang my head in defeat. I have failed my children. There is nothing I can do to prevent this fate. I want to die.
Simmons lifts my head, forcing me to look at him.
"By the way Professor," He smiles at me, as if reading my thoughts, "If you die, one of your children will die with you. After all, we only need one. So don't even think about it. And if you disobey us, well, we could always change our mind about harvesting your children. Your little girl is quite a gem, isn't she?"
I hear his threats and know he means them.
"What will you do, Professor Membrane?" Simmons leans very close to me. "Tell me what you will do."
"I wiw obey." I whisper, blinking at him through tears of pain, shame and defeat.
I watch as Simmons moves aside so my torturer can stick a needle in my arm.
As my conscious surrenders to darkness I make one last silent vow. I will obey, but I will do it on my terms.
I will destroy the monster from the inside.