“He sure is,” Caitlyn concurred as she gazed lovingly after the man’s retreating form.
#
“Where am I?” Del asked sleepily as Max laid him in a soft king-sized bed.
“You’re in Uncle Bert’s bedroom,” Max told him before pulling a light blanket up to the boy’s chin.
“Oh, okay. Could you sing our song?”
Max, happy to comply, sang the “Raven’s Song” until he was certain the boy was fast asleep. He then leaned down, gently kissed his son’s forehead, and adjusted the blanket covering him. “I love you, Big Guy,” he whispered as he stood and crept from the room, softly closing the door behind him.
Outside the room, a Raven ranger in full barding approached the door and greeted Max with a warm smile. “I’ll keep an eye on him if you want, sir,” he offered.
Max was thrilled that a man as important as a ranger would extend such an offer. He enthusiastically shook the man’s hand, “I’d be honored if you would. If he wakes up, could you please lemme know?”
The ranger smiled, “No problem.”
#
A young man dressed in a servant’s uniform watched closely as Max exited the manor house and made his way towards one of the pavilions. Gathering up some dirty dishes from a nearby table, the young man went to the house and entered through the kitchen’s service door. The kitchen was a hot, steamy chaotic microcosm of clanging utensils, mouthwatering smells, and harried cooks. He deposited the dirty dishes at the base of a small mountain of equally dirty dinnerware, then slipped unnoticed into the adjoining dining hall, which was markedly empty, and began a long, casual trek through the cavernous mansion.
He was intimately familiar with the house layout and the guard placement within it, allowing him to move through the dwelling virtually undetected. Soon, he was standing at the end of a hallway, where he carefully examined his destination, a door guarded by a single ranger. Assuming an air of quiet confidence, the young man sauntered up to the ranger, who had turned to study him with a look of wariness.
The ranger announced, “No one’s allowed above the first floor. I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”
“I know it, but I was told to get some laundry from the governor’s room. One of the servants went home sick earlier, and I have to catch his work up. Well, I don’t have to, but he’d be real grateful, if ya catch my drift,” the young man casually explained, a wicked grin on his face as he pantomimed a common sex act involving a hand.
The ranger chuckled, “Alright, but leave the door cracked, and work quietly. VSF Colonel Von Raben’s son is sleeping.”
The young man smiled, voiced his gratitude, and carefully opened the door. He stealthily entered the room and, doing as asked, left the door open a crack, giving him enough light to work. Someone stirred slightly on the bed, so he skulked in that direction. As he approached the bed, the young man reached into his jacket and produced a silver cylinder the size of an average grown man’s middle finger.
Del lay sleeping peacefully, the dim light illuminating his angelic face. The young man gingerly placed the end of the cylinder against the flesh of the boy’s neck, and was rewarded with a sharp click from the object. The child’s eyes flew open, and he sucked in a gasp of surprise mingled with pain. The tranquilizers took effect at that moment, and the young man watched as the boy’s eyes clouded over and his body went limp.
The young man wasted no time in gathering the boy up and entering Governor Von Raben’s sizable closet. He looked about and quickly spied a large knapsack hanging at the closet’s rear. He quickly took possession of the sack, dropped it to the floor, and stuffed Del’s lifeless body into it, packing the empty spaces around the boy with clothing taken from the surrounding racks and hangers. He then zipped the sack shut before hefting it onto his back and returning to the bedroom.
He quickly arranged some pillows on the bed until they resembled the size and shape of Del’s body. He then pressed the button on the cylinder a second time, and an intense heat began radiating from the object. He placed the cylinder beneath one of the pillows before covering them with the blanket. He took a second to check his work, and was pleased to find that it appeared as if the boy was snuggled beneath the blankets. The young man then casually exited the room.
The ranger met him in the hallway. Once the young man had moved aside, the ranger peeked into the room, took in what he thought was Del’s sleeping form, and activated the thermal scan function on his HUD, revealing a relatively small orange blob with a temperature of roughly ninety-eight degrees on the bed. Once satisfied, he carefully closed the door and turned to the young man.
“Sleepin’ soundly,” the young man remarked.
“Wish I could sleep that well. That the laundry?” the ranger inquired, nodding towards the knapsack.
“Weird, right? Some of the Governor’s old athletic stuff. Wants it washed for some reason.”
The ranger chuckled, completely drawn in by the effortless ruse, “Guess politicians get away with all sorts of weird stuff.”
“Not half the stuff you rangers get away with, eh?” the young man countered with a sly grin.
The men shared a laugh, and after saying their goodbyes, the servant left the ranger and began to make his way back to the staircase.
“Nice guy,” the ranger muttered to himself.
#
“This’s been a truly wonderful evening,” Caitlyn cooed as she rested her head on Max’s shoulder.
They held each other close as they swayed together on the dance floor to a slow, romantic song that filled the night air.
“I’m glad you’ve enjoyed it, my love,” Max responded.
Caitlyn was about to speak again when Bert suddenly appeared at Max’s side, an expression of concern on his face. “Could you come with me a second, Max? There’s a bit of a situation in the house,” he explained.
