Still in no-net land, or was at the start of this chapter. The situation changed midway
through, as the onlineness of the chapter would suggest. Guess that's all for now.
Disclaimer: Spider-man doesn't get good connection speeds despite what you'd think.
Rise of the Silver Stars
Chapter 8: Bad to Worse at Bernardelli
First things first. The small apartment she kept in town was the ideal place to freshen up prior to going to the main office. However, the door wouldn't open, calling for repair procedure #1. A good solid shoulder slam later, she was inside among the massive pile of mail that had built up over the months. She poked at it idly- first notice, second notice, first notice, past due, pay up or your kneecaps are ours... That last one may be worth reading after her main business was finished. However, right now, her business was all about preparing for her main business, and that meant the bed. The steamer had pulled in as the suns set, and by the time she had made it across the city the streetlights were all the illumination left. It was clearly bedtime for all sane people.
Left side. No good. Right side. No good. Back, belly... No and no. Sleep was being more elusive than normal tonight. She put it down as a case of nerves. It was still quite odd- this was her bed, in her room, and instead of dropping right asleep she was instead staring at her ceiling. Maybe a change of view would help. She got up and truged about the apartment. As she did, something emerged. The kitchen was well stocked, the bed had been neatly made, the bathroom was clean, and the closet had all the supplies she required. However, there was nothing to indicate that it was a home. No pictures, no knickknacks, not even a favorite coffee mug. It was a great place to rest and do work, but not to live. It was funny how she hadn't noticed that before... Tomorrow, she'd get something to spruce it up. But for now... Sleep came before gravity finished placing her on the bed.
¤ ¤ ¤
The office building loomed overhead. She was positive that it hadn't been this tall when she left. It was probably an aftereffect from running around so many small burgs, coming back to one of the great cities made it seem all the more grand. It was rather busy all in all, the constant hustle of people coming and going generating a din. The snippets of conversation she picked up weren't encouraging. There was a tremendous interest in life insurance among the people streaming in and out, among talk of entire town populations simply vanishing into thin air. It was old news to her, and the cause had been dealt with. Well, it was being dealt with- hopefully Milly was keeping tabs on Knives, and Knives was still on holiday from destruction and chaos. Somehow, she doubted it would make any of the bustle go away if they knew. She slipped into the flow and made it past the sales area to inform the personnel receptionist that she had arrived, then zipped up two flights of stairs to the employee lockers. She was changed and out in under three minutes, enjoying the relative lightness of the company uniform. It was a bit unsettling to be without the familiar weight of her derringers, but that was why the company had armed guards down below.
A few twists and turns later, the door to the claims office stood before her. She could hear a lot of talk going on behind the door- looks like downstairs wasn't the only place busy these days. She gave the handle a good crank and entered. The noise level dropped dramatically as eyes wandered over to her. The boss was outside his office and appeared quite impatient, so she slipped on over. As she passed her co-workers, she heard whispering and felt every eye in the place looking at her while trying not to look at her.
"...looks all right..."
"...do you think he..."
"...heard she joined..."
"...still sane?"
By the time she made it across the room, she had quite enough of it. Turning, she got the entire place in a glare.
"Don't you have work to do?!"
The entire room jumped at that, and started to frantically make themselves busy. They were still casting glances her way. If they didn't get the real story from listening against the door, they'd get it from her own mouth when she told the lot of them off afterward. Turning in a huff, she stormed into her boss's office and almost bowled over Mr. Bernardelli himself.
"We need to talk Ms. Stryfe."
She gulped and plastered on a smile. "H-hello Mr. Bernardelli. I didn't expect to see you for this..."
"I felt a need to be here in person. This is hardly a normal situation. Please, have a seat."
She took the seat he gestured at. He then tapped a book- the book -that was lying on the desk. "So, Ms. Stryfe, from what you know... How much of this is true?"
"Well, I haven't actually read it myself, but from what I know of the author it would be nothing less than the full and complete truth."
