Like nuAMC, this alt-AMC will be taking a bit of a hiatus. No dramatic backstage happenings to report, other than my oddball habit of writing from the end backwards and generally just hopping and skipping all around story-wise once I reach a certain point. I will continue to write during the break - I just won't be posting until I've conquered this chaotic beast. Once I've hit that milestone, I'll post all of the chapters at once, or at least within a few days of each other (think of it as a binge-post : )
I'm estimating I can finish this up around October; so, if all goes well, see you then!
In the meantime, some not-so-nice people have come out to play in PV, and they've got a plan...
####
"Hey, wait!"
"I don't wanna talk now."
"Then why'd you come here after I texted you, and how'd you get out anyway?"
"I'm not telling you. And I'm here because I was bored."
"Yeah, right. Come on, I had to sneak past the sitter and everything. Ive gotta show you something."
"What? Your braces?"
"No, that's so not important now." The girl gave an exasperated hair flip that was too reminiscent of her not-so-dear grandmother. She took a carefully folded stack of papers from her backpack and handed them to the boy.
Dear heavens, children were so…banal. Fought over, fawned over - but they could, on occasion, serve a useful purpose.
The brat watched her little boyfriend expectantly, arms crossed. A spitting-image miniature terror, indeed. The boy, on the other hand, had clearly benefitted from none of his family's finer traits. His blond hair and fair features practically 'dripped' with the influence of that drunken lout and his hillbilly bride – the latter of whom was a definitive stain in her family's bloodline.
The boy pushed his hair from his eyes, which were unreadable from this distance. "I don't get it," he said.
His cohort held up four fingers. "Short version: I used to live at your house, you used to live in Llanview.; we used to have really crappy names; and we both used to be dead." She paused for dramatic effect. "We're like a movie!"
Well, the brat did have a certain way with words.
The boy did not quite see things in the same manner. He threw the papers to the ground and kicked them for good measure. "They lie. They lie about everything!"
Others with potential had allowed useless factors such as sentimentality to hinder them, and they were beyond salvation. She herself had fallen prey a few times. But the boy could be taught. He could fulfill his legacy.
Right now, however, he was giving in to that sentimentality - and to the next generation of Kane manipulation. The poor wretch would have to be set right on certain matters of decorum.
"What's wrong?" He had a hand on the unresponsive brat's shoulder. She was hunching on the ground, all propriety forgotten, apparently fixated on a stray paper that had separated from the rest.
The boy at last did her proud by not offering or succumbing to an embrace. Rather, he rose, hoisted his full backpack further on his shoulders, and extended his hand. "I'm getting out of here. Wanna go with me?"
Before the girl could answer, another voice had summoned them. "Hey AJ, what are you doing out here?" She couldn't distinguish the new boy's features, but he did present a potentially unwanted complication.
At times, the esteemed townsfolk made her duties just a bit too trying. Nevertheless, she would adapt.
The wise words of her misunderstood Niccolo inspired her: Entrepreneurs are simply those who understand that there is little difference between obstacle and opportunity and are able to turn both to their advantage.
It was time.
Vanessa emerged from the shadows. She scanned the area before approaching the children, smiling down at mismatched sets of eyes. Some were wide; others, narrow. Too narrow.
"Excuse me, but have seen my dear little poochie? She seems to have gotten away from me." She turned her attention to AJ. "I'm Nessie, by the way," she said, introducing herself to her grandson or the first time.
####
The young man clearly wished to engage in conversation, so he obliged. He was nothing if not a gentleman.
Their shared circumstances – he spared a bemused glance for the matching steel chairs and the complementary steel chains that accompanied them – merited a bond of sorts, after all, did it not?
In fact, he would venture to say he and this young man had quite a bit in common.
"At least we received the finest amenities." His chains rattled ever so slightly as he motioned toward the wire mesh that served as their window.
His companion had temporarily forsaken his manners, but given the most unfortunate circumstances, he could be pardoned.
"Sir, if you would like to present me with a question, then please do. I am a most captive audience."
The admittedly trite attempt at humor had at best cured the young man of his affinity for staring. He shook his head. "Do I know you?" he asked.
This unexpected question invoked a small smile. The wonders of a pair of scissors and a nice shave were truly beyond measure. "I think not, but don't we all know each other to some degree?" he observed. "Please pardon my directness, but I am rather curious." He spared another glance to his companion's useless legs. "How did your injury occur?"
He, of course, knew the answer, but he would quite enjoy a few lively details. It would enrich this rather tedious journey.
"I was shot."
Three uninspired words. Really, the boy lacked imagination. Yet what could one expect from an individual so prone to the basest impulses? So very malleable.