Max gave Caitlyn’s hand a reassuring squeeze, then followed Bert through a throng of jovial guests towards the house. “What’s the problem?” he asked.
“Security surveillance caught an unidentified man in the mansion. Thought you could help apprehend him. We’re trying to keep all this low-key so as not to cause a panic,” Bert explained.
Max was sure it was all a misunderstanding, yet a worrisome uncertainty begin to nag at him. This suddenly morphed into a deep concern for his son’s wellbeing, but he knew the ranger caring for him would provide more than adequate protection. Nonetheless, he prayed silently for his child’s safety as he continued after Bert.
He and Bert bounded up the front steps, through the mansion’s front door, and were stopped short by the sight which greeted them. A young man in a white server’s uniform was standing less than ten feet from the front door, apparently on his way from the living room to the parlor. A bulging knapsack was hanging from his back, and a small smile played at his lips upon noticing the brothers. Max quickly surmised that they had surprised a robber, and went hot with rage. This man had stolen from his brother’s house, and Max decided, then and there, that he would be the one to apprehend this criminal.
With almost superhuman speed, he lunged at the youth, lashing out with a punch that was praised by many to be flawless by any possible estimation. The young man, though encumbered, effortlessly dodged the blow and darted into the parlor. Max stood bewildered for half a second then took off after his prey, leaving Bert shouting after him.
“Be careful, Maximilian!”
“Go get Del!” Max commanded over his shoulder.
Max did not check to see if his brother had obeyed his command as he followed the young man through the parlor and adjoining dining hall, into the kitchen, past the alarmed staff, and out through the service entrance. The young man had joined with an older man in identical dress, who had surprised a trio of rangers that had apparently been sent to secure the service entrance. Max was shocked to see that the second man had somehow slashed the throats of each ranger, but he had no time to go to their aid. Five hundred feet fr
om the service entrance stood the fifteen-foot-tall wrought-iron fence marking the edge of the mansion grounds, outside of which a black Lux-car sat hovering.
A heated sprint commenced, Max wrenching every ounce of athleticism from his body in a desperate, and ultimately hopeless, attempt to apprehend the thieves before they reached the fence. The thieves made it to their destination nearly five seconds before Max, giving the younger of the two plenty of time start scaling the obstruction, the knapsack still on his back, his partner keeping a keen eye on Max. Max was impressed with the speed at which the young man scaled the fence, but his attention was quickly diverted to the young man’s partner, who stood staring him down. Without breaking his sprint, Max closed on the man and struck with a jumping pump kick. The man easily dodged around the kick, darted forward, and delivered a series of three powerful, lightning-quick punches to Max’s midsection as he landed. Max was struggling to breathe but continued to engage the man even as his young accomplice cleared the fence, opened the Lux-car, and tossed the knapsack inside. Max attempted several more blows, all of which were dodged and countered, and when an opening in his defenses presented itself, the man struck with a stabbing thrust of the hand to Max’s throat.
Max fell to his knees; coughing and choking as the man rapidly scaled the fence without so much as a backwards glance. The young man outside the fence watched with a neutral expression as his companion dropped to the ground before him. The duo then wasted no time in piling into the Lux-car. Max could only watch helplessly as the door snapped shut, and with a low-pitched whine the vehicle sped off into the night.
#
Max came trudging back to the party and was immediately met by Caitlyn, Michael, and Anna. Caitlyn took in his obvious distress and threw her arms around her husband, squeezing him tightly.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, her voice heavy with worry.
“There was a robbery,” Max related, his voice slightly raspy from the injury he had received.
This revelation was met with voiced concern from the other adults.
“Where’s Del?!” Caitlyn cried.
“With Bert and a ranger. He’s all right,” Max soothed.
“Did you catch the robbers?” Michael asked.
“No. They got away,” Max reported.
“Oh well. They won’t get far,” Michael said with complete confidence.
Max was still holding his wife when Bert approached, a devastated expression on his face. He went to Max and whispered at length in his ear. Caitlyn felt Max’s body go rigid, and his arms dropped lifelessly from around her. She stepped away from her husband and felt an icy ball of dread form in her gut as she took in his agonized expression and the tears welling up in his eyes.
“What’s happened?” Caitlyn asked, though she was terrified of the possible answers.
Max began speaking, but his voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again, “This . . . this was a kidnapping. Someone’s taken Del.”
Caitlyn felt a ghastly sense of unreality pervade her being. Her body felt hot, then cold, then finally numb, all in quick succession, and the world swam drunkenly before her as a violent wave of nausea ravaged her. “I don’t believe you, Maximilian! There’s no way someone could’ve taken Del! No one’s taken our son!” she stammered hysterically as she clutched at the front of her husband’s kimono.
“I’m sorry,” Max sobbed hoarsely as tears coursed down his cheeks.
A heart-rending shriek suddenly erupted from Caitlyn’s throat, and she fell to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably.
#
“I don’t wanna hear any excuses! Useless refuse is all you’ve spewed at me!” Frederic thundered, causing every person in his manor’s private office to blanch with fear, “I don’t care if the crowds have slowed search efforts, and I don’t care if there’s hundreds of Lux-cars in the city tonight! The only thing that concerns me is the safe recovery of my grandson!”
