Golden
He always watched her actions with a certain level of analysis. Maybe it was the fact that he was so naturally manipulative, considering any young woman - even one who had garnered his respect as much as she has - as some form of prey. Attempted to understand, tried to nitpick a person's weakness all for the purpose of using it to his advantage.
She expressed distance from her uncle, despite a hidden level of respect and a little more of fear. But she was always brave-faced - frightening and more openly monstrous than anything he'd ever seen. Creating walls of strength until nobody could see past them, barricaded so well that everything about her just appeared flawlessly hard-edged. Kind of like the glass-like translucence of her hair.
Such an accurate simile, considering her actually inherent delicacy and that she always just waiting to shatter. It was important to know her vulnerabilities as she did with his, so that they stood on level ground instead of one outdoing the other. If he could circle around her like a vulture so could she. He knew about her brokenness from the rest of her family's death; she knew the fact that he had never been whole to begin with, having no family even while they were there at all.
The fact that they used each other's personal weaknesses as defences and weapons spoke about who they were as people. It spoke well of how better suited their partnership was than the one she had with her uncle, as he was disproportionately at a greater advantage than she was. With her uncle, there was fear. With him, there was respect.
He valued her, in a way. Perhaps deep inside where it shouldn't matter anymore, deep in a heart too corroded with cynicism and self-absorption, he valued her. Outwardly, they were fantastic partners-in-crime. She and her uncle did most of the dirty work, he did diplomacy and politics and office work she would have found utterly mind-numbing. Yet it was his arena, where he was as ruthless and manipulative as she was out there in her terrorist acts.
The governance of the different regions of the country was more like an extensive advisory table that the dictator had, rather than actually possessing the ultimate power of the positions within the central. So he had made it an objective to work his way that high up. It would eventually pull him into the close-knit circle of loyal people that the government had. It was necessary to keep increasing his potential to be taken under that classification because then, and only then, did he truly believe he could achieve the takeover.
This was the primary plan. With his fantastic record of only interacting - however cruelly - with only the not so questionable lot of the country, he couldn't actually be seen talking and genially with terrorists against the government. There were limits and only certain reaches. He needed to, as one would say, expand his networking to be more efficient.
So he did. Just one important person was all that was necessary, then he would have all the information that rose from ground level to the higher ups. He needed Charmcaster, so he knew everything there was to be known that was collected by her cultist, extremist group.
It was an invaluable connection.
Sometimes, they were useful for other things too.
"Congressman Morningstar?" the secretary asked in that quivering, uncertain, gauging tone just waiting to be a snivelling, ass-kisser. "I've got a phone call, says it's for you. Doesn't say who he is but says it's important stuff about a suspected rebellion member."
He raised a delicate eyebrow. "There's a local police force that he can call for that sort of information. Unless it has anything to do with passing legislations, that is not within my alley," he remarked in a smooth, subtly mocking tone.
"Sir, apparently it's something you wanna know personally," the secretary continued, but acknowledged the ludicrousness of it with a chuckle. "Something to do with someone working for the government and someone you know, apparently good for your interests in Cabinet. 'Rebel leader' important. It sounds crazy!" The secretary started to make his way back to his desk to hang up on the caller.
After only a few seconds of thought, he decided to stop the secretary though. Might as well entertain the caller, on the rare and unlikely possibility that it might actually be important. "Wait," he called out thoughtfully, to which the secretary turned to the sound. "Put it through my line."
"Are you sure? It looks like just a ridiculous-" The eyebrow was raised again. Always ready to please the secretary just recanted and responded politely with a, "Yes, sir."
Picking up the phone, he put on his most brilliant smile even without the audience face to face. After all, he was ridiculously used to the masquerade. It was quite difficult to simply just play normal instead of be angelic all the time. "Mike Morningstar speaking. To whom am I having the pleasure of this conversation with?"
"Argit," was the simple, abrupt answer.
"Do you have a full name, by any chance?"
"Ya don't need ta know," the caller said equally abruptly, as if that particular query annoyed him. "All ya gotta know is I know something real important you're interested in."
The reserves of curiosity was starting to run low. He was getting the feeling that the person he was speaking with was probably just another homeless street parasite hoping to make a few bucks on so-called information that was actually nothing. "Such as?"
"I know Kevin Levin."
For the duration of the conversation this was the only thing that managed to pique his interest. Now it seemed like they were getting somewhere. Nonetheless: "How do you know I would ever be interested in that name?" he asked in suspicion.