"I as well." The delicious irony. "I am being transferred to a facility more...accommodating to my needs. And you?"
The young man finally indulged an admittedly charming smirk. It demonstrated potential - potential that had been tragically misplaced in the past. "By tomorrow, I'll be wheeled in front of the state Congress, so I can wax poetic about the evils of guns." The wonderful flash of potential was unceremoniously displaced by an aversion of the eyes: a maddening sign of weakness.
"I have always been fascinated - perhaps captivated - by the use of a firearm. It is said to be the instrument of the cold and the efficient, but I find it most personal. Poison - poison has its intimacy, but, with just one well-placed bullet..." He could not move closer, but he had discovered that changing his voice just so had a much-matched effect. "Tell me, Mr. Chandler, how did it feel to have all of those lives in the grip of your hand – and to crush them all in one defining moment?" His voice dipped again at the final word, to a whisper.
And everything – oh, how every particle in the air – sizzled gloriously. The boy's widening eyes, they were most glorious of all.
That moment…
Unfortunately, the necessary business outside rattled that moment. Greedily claimed it.
"What the hell?" Those wide eyes now moved all about. What should have been an interesting epiphany instead devolved into a base formality.
Alexander sighed, settling into his chair as the vehicle first jerked, then rolled to a smooth stop. The efficient pops also ceased.
The door swung open moments later, and he greeted his charges with a smile. They would be most fittingly rewarded for a job well done. When one of the eager lads raised his rifle to the junior Chandler, Alexander raised a hand. The lad immediately stood down.
"That will not be necessary. Mr. Chandler and I have gotten along quite well. He is a fascinating companion. And he, more than any other, can appreciate the necessity of a good firearm." He took the key from his charge and unlocked his restraints. Then he did the same for Mr. Chandler.
The boy finally recovered his voice. "Why are you doing this?"
Quite a disappointment. He felt a pang for the boy's father. "I only do what I must," he said in the manner of a parent scolding an impetuous child. "As the esteemed Mr. Stalin reminded us, 'you cannot lead a revolution with silk gloves.'"
Alexander extended his hand. Receiving respect necessitated giving respect, after all. The boy, however, had still not learned that lesson. He would, however.
He would.
With another sigh, Alexander pulled his hand back and stood, abandoning the very last of his prisons. He turned away from the comically stunned boy. "I am certain a resourceful young man such as yourself can capitalize on this most generous opportunity. Until we meet again, Mr. Chandler."
Alexander Cambias imparted one final message - "Do please extend my apologies to your mother for my most ill-advised error" – before stepping into the darkness, a free man at last.
####
Two boys occupied the grainy photo. One frozen in laughter, head tossed back, attention diverted by whatever shiny distraction was playing to the side. The other: studious, staring directly into the camera's lens. Some might say somber, some – the right ones – serious.
He placed a finger over the serious boy's cheek, almost stroking it. "You knew then what I would come to realize, Brother."
The quiet, almost imperceptible give of the door outside indicated that the arrivals were on schedule. Joaquin gave a disdainful head shake to the ignorant, laughing jester and put him in the darkest corner of the drawer. He pushed the button that provided him a window into the adjoining room, where five children lay peacefully on their specially prepared beds. They stirred, but they should not awaken when the others arrived. Joaquin pressed another button and spoke into the small attached microphone. "Bring me the little one," he said.
His best and brightest immediately heeded the command.
Moments later, his right-hand entered the room, and the sight might have been amusing under different circumstances: a hulking, nearly seven-footer with a pair of hands that could crush concrete slabs, and those hands – and the brute attached to them – were now held captive by the small bundle propped against one shoulder.
"How did it go?"
His solder took another step into the room and shifted the sleeping child to his other shoulder. "Surprisingly well, for the most part. There were a couple of…resistance issues, but they were taken care of."
Joaquin nodded, his family motto falling from his lips. "By any means necessary."
When he held his arms out for the child, he almost could have detected the first trace of reluctance from his faithful employee. Surely, surely he was mistaken.
But the man handed the boy over.
"Thank you, you are dismissed now," he commanded with the necessary edge.
His employee looked as if he might have wanted to speak again, which would have been a most unwise action. Finally, he recognized this fact and left. Joaquin would grant him the clench in his jaw as he did so. Only once. Disobedience was never to be tolerated. That he had also learned with time.
When they were left alone, he held the bundle before him. The boy's eyes fluttered open, and in them Joaquin could see the equal influence of the child's parents. He cooed at the child. The boy laughed, and Joaquin, perhaps for the first time since that faded picture had been taken, indulged as well.
"Yes, Alejandro – my key – I do believe that this is the beginning of a most beneficial friendship."