"I see..." He walked over to the window and gazed out at the street below, and then up at the sky. "You've always been a very good field agent. Spot on assessments, an ability to practically smell fraud, and some of the most orderly reports to ever cross my desk. You're in the running to be the next VP of Training, did you know?"
"WHAT?!" The exclamation was echoed by at least two other voices outside. Now she was really feeling frazzled, as was whoever was eavesdropping. Her, a vice-president in the company? Milly kept saying that they would probably get promotions for their work, but this was far and above anything she had dreamed.
"The entire assignment to follow and limit damages caused by Vash the Stampede was simply an elaborate test. We paired you with a... how should I put this... 'marginal' employee, to see if you could get them to improve. We never thought-"
"Milly was just a test for me?! I thought she was supposed to provide key assistance for the assignment!"
"Well, yes. You actually worked a miracle with that girl- she's writing average reports now. Still a bit simplistic and gullible, but she's become good enough to merit her own assignments which was far beyond anything we had expected from her. But I digress."
This was definitely a mixed pill to swallow. She thought Milly was there as added muscle to create a well rounded team, not a Thomas to teach tricks. These people had no idea just what that girl could do. "'Marginal' employee, pfft. She's damn good, and now I'll have to hurt you for saying otherwise." However, she was still in the hotseat, and bit her tongue to avoid tossing more gas on the fire.
"We never meant for you to actually catch up with the Humanoid Typhoon, much less make contact. I'm afraid you've paid the price for our misjudgment of your abilities. Ever since you met him, your reports have become increasingly erratic."
"Erratic? I'm afraid I don't follow, I've been reporting as normal-"
"You've been reporting fantasy, just as much as this book is. Walking one hundred thirty plus year old plants, a twin brother that just happens to be the real cause of all this grief, a cadre of brutal assassins that were the actual killers. It's unbelievable! The only part that seems remotely possible is the mental abilities mentioned, which actually explains everything else. Insert a false memory here, create a seeming real illusion inside a mind-"
"NO!" She bolted out of the chair. "Vash would never do that! There's no way he would toy with anyone's memories like that!" Tears began to well up.
"Can you be sure? How would you know if your memories were tampered with? How could you know that he hasn't been in your head?"
"I..." How could she explain? She sank back into the chair as she tried to find the words. "I just know that he's really a good man... There's too much beauty in his mind for him to be anything else..."
"In his mind? You mean that he has used mental connections on you?"
Her gaze shot to the company president's face. "It's not what you think! I had to learn how to guard myself from his brother! That's the only reason he made the connection!"
"What I think is actually irrelevant at this point... but you may have just saved yourself. Thanks to a few recent discoveries on telepathy combined with your own admission, we may be able to get you out of this mess. However, right now there's not much I can do. I'm very sorry Ms. Stryfe."
This was all wrong. Vash was a good man- plant- whatever! How could they stand there and condemn him without ever meeting him? Her mouth opened and closed, but what could she say? They thought she had not only been brainwashed, but dried, pressed, folded, and placed in the Humanoid Typhoon's clothes drawer. She just dropped her head in her hands. She felt one huge headache coming on, and it appeared that the day was still before noon. She heard the door open, so she plastered on the best stoic expression she could manage though she was falling apart inside.
A face she didn't recognize entered the office. He looked very grim, an effect made more pronounced by the sidearm he had, the two other men with sidearms that stood in the doorway, and the shiny sheriff's badge on his vest. One of them looked scared out of his boots, and the other looked... murderous. What was a sheriff doing here with men like that?
"Ms. Meryl Stryfe?" His voice was neutral.
"Yes?"
He held up a paper. She could see the official seals easily enough, and was actually quite familiar with what those seals meant- it was an arrest warrant. "By the authority of the Gunsmoke Justice Department, I am placing you under arrest on charges of conspiracy, obstruction of justice, aiding and abetting a known criminal, murder, and a high crime against humanity- genocide. You have the right to remain silent, anything..."