"Heard it through the grapevine," was the ambiguous answer. "And I'm partsa government too. We're almost like neighbors, right?"
There was a vague sound that he produced in his throat in response to express the sentiment of a democratic 'yes' but with a distasteful 'not really' just lagging behind.
"So you interested or not? 'Cause I ain't talkin' 'bout this on the phone," the caller demanded impatiently, as if his time was being wasted instead of the Congressman's.
"Of course," he had replied graciously. "Do you have an address where this meeting can be conducted discreetly? I hope you don't mind the presence of a couple of subordinates. For everyone's safety." He pulled out a small piece of paper from the perfectly arranged pile on his table and a pen from the holder.
After clarifying some of the confusion derived from his eloquence and his caller's lack thereof, the conversation finally ended. Drumming his fingers on the table, he stared at the piece of paper in his hand and the thick documentation of a copy of a bill that was going to be deliberated on in the House of Representatives that same night.
The secretary poked his head in through the door. "Congressman, you have that schedule in ten minutes. Do you need help with that other meeting of yours?"
Again flashing beaming pearly whites, he answered politely, "No, thank you. I have this covered."
After the secretary nodded and closed the door, he made a discreet glance at the location of the camera, stood up and began to meander aimlessly around the room as he dialled a number into his cellphone. The call was picked up almost immediately and now his smile was actually genuine.
"Ms. Charmcaster, it's always such a pleasure to hear your delightful voice."
"I'm not in the mood for playing your little word games, Michael," the hard-edged, husky, feminine voice responded. Ah, she was being put to place by her uncle again because of another adventure to go solo. Considering by the reaction, it didn't go quite so well. But he like her in these moods, so dangerously beautiful and very useful. "What do you want?"
"I have a small request, a favor if you will, to ask of you," he continued with the same silky smooth voice. "A little meeting to be conducted with a rather important informant."
"Why don't you do it yourself?" she asks sardonically, as if it was an obvious course of action that shouldn't even have to be repeated by saying it out loud.
"I'm a bit busy at the moment, some office work that demands too much of my time to do something else. Taxation bills, as usual," he explained. "Not to mention the somewhat stubborn caller is requesting for a rather obscene amount of money for the information and negotiation of this caliber isn't up my alley."
"Why should I care?" He could imagine her looking at her fingernails in dismissal and it brought another smile to his face.
"Because this is personally important information, my dear." He raised the piece of paper to eye level and a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "All of us will be getting a satisfying result at the end of this."
There was a thoughtful pause. "Except maybe the informant," she responded edgily, already undertaking an amused tone suggesting what she was planning to do.
"Ah, it looks like we have come to an agreement," he stated in satisfaction. "Always such a pleasure to speak with you, lovely Charmcaster."
"Not very gentlemanly of you to just contact me about work," she added before he had a chance to finish their conversation. "You're losing your touch, Michael. It's all that dumb paperwork."
"I suppose I am," he responded thoughtfully in an amused tone. Tracing his finger down the paperwork, he decided to add, "I should apologize with an offer for dinner."
He could hear the smirk if he didn't see it. "You should."
Rat
He was a street rat. Skeevy, sneaky, untrustworthy and unsurprisingly, would rat out anybody for the right amount o' dough.
Kevin was his old team, the buddy in crime. Emphasis on was, though. They used to be connected by a strong sense of loyalty exclusively to their selves. Push came to shove, one could rely on the other to make a break for it so the dumber one got left with the stash.
While certain awesome things got legalized- sorta shortening them kind's employment rate actually - there was still very rigid laws on other cool stuff. Simply because that shit was for high and mighty government cronies only to distribute and use. Some crappy drugs made in someone's toilet got the A-OK on the distribution rights thingymajig, while the really hardcore trippy stuff was only for the big guns. Which was unfair so they played Robin Hood of the blackmarket, kinda. With a lot more stealing without giving to the poor and keeping it for themselves. Then firearms distribution was just for the government dudes, which was just way unfair. There was something some old timer said about being free to have guns on your person 'round here back in the good old days, which might've been tripping or for real. But ya gotta fight for freedoms like that, he thought.
They still carried guns, but gotta make sure ya dun go around getting caught 'cause that causes bad shit to happen.
