by Mason Dakota
I sure look like a hero today.
I left the store with my new rags on and the old thrown away and made for Michael’s house. I missed the rendezvous with everyone last night. Being kidnapped and fleeing for my life sort of prevented that from happening. By this point they would have already checked my apartment and the hideout. They would have been tempted to inform the authorities of my disappearance, which would only tip off Alexandra Carline.
That wasn’t my worst fear.
What if Raven or my father had been waiting at one of those places? Without Gabriel, Thomas and Michael would have been killed by either of those men!
I took off running down the street. A whole crowd of people walking about, some Outcasts and other Nobles, ignored me. The Outcasts avoided me, fearing I had the flu. It was understandable though ironically unnecessary. The Nobles made no effort to change their course when they saw me, giving me only disgusted looks as I brushed past them. Some carelessly bumped into me. They had no idea what they risked. I avoided as many as possible, but without mass transportation in Chicago everyone walked or biked to work, and at this time of day the streets were packed.
One mother, a Noble, even stopped as she passed me, glared at me, and then said out loud to her daughter, “Filthy Outcasts! Come along, sweetie. Don’t let them touch you; otherwise, you’ll have to take five baths to get their scent off you. Pathetic slaves.” She made a scoffing noise and I stopped in my tracks. I turned around to see her walking away, her head held high, her daughter turning back to glare daggers into me.
Just one cough is all it would take to humble you.
I’m proud to say I let that one slide, as well as every other comment while running to Michael’s house. I lost myself in the events of last night. I could have done more or something different to save the Justicars. Now they, the only ones keeping the peace between the NPFC and the Sabols, were dead. I helped that to be so.
I trained for countless hours for five minutes of heart pounding action, only to spend a lifetime second guessing myself. Even with all my self-hatred, nothing stung as much as that encounter with my father. Twenty years of thinking him dead, and the first thing he does upon seeing me is poison me and run off to go start a war. His actions felt like a hot knife plunged into my gut.
While Ziavir would pull a veil over the world with cheap parlor tricks, my father crossed a line no man ought to cross. No moral code could justify such actions.
And the father of the year award goes to Richard Nightlock! Gabriel and Ziavir were right. My father really is a monster.
And I think he is making me into one too.
Fifty
I made it to Michael’s apartment in a sweaty and exhausted state. My breath was reduced to short gasps for oxygen. Twice I stopped out of breath or in horrible pain as if a giant ape slapped me around with giant cymbals.
If this is what it feels like to walk around town, how am I supposed to beat Raven and my father?
As I reached out to knock on Michael’s door, I heard shouting coming from inside. Intrigued, I pressed my ear close to the door. I couldn’t hear details, but two people were definitely shouting back and forth: Michael and Gabriel.
Interesting.
Instead of knocking to ruin the surprise (because spoiling surprises would be rude), I firmly took hold of the doorknob and threw open the door.
Michael’s apartment never ceased to amaze me. By anyone else’s standards the place was a wreck with old empty pizza boxes and takeout cuisine lying about with other bits of discarded trash. Guests had to bob and weave through a web of different colored strings crisscrossing the apartment with papers suspended from them. Some of those papers were newspaper clippings, others equations, and some Michael’s personal notes on life or whatever he found interesting. None of it made sense to me, but if this was the way Michael’s mind thought things through, I wasn’t one to judge.
I already knew Michael and Gabriel would be there. I expected to find Thomas with them. He wasn’t; however, there was one other guest I never expected. Ralph Erikson. He casually stood behind Michael—who sounded rather angry and doing most of the yelling when I entered. When I opened the door and barged in without knocking, Michael’s mouth clammed shut in fright. Erikson jumped but recovered his composure and hid his fright behind his classic weasel’s smile. Gabriel had his gun half-way drawn before his brain registered that it was me entering.
“Griffon!” shouted Michael in fright, flustered as one caught in the act of a crime.