She didn't hear the rest of what he said. The blood in her veins was running ice cold. Breathing was taking far too much effort. What was happening? Why was this happening? A hand on her shoulder brought her back to reality. Mr. Bernardelli was looking at her with a bare hint of a smile- A pity smile. She didn't want that. She hadn't done anything to deserve that...
"Don't worry Meryl. We'll have the very best lawyers and psychologists to get you through this. The charges are mostly hearsay anyway. Bernardelli always looks after its own, though right now it's out of my hands. Just hang in there."
"Mr. Bernardelli, I have a job to do, so please stand back. Ms. Stryfe, stand up slowly and face the wall."
She did as she was told, moving like a marionette. There wasn't anything she could do, really. She was unarmed, and these were lawmen. Outlaws she could fight, but this was the law. The patdown was fast, then they moved her arms behind her and she heard the clicks of handcuffs snapping shut. She couldn't feel a thing anymore, and when she tried to walk her legs buckled underneath her. The lawmen had to pick her up and haul her off by the shoulders. Focusing everything she had, she forced her legs to work again- she would walk out under her own power to maintain at least some dignity. Everything was hard to do- she must look like a zombie to everyone. Her eyes blankly flitted over the main claims room- everyone was frozen in place, looking at her somehow even if they were faced the wrong way. Fear, anger, pity... Why did they look at her that way? They were co-workers, several were good friends... So why did they look at her like that?
¤ ¤ ¤
The whole place smelled of cement dust. The harsh unshaded lights above burned like the suns against her clammy skin, in the few places that weren't covered by the black and white striped prison jumpsuit. The echos of footsteps made a horrible din, like a room full of clocks with no way to get out. Only her escorts made the noise- they hadn't let her wear any shoes. All she had was the jumpsuit and a small bundle of cloth clutched in her hands- her assigned bedsheet. They were leading her down a corridor in the maximum security wing of the December prison and cold sleep confinement complex. The two wardens that flanked her kept a vigilant watch as they moved deeper into the building. They finally stopped in front of a heavy metal door that one of her escorts tugged open.
"Inside."
She mutely walked in, and the door clanged shut behind her. The echo died down quickly in the tiny cell. There was a bunk, a toilet, a faucet, and another harsh light in the ceiling. It appeared to be completely welded shut aside from the door and a small vent therein. She heard the footsteps depart, getting farther and farther away, until another clang signaled the exit of the posse. The silence was beating down on her. She was finally alone, and allowed herself to slump against the door, then slide to the floor. The tears she had been holding back for seeming ages were finally allowed to spill. She sobbed silently into the bedsheet, only making a sound when she gasped for air, until sleep took her away from her troubles, to the barren embrace of blissful unknowing.
...dang, I'm hellah depressed now. Poor Meryl. Not even Mr. T and Optimus Prime bobbleheads could rip me out of this funk. Guess I'll just have to sleep it off.
Knives: You know, this is a perfect example of why humans are such despicable creatures.
Hey! No breaking of the fourth wall! Get back in there, you're not even supposed to be in this chapter!
Wolfwood: Yeah, well, he's not good at following rules.
And you're not to be appearing at all! Get back in your grave! Don't make me use the stick!
Reviewer Responses
Yma: Whoo-hoo! I'm flattered, it's not every day that someone adds me to a favorites list (think the name has anything to do with it? Nah...)
coffeetin: Well, there's Bernardelli, and things didn't exactly go over well. I do try and get the small touches in, they seem to provide the best parts in my writing, and they have a tendency to grow and expand.
Luna-Kitsune-Blu: Yep, can't trust those voices farther than you can throw them, and I'd say that it smells like roses.