He was a wonderful ass-kisser, which meant being buddies with the System was easy enough if it gave him his just desserts. Take the cake and eat it too sorta thing. So he made friends fast. Kevin, on the other hand, took a while. Too cocky for the ass-kissing until stumbling into some really awesome cash-making opportunities that he wouldn't even be able to dream of. One only did small time outside government supervision. Then he made it work for a really short while. So short he coulda made it into that World Record thing.
Some kid he got into a scuffle with, probably one of those rebel guys - Kevin wasn't talky and only all action about it - cemented his government loyalty for those moments. But it was all that closeness to the System that made him sniff too far into deep shit he didn't need to know about.
Then Kevin got less close, got sneakier and more inquisitive. This crap pissed him off because Kevin even thought to go all unreliable on his good friend, Argit. They was the only guys who knew living on the streets, being bullied around and having some street smarts 'round 'ere, but Kevin blew it.
Now he was loyal to someone other than himself. For a time he didn't even know who it was, and that shit on the face of good business. Because Kevin wasn't about the business much no more. Din't get nothing outta the guy anymore. Nothing useful anyway.
But at some point he got smarter than Kevin. Prolly 'cause the new friends were making the guy dopey too.
A friend of a friend of his in the black market found some guy named Darkstar. He wasn't gonna make fun of the guy's fake name to his face but it was definitely a shit name. Not as shit as his first name, mind, 's why he used his last name. But shit anyway. Dug up the information by means of some buddies on the government and got a good idea he was called Michael Morningstar in the government. He was some guy who wanted some juicy info on his useless old buddy. That meant he knew there was info that he had his hands on that this guy wanted, and now he also had a contact number.
So now they had a meeting.
Terrorist lady Charmcaster acted as the negotiator for the night. He didn't know that was going to be the case and bad luck on him for it. He was carried around by her cultist guards by the ankles and was told to spill or have his still beating heart be offered to some phony imaginary dude in the sky.
He was planning to get stingy and ask for a better price 'cause really, where else would they get better info than from good old Argit? But these bastards played dirty.
His spiky, unkempt hair looked spikier as he was hung upside down. He felt like too much blood was going to his brain and he was starting to feel very lightheaded.
"Can't even think!" he complained, trying to flail to get himself away from the larger, burlier cultists that were with Charmcaster. Instead he just stayed stuck up there lookin stupid and slowly feelin faint.
"Well, you have to try a little bit harder or else we'd be wasting our time here," she remarked in a catty irritating way that still made him pissed even while he was trying to stay alive. "And that would kill you."
"How'd I know ya won't kill me anyway?" he snapped back, still flailing. Which was starting to look bit like a bad idea 'cause he wasn't feeling too swell at the moment.
"You're just going to have to trust us," she stated with a nasty smirk. "So you know Kevin Levin. Personally, I hope?"
Stubbornly, especially now that he knew he wasn't gonna get the bucks he expected from the damn deal in the first place, he retorted, "Who wants ta know?"
The bitch with the platinum hair just nudged her head to the side at her Frankenstein-ugly lookin guard and he was shook until the world was spinning and words were just blurgh. More'n usual. First thought that came to him was he wanted to puke. Hopefully on her.
"Next time, you get to see your guts on the pavement. Don't worry, it'll all be for a good cause," she said smoothly, filled with sharp edges that he was sure was from her pointy, devilish teeth. The tiara stuff was her horns, obviously. 'Cause she was demon spawn, that one. She started playing with some necklace thing with a weird symbol. Probably just cultist crap. "Otherwise you're just going to be another useless scum on the street who isn't even good for getting information from."
"Thought youse was gonna give me money then I talk!" he shouted determinedly, even after all the wanting to puke and faint shit 'cause maybe this time they'd believe it when- The other guy pointed a knife at him. "Okay! Geez! Alright! Yeah! I know lotsa stuff about Kevin, we're friends ya know. Can't we all just be friends?"
"Mhm," the girl just looked bored and impatient. "Go on."
"He's got some transporting duties fer the government. All classified weapons dealing and stuff for military!"
"Tell me something I don't know or we slash your chest open," she said gleefully, a bit more excited with him not knowing shit so she could just kill him. Crazy bitch.
"He's with some chick in the rebellion! Important girl, like a rebel leader or maybe close to that. Something like that!"
"One last warning," she sing-sang.
The knife edged much to close for his comfort and he just flailed more and went crazy trying to pull away. "He got a kid!"
She raised a hand to stop her cultist follower from actually making him into lamb chop. "What?"