Gabriel gritted his teeth and holstered his weapon. “You should have knocked.”
Classic Gabriel. Catch you with your hand in the cookie jar and you tell me how I’m doing something wrong.
“Why? And miss all the fun in here? Why would I ever do that? Hello Erikson,” I said as I strolled into the apartment.
“Hello, Griffon,” replied Erikson, his voice smug and arrogant. I gave him the smile I reserve for vermin I dislike and moved toward the kitchen.
“Got any grub in this place, Michael? I’m starving!” I said from the kitchen as, uninvited, I rummaged through his pantry looking for food.
“Um…”
“Don’t answer that! I found some,” I said, mouth full of a granola bar as I came back into the room. Michael’s expression was shock, Erikson’s arrogance as always, and Gabriel settled for annoyed as he pinched the space between his two eyebrows.
Michael stuttered, “This…this isn’t.”
“A secret meeting between what could only be guessed as the last remaining members of Nebula in Chicago,” I said as I picked up someone’s mug of coffee off the table and drank a large gulp of it.
God, I hope it was Erikson’s.
Michael didn’t say anything to my accusation but just stood there opening and closing his mouth repeatedly, trying to find words I suppose. I didn’t have the patience or the time to go around in circles of lies.
I don’t have patience with traitors. Or common manners.
“Michael, enough, I’ve known for a while you were an agent of Nebula,” I said bluntly, using a fingernail to pick out pieces of granola out of my teeth. Something about being in the presence of snobby Nobles like Erikson turned me into a slob. The disgusted look he gave me only spurred me on to further feats of boisterous sloppiness.
Blood rushed to Michael’s cheeks and radiated his shock. Gabriel’s eyebrows peeked. Erikson chuckled as he said, “And here I have been sitting back for months enjoying the deception. It would seem my many comments and jokes behind your back—at your expense of course—have been for naught. Always a shame when a joke comes to an end.”
I glared at the weasel as I sipped his coffee again, making a loud slurping noise as I did. I was tempted to cough on him even now.
Michael scowled at Erikson. There could be no denying my accusation now after Erikson’s comment, robbing Michael the fair luxury of denying such claims. He swallowed and, in a manner of total defeat, asked, “What gave it away?”
“The first signs of it actually came the day I met Erikson,” I said. Erikson straightened up. Men like that always do when someone starts talking about them in their presence. It’s a pride thing. They only expect you to speak the best of them in their company. It’s the rule of their kind, complaints in the face, curses in the rear.
“For an organization that prides itself on secrecy, Michael, you provided an extensive amount of information about Nebula, uncovering decades of hidden information in fewer than twenty-four hours…far too quickly for someone even of your talent. You’re good, but not that good. The only way you could have discovered all that information so quickly…is if you already knew it.
“If you recall months ago, later that day I was given a text that showed Chamberlain and Alison in the crosshairs of a sniper rifle—not you. Odd that a terrorist group would threaten two out of the three and neglect to make mention of it entirely. At the time I just assumed they were playing on the fact of Chamberlain being an Illegal and my be
st friend so I dismissed the fact of your security from the threat. Then there’s the fact that in all our heists and jobs, you and Gabriel always planned and monitored together from the getaway van, and if anyone were to see the signs of who Gabriel was, it would have been you.
“You were also the first to ever suspect Ziavir’s device being an EMP, even when he made the city believe it was a nuclear weapon. You knew what it was long before this ever happened and your mannerisms during that time alluded to such.
“Then when Gabriel returned, you started acting strange…I mean stranger than usual. I couldn’t pinpoint what it was at first. Gabriel hinted to the existence of secrets kept amongst our group, which got me thinking. I’ve known Chamberlain for almost two decades and know everything about him, and I’m confident Alison has nothing to hide, and Gabriel had yet to meet Thomas. That makes you the only candidate for such a reference. Then finally there’s the unmistakable evidence of what we see here. I know you are part of Nebula and I can’t care less right now. The only thing I cannot figure out, though, is that if you are one of Gabriel’s agents, why assist me stopping them?”