SapphireWhiteTigress: Oh yeah, it's interesting. Expect to see a lot of it, and a few quotes from it (Hint: You should already know a lot of the quotes. Vash's words -)
Sorian: I somehow doubt that opinion will change after this chapter. What can I say? Guess I'm just good at evil >:)
Disclaimer: Spider-man doesn't get good connection speeds despite what you'd think.
Chapter 8: Bad to Worse at Bernardelli
First things first. The small apartment she kept in town was the ideal place to freshen up prior to going to the main office. However, the door wouldn't open, calling for repair procedure #1. A good solid shoulder slam later, she was inside among the massive pile of mail that had built up over the months. She poked at it idly- first notice, second notice, first notice, past due, pay up or your kneecaps are ours... That last one may be worth reading after her main business was finished. However, right now, her business was all about preparing for her main business, and that meant the bed. The steamer had pulled in as the suns set, and by the time she had made it across the city the streetlights were all the illumination left. It was clearly bedtime for all sane people.
Left side. No good. Right side. No good. Back, belly... No and no. Sleep was being more elusive than normal tonight. She put it down as a case of nerves. It was still quite odd- this was her bed, in her room, and instead of dropping right asleep she was instead staring at her ceiling. Maybe a change of view would help. She got up and truged about the apartment. As she did, something emerged. The kitchen was well stocked, the bed had been neatly made, the bathroom was clean, and the closet had all the supplies she required. However, there was nothing to indicate that it was a home. No pictures, no knickknacks, not even a favorite coffee mug. It was a great place to rest and do work, but not to live. It was funny how she hadn't noticed that before... Tomorrow, she'd get something to spruce it up. But for now... Sleep came before gravity finished placing her on the bed.
The office building loomed overhead. She was positive that it hadn't been this tall when she left. It was probably an aftereffect from running around so many small burgs, coming back to one of the great cities made it seem all the more grand. It was rather busy all in all, the constant hustle of people coming and going generating a din. The snippets of conversation she picked up weren't encouraging. There was a tremendous interest in life insurance among the people streaming in and out, among talk of entire town populations simply vanishing into thin air. It was old news to her, and the cause had been dealt with. Well, it was being dealt with- hopefully Milly was keeping tabs on Knives, and Knives was still on holiday from destruction and chaos. Somehow, she doubted it would make any of the bustle go away if they knew. She slipped into the flow and made it past the sales area to inform the personnel receptionist that she had arrived, then zipped up two flights of stairs to the employee lockers. She was changed and out in under three minutes, enjoying the relative lightness of the company uniform. It was a bit unsettling to be without the familiar weight of her derringers, but that was why the company had armed guards down below.
A few twists and turns later, the door to the claims office stood before her. She could hear a lot of talk going on behind the door- looks like downstairs wasn't the only place busy these days. She gave the handle a good crank and entered. The noise level dropped dramatically as eyes wandered over to her. The boss was outside his office and appeared quite impatient, so she slipped on over. As she passed her co-workers, she heard whispering and felt every eye in the place looking at her while trying not to look at her.
"...looks all right..."
"...do you think he..."
"...heard she joined..."
"...still sane?"
By the time she made it across the room, she had quite enough of it. Turning, she got the entire place in a glare.
"Don't you have work to do?!"
The entire room jumped at that, and started to frantically make themselves busy. They were still casting glances her way. If they didn't get the real story from listening against the door, they'd get it from her own mouth when she told the lot of them off afterward. Turning in a huff, she stormed into her boss's office and almost bowled over Mr. Bernardelli himself.
"We need to talk Ms. Stryfe."
She gulped and plastered on a smile. "H-hello Mr. Bernardelli. I didn't expect to see you for this..."
"I felt a need to be here in person. This is hardly a normal situation. Please, have a seat."
She took the seat he gestured at. He then tapped a book- the book -that was lying on the desk. "So, Ms. Stryfe, from what you know... How much of this is true?"
"Well, I haven't actually read it myself, but from what I know of the author it would be nothing less than the full and complete truth."