"You heard me! A kid! With that girl! And you even know why he's rebel inna first place? The government killed his dad and he's pissed off to high heaven! Lemme down, please!" he blubbered now, 'cause he gotta say he didn't wanna have his heart carved out. Last way he wanted to die. He wanted to die old, fat and rich like all of 'em senators.
"How do I know all of this is real?" she asked finally, crossing her arms like she didn't believe him but she stopped so it was all good. With just that head movement thingy again he was even placed down so he stopped feeling dizzy. He felt like things were finally in place, like his guts wasn't trying to get outta his mouth no more. Glaring at her big bullying guards, practically rock-like in solidness and expression, he mumbled to himself. Where's his money'n all this?
"'Cause you check records, you'll see his dad's one of 'em processed people on the files. And his girlfriend just went poof from cameras like nine months, you'll see. He tells me stuff 'cause I'm his best buddy Argit. 'S why it's all real!"
Then she started to chuckle, then laugh out louder. "Well, this is going to be very interesting. Looks like keeping quiet for a later time's not that important anymore. There's enough information here for someone's promotion." What a crazy bitch she was.
"So do I get my money?" he asked carefully.
She nodded at the dumb, zombie of a cultist follower she had and stuff happened that made everything go dark. When he woke up, he was sleeping beside some gutter the side of a street and he had a big fat black eye. Some military dude was waking him up for being outside on curfew and told that this was just warning this time before he went to jail.
Damn that crazy bitch.
Hush
Backbeat the word is on the street
That the fire in your heart is out…
When he slowly walked into the house, it was dark and silent. Usually he wasn't even there at that time, he would always come in early in the mornings after his work was finally finished.
Then he received a call, garbled and filled with panic. At first he hadn't been able to pick up and there were some thirty calls probably equally as frantic as when he actually finally picked it up. When he did, he was told to go home at that very moment. He was still about to go into a meeting with the boardroom to arrange a possible retrieval mission for a previous senate member that was eventually incarcerated in one of the processing camps. He needed this to be done by another group in the resistance that didn't take his lead directly. Unfortunately, the leader was vocally against him and particularly uncooperative. So he apologized and said work was very pressing at the moment. She hung up the phone.
No other call after that. He went home eventually and now he was standing inside his dark house, finger clicking the light open.
That was when he saw her tiny form shaking. Probably just having just placed the children to bed even though it was a late hour for a two year old and a baby, she finally found the space and time to sit on the couch quietly and have a mental breakdown. She barely cried. This was always surprising for most people but since he had been married to her for a while now, he took notice. Apparently one of those few times she cried was on her parents' funeral. A rare and difficult sight to see. She looked like she was crying.
Carefully, he approached her and kneeled in front of her. "Julie, are you okay?"
Hands still on her face, she muttered coolly in a broken tone, "What do you think?"
"I'm sorry I couldn't be here so quick, I was really busy-"
"You're always busy," she remarked, all icicles and pain. "You're always away God knows where. And for your business?" Finally placing her hands down very slowly, the dark eyes were looking right at him with contempt that wrenched at his heart. "You never have time. Never for family."
"It's not as easy it looks. Not with everything as they are, you know how it is. I really tried to be here," he explained wearily, trying to keep the rest of the words that said: It's not business. It's stability, it's peace, it's freedom, it's country, it's her, it's the kids. Because it wasn't for today, like the rest of the other days before it. He held her hands as she turned her head away from him.
"You didn't try hard enough," she stated flatly, the wavering in her voice somehow leaving to be replaced with something colder, with less emotion. She wouldn't look at him. "Like we don't matter."
"Please just- Just tell me what happened," he begged soothingly, refusing to let go of her hand even while she was already tugging him off.
For a while she just chose to glare at him darkly, eyes rimmed with red from old tears, refusing to speak. Deep inside it was just one other thing that hurt, like everything else he had had to do with his life. "Some agents came by saying that they had an anonymous tip about some stupid accusation of treason." She looked like she was finding it hard to breathe, shoulders shaking again from the fear of recounting the event. He placed his hands on her arms lightly to try and just rub the fear away but she shook him off. Jaw clenched and eyes squeezed shut, he had to let go. "They ransacked the place looking for information. I didn't even know what. I didn't know what to say to them to make them stop."
"They couldn't get anything anyway," he said lamely, still trying to placate her.
"They nearly took the kids!" she snapped, raising her voice for the first time. Then just as immediately, she crumpled into herself and covered her face again. "I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to do." After some time she just repeated this line into a murmur. Dark hair covered her pallid face, nearly as pale as the moon with the shock and the aftermath of fear.