Erikson made some sort of snorting laughter at my last comment. He shrugged and said, “I took you to be joking. After all you really didn’t stop anything.”
I snarled at Erikson, looked at Michael, and changed my statement. Erikson was right after all. “Attempt to stop them.” Erikson grinned victoriously at my submission. Michael’s expression sobered as he let his face hang low. He glanced at Gabriel and then back at Erikson. Gabriel nodded his head and Michael sighed once again. Reaching behind him he rubbed the back of his head. He refused to look me in the eye as he began his tale.
“When Nebula discovered that you were still alive Gabriel came up with the idea to plant an agent undercover with you to both keep you safe and to keep tabs on you. We were the reason you didn’t know your father was alive, or that he was a warlord of the North. We even helped to prevent this city’s authorities from knowing the connection between you and your father. Gabriel thought me the best agent to make this happen. This was my first assignment. I was tasked with befriending you and protecting you both from threats and the truth. I quickly learned though that there was no keeping you from danger, so we settled for the second part.”
I couldn’t help but smirk at that.
“A short time later, Gabriel decided that the key to drawing out your father rested in handing him this city, so he decided to join my undercover operation. I have to admit I never knew until now that the mission was your father. I just assumed he wished to get reacquainted with you from your connection to your childhood. He played me too, Griffon. When I heard that Ziavir had been tasked to come to Chicago in order to set off an EMP device, and that I was supposed to keep you from interfering in Ziavir’s operation, I refused.
“I could not afford to openly oppose both the director and his second-in-command, but you had already interfered enough to be hooked and I could leave enough bread crumbs to help you along. Of course Gabriel discovered what I was doing. He could not remove me without exposing himself as well. I guess there is a blessing in that.”
I glanced at Gabriel who still did not look at me. He stood silently with his arms crossed. He looked as though he were trying to telepathically manipulate Michael and prevent him from sharing too much. Michael refused to glance at him, maybe sensing the same.
Would Gabriel eliminate Michael if he posed a threat?
Michael continued his tale, “I was excommunicated for my efforts. That is why I did not know about that execution or where Ziavir planted the device. I did know that countless lives would be lost if Nebula’s plan worked, and that it needed to be stopped. I had contributed to making this all happen. I was responsible for stopping it. But it made me a traitor to Nebula, just as I had been a traitor to you for so many years. I thought all that was behind me. Actually, I figured Ziavir or some other assassin would have killed me by now. Either way I was finished with Nebula, or so I thought until Gabriel returned.”
Michael stopped talking. The room grew silent. I think everyone waited to see how I would respond. Possibly for the first time in my life I had nothing to say, nor did I feel the need to speak. The old me would have exploded with rage—the version of me just two nights ago. But last night changed something in me. Dying puts things in new perspective, like the lengths Michael went to in order to atone for his actions.
How can I fault him for wanting the same redemption I want?
After a long pause in the conversation, I changed the subject by saying, “So I met my father last night.”
Gabriel abruptly straightened up and even Erikson was caught off guard. Both of them opened their mouths to speak, but Michael beat them to the punch. “So wait! You are not mad? You are not going to try to…kill me?”
His question stung.
Is that really what he thinks of me?
“I’m very upset. I’m not sure whether or not I can trust you, but I don’t have time to deal with that right now. I’m on something of a tight schedule,” I said.
I saw confusion in their expressions and Gabriel spoke up. “You encountered your father last night! What happened? Tell me everything! I want every detail.”
I won’t lie; I felt disgusted as he spoke to me. After what Michael had just said, my opinion on Gabriel had dwindled yet again. To think that he would manipulate Michael just to get to my father disturbed me.
Is that who I am destined to become? To think I once looked up to the man.