"I see..." He walked over to the window and gazed out at the street below, and then up at the sky. "You've always been a very good field agent. Spot on assessments, an ability to practically smell fraud, and some of the most orderly reports to ever cross my desk. You're in the running to be the next VP of Training, did you know?"
"WHAT?!" The exclamation was echoed by at least two other voices outside. Now she was really feeling frazzled, as was whoever was eavesdropping. Her, a vice-president in the company? Milly kept saying that they would probably get promotions for their work, but this was far and above anything she had dreamed.
"The entire assignment to follow and limit damages caused by Vash the Stampede was simply an elaborate test. We paired you with a... how should I put this... 'marginal' employee, to see if you could get them to improve. We never thought-"
"Milly was just a test for me?! I thought she was supposed to provide key assistance for the assignment!"
"Well, yes. You actually worked a miracle with that girl- she's writing average reports now. Still a bit simplistic and gullible, but she's become good enough to merit her own assignments which was far beyond anything we had expected from her. But I digress."
This was definitely a mixed pill to swallow. She thought Milly was there as added muscle to create a well rounded team, not a Thomas to teach tricks. These people had no idea just what that girl could do. "'Marginal' employee, pfft. She's damn good, and now I'll have to hurt you for saying otherwise." However, she was still in the hotseat, and bit her tongue to avoid tossing more gas on the fire.
"We never meant for you to actually catch up with the Humanoid Typhoon, much less make contact. I'm afraid you've paid the price for our misjudgment of your abilities. Ever since you met him, your reports have become increasingly erratic."
"Erratic? I'm afraid I don't follow, I've been reporting as normal-"
"You've been reporting fantasy, just as much as this book is. Walking one hundred thirty plus year old plants, a twin brother that just happens to be the real cause of all this grief, a cadre of brutal assassins that were the actual killers. It's unbelievable! The only part that seems remotely possible is the mental abilities mentioned, which actually explains everything else. Insert a false memory here, create a seeming real illusion inside a mind-"
"NO!" She bolted out of the chair. "Vash would never do that! There's no way he would toy with anyone's memories like that!" Tears began to well up.
"Can you be sure? How would you know if your memories were tampered with? How could you know that he hasn't been in your head?"
"I..." How could she explain? She sank back into the chair as she tried to find the words. "I just know that he's really a good man... There's too much beauty in his mind for him to be anything else..."
"In his mind? You mean that he has used mental connections on you?"
Her gaze shot to the company president's face. "It's not what you think! I had to learn how to guard myself from his brother! That's the only reason he made the connection!"
"What I think is actually irrelevant at this point... but you may have just saved yourself. Thanks to a few recent discoveries on telepathy combined with your own admission, we may be able to get you out of this mess. However, right now there's not much I can do. I'm very sorry Ms. Stryfe."
This was all wrong. Vash was a good man- plant- whatever! How could they stand there and condemn him without ever meeting him? Her mouth opened and closed, but what could she say? They thought she had not only been brainwashed, but dried, pressed, folded, and placed in the Humanoid Typhoon's clothes drawer. She just dropped her head in her hands. She felt one huge headache coming on, and it appeared that the day was still before noon. She heard the door open, so she plastered on the best stoic expression she could manage though she was falling apart inside.
A face she didn't recognize entered the office. He looked very grim, an effect made more pronounced by the sidearm he had, the two other men with sidearms that stood in the doorway, and the shiny sheriff's badge on his vest. One of them looked scared out of his boots, and the other looked... murderous. What was a sheriff doing here with men like that?
"Ms. Meryl Stryfe?" His voice was neutral.
"Yes?"
He held up a paper. She could see the official seals easily enough, and was actually quite familiar with what those seals meant- it was an arrest warrant. "By the authority of the Gunsmoke Justice Department, I am placing you under arrest on charges of conspiracy, obstruction of justice, aiding and abetting a known criminal, murder, and a high crime against humanity- genocide. You have the right to remain silent, anything..."