Now past the pain, there was anger of the fact that they would go through his family and they would attempt to take his children in his place. He knew. The last time when there was an investigator in the bar who he had genially dissipated the suspicion, that man had threatened his family. "Look, if I'd known-"
"You didn't answer your phone. How would you know?" she snapped quietly through gritted teeth.
He had to keep this together. Despite everything. No matter how much it was bearing down on him, no matter how exhausted he felt that he just wanted her to understand. He just couldn't always be there. The fact that he was forced to keep his lips shut, for the third important time when he was needed - when his wife competed interstate and he was the only one not there, the birth of his second child, this - was killing him. Just slowly eating away at him. He couldn't tell her. She would understand. But then she'd know and be embroiled. There was less they can do with someone completely innocent. He knew for certain that they would be safer.
Those who kept the secret, it bore down and showed even if they didn't say anything. That was why the recreational drugs were legal so they didn't have to feel anxious because their minds were too fried. They were for those people who wanted to keep their mouths shut for their own good.
He reached out to her, this time refusing to let her go while she tried to weakly tried to push him off. Embracing her tightly in his arms, he tried to even out his own breathing while she was against him. He had to keep it together. Because this wasn't breaking. The one thing left of his life that felt normal. The only stable, good thing left. The home he came to so the world would be shut off for the few moments he could imagine that it wasn't there. Then all he had was home. It wasn't breaking because he was going to keep it together.
"I'm sorry," he murmured into her hair, as she sagged exhaustedly into his chest. "I'm so sorry." He breathed. Once. Twice. "People were there too, at work." Which was true. Not the when but it did happen. "I didn't want to tell you before. I didn't want to worry you. They were asking a lot of questions and I'd just had to give them documents and evidence that I wasn't away doing anything that they were accusing. It was so stupid. I got them to leave eventually." He found himself glaring in the general direction of where a camera was located in that room. Lead settled in his chest, it felt like he was just as deceptive as the kindly, protective government it projected itself as through the media. He was just a liar like the rest of them.
"They left when they found it was a tip for a different house," she continued to explain, her throat sounded raw, her voice scratched. She paused for a moment, trying to gather more strength to speak. "This can't keep happening to us."
Squeezing his eyes shut tighter, he breathed in and out deeply. "I'm so sorry," he replied weakly.
Allowing himself to let her go when he felt the pressure from her hands try to push him off gently. "I can't be alone in this, Ben," she stated; pleaded. Placing both her hands together, she looked up at him with her tear-stained face, puffy eyes and dry lips, she told him quietly, "Please, you have to do better. Please."
"I'll try." And he would. He just wasn't sure it was going to work. The problem was that he was just himself and there was everyone else. If he was forced to choose, everyone else was more important. Maybe if he couldn't keep the home that he wanted then he just couldn't. That was the difficult part to swallow. But he hoped.
And all the roads we have to walk are winding
And all the lights that lead us there are blinding
There are many things that I would like to say to you
But I don't know how.
'Cause maybe you're gonna be the one that saves me.
Mountain of Problems
Ben had problems talking to the elderly leaders of the subsections of the revolution. They were aged in ways that made them difficult to consider compromise. They had set ideas and any new propositions he may give were always met with cynicism and automatic distaste. Which gave him great difficulty especially when he needed their or their underscores' support.
They saw things in simplistic manners that removed elements of human nature - errors, compassion, empathy, survival - as if those didn't exist in their opposition. All they saw were their own personal battles, a focus on their own tragedies, their own hardships and their beliefs without any crack of open-mindedness in their hearts. So they pursued things in ruthlessness that matched - horrifically enough - the actions of the people they were against.
It frustrated him now that he needed their help in getting some agents past the officially blocked international travel. Only the armed forces of the country had pass to leave and return to the country without questioning. He had a plan on coaxing as much help with foreign military and organizations that could tip the scales towards them by using mostly intimidation tactics over employing the brute force that could be implemented with such massive backups. He thought that this could effectively minimize collateral damage and would quickly unseat the government as painlessly as possible. He wanted all of those responsible to face jail time over actual death, which he thought was in itself a lack of justice.
He received an assortment of complaints against him ranging from being 'unpatriotic' to being 'cowardly' to being 'just plain stupid'. It felt like, being in the same room with them, he would be beaten to death by these elderly leaders for even remotely existing. They just thought of him as a hanger-on from their original, more sensible contemporary.