But they needed to hear this in order to help me. So I gave them the story. “Last night, after the wedding and after we separated to cover the city, I went looking for Jeremiah Lorre.”
“Former washed-out NPFC agent? Now member of that rabble who call themselves the Justicars? That Jeremiah Lorre?” asked Erikson.
Once again I scowled at Erikson for so rudely interrupting. He had the look of a man who had done no wrong. Maybe it had just been built into him that a Noble couldn’t possibly act rudely toward an Outcast. “Former member of the Justicars,” I whispered.
“Couldn’t last with them either?” asked Erikson. A mocking tone resonated in his voice.
“Because they are all dead,” I said. Michael hissed a gasp and Erikson’s face went pale.
“What do you mean?” asked Gabriel.
“I mean they are all dead—killed. Lorre was my contact with them. As you already know, we were working with them to figure out who’s creating the virus. I was meeting with Lorre last night to discuss the investigation. When I got to his apartment I found a note with an address. It lead me to a warehouse filled with dead Justicars.”
“Someone killed them all in a single day? Who could have done that? How come nobody heard of it or noticed that many going missing in a single day?” whispered Michael. He looked around the apartment, even peeked out the windows, thinking the killer might be close by and listening.
“Tempest Raven and my father. Raven ambushed me at the warehouse,” I said.
Erikson cursed under his breath, turned toward Gabriel, and said, “You never said anything about Raven and Richard when you asked for my help.”
“A need to know detail. You weren’t privy to all the details last time, and look how well that benefited you. Trust me, you’ll once again be rewarded for your services,” Gabriel said with diplomacy. It would have been more effective if he had actually looked at Erikson when he said the words.
Erikson’s eyes twinkled imagining greater profits coming his way. He straightened out his suit jacket as he said, “My rate has just gone up now.”
Gabriel rolled his eyes, his way of either ignoring Erikson or agreeing to the terms, and asked me, “What happened when they ambushed you?”
“I…lost,” I said. Erikson snickered. “I awoke strapped to a chair across from Lorre, who was strapped to his own chair. My father was there. We had a nice chat about morality and…ethical nobility. I got confirmation he intended to kill the Empero
r and his government by unleashing the virus. When I told him who I was, we had a great conversation of fatherly disappointment. After that, he left Lorre and me behind strapped to our chairs.”
“He just left you?” asked Michael.
“Not before giving me this,” I said as I pulled back down the collar of my sweater. The spot where Raven and my father had injected the virus into my neck was swollen. My veins bulged at the spot, which was a disgusting shade of blues and yellows. Michael gasped. Erikson leapt backwards, and knocked over a chair. Gabriel remained speechless, but his eyes grew twice their size before darkening.
“Your father…” whispered Gabriel.
“GAVE YOU THE VIRUS!” screamed Erikson as he continued to backpedal from me. I winked at him as I slurped more of his coffee.
Feeling an unnatural level of smugness, I said, “We didn’t leave on the best of terms, especially when he told the Sabols and the NPFC where I was. He turned the whole Stinks into a gang fight, but not before making Lorre and me fight for the cure and cover his escape.”
“He did that?” asked Michael shocked.
“And I take it Lorre ended up with the cure,” asked Gabriel. I nodded and he didn’t ask in what manner Lorre got the cure. Maybe he was saving me embarrassment. Maybe he didn’t ask because he hoped for a better answer and didn’t want to know otherwise. I didn’t change or confirm any suspicion he might have.
“Is nobody else concerned that we are in the company of an infected?” shouted Erikson. Etiquette was forfeit now. Blind panic ruled Erikson and it would consume him the longer he remained with me.
I smiled, waved my hand, and said, “Maybe it’s time you left, Erikson.” He took my advice and fled, brushing Michael and Gabriel aside, knocking over another chair, and fleeing past me—pressing his body as far away from me as he could—as he exited out the door. I blew him a kiss as he passed (exhaling as hard as I could) and waved goodbye to Ralph Erikson.