She didn't hear the rest of what he said. The blood in her veins was running ice cold. Breathing was taking far too much effort. What was happening? Why was this happening? A hand on her shoulder brought her back to reality. Mr. Bernardelli was looking at her with a bare hint of a smile- A pity smile. She didn't want that. She hadn't done anything to deserve that...
"Don't worry Meryl. We'll have the very best lawyers and psychologists to get you through this. The charges are mostly hearsay anyway. Bernardelli always looks after its own, though right now it's out of my hands. Just hang in there."
"Mr. Bernardelli, I have a job to do, so please stand back. Ms. Stryfe, stand up slowly and face the wall."
She did as she was told, moving like a marionette. There wasn't anything she could do, really. She was unarmed, and these were lawmen. Outlaws she could fight, but this was the law. The patdown was fast, then they moved her arms behind her and she heard the clicks of handcuffs snapping shut. She couldn't feel a thing anymore, and when she tried to walk her legs buckled underneath her. The lawmen had to pick her up and haul her off by the shoulders. Focusing everything she had, she forced her legs to work again- she would walk out under her own power to maintain at least some dignity. Everything was hard to do- she must look like a zombie to everyone. Her eyes blankly flitted over the main claims room- everyone was frozen in place, looking at her somehow even if they were faced the wrong way. Fear, anger, pity... Why did they look at her that way? They were co-workers, several were good friends... So why did they look at her like that?
The whole place smelled of cement dust. The harsh unshaded lights above burned like the suns against her clammy skin, in the few places that weren't covered by the black and white striped prison jumpsuit. The echos of footsteps made a horrible din, like a room full of clocks with no way to get out. Only her escorts made the noise- they hadn't let her wear any shoes. All she had was the jumpsuit and a small bundle of cloth clutched in her hands- her assigned bedsheet. They were leading her down a corridor in the maximum security wing of the December prison and cold sleep confinement complex. The two wardens that flanked her kept a vigilant watch as they moved deeper into the building. They finally stopped in front of a heavy metal door that one of her escorts tugged open.
"Inside."
She mutely walked in, and the door clanged shut behind her. The echo died down quickly in the tiny cell. There was a bunk, a toilet, a faucet, and another harsh light in the ceiling. It appeared to be completely welded shut aside from the door and a small vent therein. She heard the footsteps depart, getting farther and farther away, until another clang signaled the exit of the posse. The silence was beating down on her. She was finally alone, and allowed herself to slump against the door, then slide to the floor. The tears she had been holding back for seeming ages were finally allowed to spill. She sobbed silently into the bedsheet, only making a sound when she gasped for air, until sleep took her away from her troubles, to the barren embrace of blissful unknowing.
...dang, I'm hellah depressed now. Poor Meryl. Not even Mr. T and Optimus Prime bobbleheads could rip me out of this funk. Guess I'll just have to sleep it off.
Knives: You know, this is a perfect example of why humans are such despicable creatures.
Hey! No breaking of the fourth wall! Get back in there, you're not even supposed to be in this chapter!
Wolfwood: Yeah, well, he's not good at following rules.
And you're not to be appearing at all! Get back in your grave! Don't make me use the stick!
Yma: Whoo-hoo! I'm flattered, it's not every day that someone adds me to a favorites list (think the name has anything to do with it? Nah...)
coffeetin: Well, there's Bernardelli, and things didn't exactly go over well. I do try and get the small touches in, they seem to provide the best parts in my writing, and they have a tendency to grow and expand.
Luna-Kitsune-Blu: Yep, can't trust those voices farther than you can throw them, and I'd say that it smells like roses.
SapphireWhiteTigress: Oh yeah, it's interesting. Expect to see a lot of it, and a few quotes from it (Hint: You should already know a lot of the quotes. Vash's words -)
Sorian: I somehow doubt that opinion will change after this chapter. What can I say? Guess I'm just good at evil >:)