To them, he would always be the more disappointing version of his grandfather, because he handled things differently and in ways they automatically disagreed with. They gave him a chance at the start, thinking he would be his Grandpa Max. Then he opened his mouth.
He still had the same goals, but all this talk of mercy and justice that opposed their idea of justice drove them off the wall. To them, he made no sense. From there on in, any attempts on his part to appeal or compromise with them only exacerbated the situation. He didn't have his wife's patience. And even she had her limits. His nerves were constantly frayed around them and all he wanted was to pursue what they all wanted too. Simply because he had other ideas, it meant he was wrong.
Ben himself had problems with their ruthlessness, the way they handled things that sacrificed their men more often than completely necessary. He'd just stumble into reports of things they'd done out of his jurisdiction or knowledge and a sinking feeling in his stomach would set. But all his attempts to call them out on it pretty much made him even more unlikeable in their minds.
It was just so immensely frustrating. At some point, he excused himself out of the boardroom to literally bang his head on the wall of the corridors. Since they were in a tunnel, he was sure they could hear the physical demonstration of his frustration echoing.
That was when his cousin found him, with his forehead on the wall, while the conversation inside the boardroom continued. She was holding her five year old's hand while staring at her cousin owlishly. The child was looking up at him with big blue eyes that managed to make him even more embarrassed than Gwen's expression.
He snorted at himself.
"Don't worry," Gwen told him reassuringly, slowly. "This isn't the strangest thing I've seen you do."
"Do I wanna know the strangest thing?" he asked warily, standing up a little straighter.
"No, you don't," she responded with finality so he just quietly conceded to it. She looked at the closed door where the meeting was happening. She commented, dripping with sarcasm, "Going well, isn't it?"
"Oh, yeah," he said dryly. "Without a hitch. Perfectly." His tone more serious than before, he continued, "This is going to take a lot longer than I expected. And I don't think we can pull Kevin out from the System yet."
She looked incredulous. "Ben, we talked about this. The longer he stays there, the more danger he'll be in. He doesn't have enough bargaining chips left."
"Yeah, I know," he responded, as calmly as he could which corroded as soon as he continued about the issue. "But this isn't working either and all the other guys we've got aren't as close in the circle or we've pulled them out. Kevin's the only one we've got left."
"You have to keep trying harder with these people, alright?" she said sternly, decisively. "Kevin's quitting after this last mission. They're already trying to investigate him and he can't last for long." She held her son closer, hefting up the child in her hands despite the boy's protests that he wanted to walk. The way she held him looked like she was trying to protect Devlin from someone trying to attack the child. "Try harder."
Scratching his head with both hands forcefully in aggravation, he responded, "I wish I could. These guys, they're like walls!" He waved his hand at the door as if to demonstrate the evidence. "All I'm doing is talking and it just bounces back to me. Everything I say's got something wrong with it and it completely becomes too wrong to even think about. They don't want to listen to me, they're already convinced I'll just fail. I can't try any harder than I already have." He sighed deeply.
"Please, Ben. Don't give up now, there's got to be a way," she insisted, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "Just make them listen. Try to talk them in a way that they'd want to hear what you have to say."
"What, kiss their asses and tell them how stupid I am and how right they are?" he suggested irritably.
"If you have to," she said firmly. "Do it."
"Gwen, that's what I'm trying to avoid!" he complained, squeezing his eyes shut as if trying to convince himself that it wasn't happening. "Giving them the excuse to get away with even more of the crap they pull. Their men are my men too. I'm not letting those guys get away with just throwing them away like sacrificial lambs just to get what they want. The end justifies the means thing of theirs, it's such crap."
"Yeah, I know. It's total bullshit," a deeper male voice added in to the conversation, from behind Gwen.
Gwen immediately tried to cover her son's ears. "Kevin," she hissed. "Language."
"Eh, he's heard worse," the dark-haired taller man said dismissively, shrugging nonchalantly. He approached closer to ruffle his son's jet black hair. "Ain't it right, kiddo?"
"Yep," the boy just said innocently. The response of his mother to the comment was to elbow the boy's father hard on the ribs.
"Ow," Kevin whined as he rubbed on the part that was hit.
Ben just watched the entire scene with a wry smile on his face, thinking about the normalcy of it and the special demonstrations of affection that the family could get away with in their circumstances. Their son wasn't exactly their son when they were talking about him outside of their close circles.
"I can stay with the Pirates of the Caribbean reject if you want," Kevin declared easily, nudging his head at his not-best friend in agreement. "Those whiny old cunts-" Gwen released a sharp breath of irritation as she just fastened her hands even harder around Devlin's ears "-can just keep on doing whatever; you don't need 'em."
"No, Ben. No," his cousin persisted, glaring at Kevin to shut him up, who promptly tried to at least back down to really imply who was boss in the relationship. She returned her attention back to Ben. "You're going to need them eventually. You'll still have to talk to them." She faced the dark-haired man again, who looked like he was giving as much of a sheepish smile as he could pretend to have. "As accurate as the name-calling is, it's not nice. Don't do that. Not in front of Devlin."
"Anything for you, babe," he responded with no sign of irony, as he quickly pecked on her cheek.
"Eww," Devlin reacted, pushing his dad's face off his mom's cheek.
Redirecting his attention from the family to the boardroom door, Ben sighed deeply and placed a hand on his forehead. "I'm wishing I was talking to somebody else. Someone who listens, someone who tries understanding every once in a while. Like Julie."
The older man just snorted, then guffawed at him mockingly. "You freakin' wish, man."
"Supportive, Kevin. Try it," the red-haired woman said dryly.
"By the way, did you get any reports about how the bus went?" the brunette rebellion leader questioned seriously. "I didn't get any messages or calls from Julie. Did Albedo have anything to say?"
"Okay, you're gonna love this, kid," Kevin replied. "First code that got through from your evil twin, he sends like an A-okay. Then next code gets patched through just this afternoon and he says he lost your kids."
Ben's eye twitched. "What?"
"And get this, the location of the bus he has on the first code doesn't match up with Cooper's nav system when he pinpointed where the message was being transmitted," the dark-haired man continued.
"Yes, I even heard Cooper say the navigation system located both codes' sources in the general area of a checkpoint and hasn't been moving very far after two days," Gwen added worriedly.
"What the hell is he doing?" Ben asked the general direction of the air as he scrunched up his eyebrows at it suspiciously.
"He lost your kids," Gwen repeated lowly to herself before looking back up at her cousin. "Last time I saw Albedo, and that may be a long time ago, but he honed stubbornness to a fine art. He can't just have 'lost your kids'. Not if he doesn't want to."
A dark expression slowly but surely settled on the brunette's face, one that made even the two people in front of him who knew him better than anyone, practically step back. It was so unfittingly frightening.
"He did it on purpose," Ben muttered under his breath, so sharply it sounded more like a curse rather than an innocuous sentence. He looked up. "This meeting's postponed for later," he said in a tone so calm and cold, it bordered on mechanical. He looked at Gwen. "The group ready to mobilize? I need them ready to move out in ten minutes." He started walking decisively through the corridors, being flanked on both sides by his cousin and his best friend. "Have Cooper give the group some basic directions on the area and he'll keep us posted for any details later on. I'm going to lead."
"Wait, so do Kevin and I still have to go with this or do we form another group for the other suspected training grounds and move that out?"
"No, you're still going," he said authoritatively, back straight as he walked down the corridor in an uncannily similar stance his brother regularly adorned. "But re-assign Pierce and Alan to the other possible training ground. Call in Tetrax to have him lead that group and quickly rally a few more members for their team. I still need Manny and Helen to stay in this group."
"I'm not sure they're going to agree with not being able to work together," Gwen answered uncertainly. "They're pretty close knit."
"Well, they need to suck it up," Kevin stated coolly, to which Ben simply nudged his head in agreement.
While his red-haired cousin mentioned something about returning Devlin to Lucy before they finally head off, Ben blocked out the rest of any of the other conversations. Instead he focused entirely on the idea that his kids were apparently 'lost' by his brother and that he had absolutely no news on his wife's well-being. Pulling out his cellphone from his pocket, he stared at its suspiciously blank screen, while hoping that he had just missed a call.
As he walked down and passed by the infirmaries, he dialled the number, only to receive a recorded message saying that it was out of coverage area. After a few more attempts, he gave up and squeezed his hand around the phone until it creaked.
Blazing green eyes staring down the direction to where he was about to gear up, all he could think about was if his family was alright. He was caught between his instinct telling him that something was suspicious with his twin's messages and the inherent desire to believe that it wasn't something that his brother could do.
Obsession
What keeps the pressure building?
What takes your breathe away?
The week before the assignment there was nothing to do. It was an exercise of causing most of his brain cells to become apoptotic in disuse. Any equipment and tools provided for him to tinker with were basically handing Lego blocks to an engineer who was aspiring to build a monument. There would be more intelligence required in beating the tar out of his twin brother.
Instead of putting his mind off of the medical tests that he had asked for, the incredible ennui placed it into sharp focus. It was the worst case scenario.
Averting this thought from poisoning his already constantly furious mind, he focused on the documentation in his hand as well as the provided screens. They contained rigged camera recordings that was the feed for government data. It was important for when camera information was changed to destroy evidence or tampered with real-time. It made the prominent members of the rebellion not really disappear under the noses of the government in plain sight.
The important pieces there were recordings as well as real-time feed of his brother's family. He had to observe their reactions to situations, attitudes, their general routines for understanding just in case they were put through the high stress circumstance of a training session. Behavior observation would normally be classified under the level of interest called 'mind numbing to the point of stupor', but he was paying attention to this one somehow.
It was, he would tell himself, primarily because of his brother's mock-worthy life. Seeing his twin make a complete fool of himself on record was precious. Perhaps it even classified as blackmail material. Not to mention how amusingly fraud the scenarios seemed, almost like those pathetic shows on television and theatres. Such a fragile, pathetic thing to watch.
He tried to deter himself from analysing his preoccupation with the young woman who made the horrific mistake of marrying his brother. His sister-in-law now, he supposed. Not that any of his family ever registered in his head as family but more of a permanent nuisance. Only because she was a better sight than his brother, of course. He wasn't completely blind. Nonetheless, there were moments of creeping thoughts that he would call her such ridiculous words as 'fascinating'. Even in his own head, he wasn't really allowing himself that thought.
Being located in the tunnels, with no work, not even allowed to train with the other members because of his 'injuries', he was just stuck with brain-poisoning concepts. What he needed to do was get out, but he had to wait to finally have the documentation he needed to reintegrate. Then he could pursue his own ambitions without the rest of his family or the foolish rebellion dragging him down.
There was something about her smile though. The way she would embrace her children. The way she kissed his idiot brother. The way she would get angry that she turned cold and refused to talk. The way she allowed herself moments of sadness and misery, alone in her room. Her determination. Her weakness.
A few days into the research, that was when he decided that she was very frustrating. Because that was how he felt as he observed her, for no conceivable reason. She just was. As always, it didn't really make him throw his hands in the air and request for a different assignment. Considering things, a reassignment might change the date of his seeing himself out of those tunnels moved further down the calendar. Not to mention, he was too proud to approach his brother again.
There were many questions to be brought up when the superior happened to be inferior intellect than his subordinate but that was how the rebellion functioned. No wonder there was a totalitarian government still in place.
Eventually he had managed to tamper down his pathetic emotionality about the entire thing and conjured the block that distanced him from what he was observing. He was dismissive again. One time during his observations, just coolly noting anything of interest from the previous recording and then placing another storage device, something different from the usual appeared on the screen.
The pen in his hand fell to the desk, clicking as it bounced down the table. Mouth gawking for a time, he allowed that recording to stay for much longer than what was actually right. Finally stopping the damn thing, he tried to swallow as his throat felt dry. Breathing heavily, he stared in incredulity at the currently black screen. He was pretty sure whatever he saw of it was burned into his mind now. His face tried to express more rage about the occurrence than he actually felt.
Somehow he shouldn't be too surprised. She was one of the prominent players in one of the national games that many people profited off from their gambling and betting. She was famous. He had to begrudgingly admit that yes, she was attractive. Someone would have felt inclined, at the very least, especially given an opportunity. Some people were just sick like that. It wasn't as if her husband would be capable of filtering through all of the actions of his rebellion, otherwise whoever kept that in the recordings was going to pay dearly.
Wiping his hand painfully down his face, he tried to suppress the involuntary shudder that ran down his body. Even if his twin wasn't going to kill whoever recorded that, he was going to. Especially now being forced to see it himself.
He was just itching. Itching to get away from his designated quarters, itching to get out of the tunnels, itching to get some chili fries. Running his fingers painfully through his white hair, almost as if attempting to scratch off his scalp, he continued to swallow and get rid of the irritating persistent dryness in his throat. But first, he needed a very cold shower.
I want you to notice
What you've been missing
I want you to feel that,
Feel that deep inside of you.
A/N: Hey, I updated. Whaddyaknow?