The VSF commanding officers stood silently as they waited expectantly for Frederic’s next instructions.
“What’re you waiting for?! Get out there and find him! Now!” Frederic commanded, slamming a fist on his desk for emphasis.
The officers quickly filed from the room, Michael and Ronald remaining behind. After leaving Bert’s party earlier that evening, Frederic and his wife had returned to their home and were enjoying their evening when the news of their grandson’s kidnapping reached them. Nicolene had immediately put in a call to Bert while Frederic went to his office and summoned all his VSF commanding officers above the rank of sergeant-major. Now he sat trying to collect himself while his closest confidants took their seats and waited, Michael unsheathing and anxiously toying with his scimitar. Daryl quietly entered the office seconds before Frederic spoke.
“Gentlemen, I’m at a loss as to how we should proceed,” he admitted, his voice heavy with weariness.
“We’ve got nothin’ on the identity of the kidnappers, which is unheard of in this day and age. No matching voice or fingerprints, retinal scans came up empty, and their faces weren’t in any ID bank. It’s like they’ve never friggin’ existed,” Michael reported.
“Let us hope the DNA Registry will come up with something,” Daryl assured the room.
“It has to. If anyone steps so much as a foot in the Federation, their DNA’s recorded. They found both suspects’ genetics all over the Bert’s house, so there’s plenty to go on,” Ronald included.
Everyone in the room suddenly recalled that whoever murdered Linda, Frederic’s SIR servant, had not been in the DNA registry, an ominous fact none of them bothered to mention.
“You think the Fulsoms had anything to do with this?” Michael carefully asked Frederic.
“Of course they did,” Frederic answered, “but without any proof there’s little can be done!”
Michael continued, “Judging from the evidence, it also looks like the kidnappers had help from someone on the inside, but the ranger that let the kidnapper into the room with Del wasn’t involved. Incidentally, he’s being chastised for various infractions, foremost being not running a background check on the intruder. The Sharks and Bulls said they’d be more than willin’ to keep us in the loop as they investigate.”
“I’m sure the rangers will sniff that dirty sneak out. I’m still wonderin’ how in the Abyss his partner was able to kill three fully armed and armored Raven rangers, with nothin’ but a penknife, no less. The idea of it’s abso-fuggin’-lutely nuts,” Ronald said.
The office door once again opened, and Ernesto gently guided Nicolene into the room. Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot from crying and her hands were visibly trembling. She made her way to her husband’s side, and Frederic stood and gently took her into his arms.
“How’re they holding up?” he asked.
“Caitlyn’s inconsolable, and Max isn’t doing much better. He keeps saying he should’ve stopped the kidnappers and that he couldn’t save Del because he wasn’t good enough. He truly believes it’s his fault,” she reported, her breath beginning to hitch as she finished speaking.
“So help me, I’ll kill whoever did this myself!” Frederic growled as he gently rubbed his wife’s back in an effort to calm her.
A quiet rapping on the door prevented further conversation as Frederic bade the visitor enter. A VSF trooper entered carrying a thin, medium-sized rectangular box of black plastic which he sat with a soft thump upon Frederic’s desk before saluting. “This was found outside the front gate, sir. It was declared safe by the guards and sent directly to you,” the trooper reported.
“What is it?” Nicolene asked with apprehension as disengaged herself from Frederic and dried her eyes.
“A Hermes. They were used to deliver private messages before identity locks for the Cells were perfected. They are antiques,” Daryl informed her.
Frederic took his seat, found a black glass plate on the top surface of the box, and pressed his thumb to it. There was a sharp metallic click, and the top began to clamsh
ell open with slow mechanical precision. Within moments, an ancient plasma broadcast screen had risen and flared to sudden life, the screen filling with neat, even rows of spinach-green ones and zeroes.
“CEO Fredric Von Raben, for identification purposes, please insert your hands into the slots located below the screen and keep them there,” an electronic voice ordered from speakers hidden within the box.
Frederic noticed the narrow, shadowy recesses on the front of the box and slipped his hands inside. Everyone crowded in behind Frederic just as the numbers on the screen were replaced by the image of a Spider genin’s masked visage, a white spider standing stark on its gray forehead.
“Oh, Holy Humanity, no!” Nicolene groaned, her hands flying to her mouth and her eyes widening in horror.
“The White Spider!” Michael hissed.
“He’s fuggin’ real?!” Ronald gulped in disbelief.
“I am, and understand this,” the White Spider bluntly stated in his sonorous voice, “the boy lives. However, if the demands of our client are not met, he will be eliminated without hesitation.”
Frederic struggled to suppress his rage and speak in a civilized tone, “It’s common knowledge that Veriform corporate policy prohibits negotiation with terrorists.”
The White Spider did not acknowledge Frederic’s remark, choosing instead to list his demands, “First and foremost, if any action is taken in an attempt to locate the boy, he will be eliminated in the cruelest fashion possible. If any hostile action is made against any entity, he will be eliminated. Finally, and this is the most important of the demands, Governor Floyd and Governor Von Raben must go through with their intentions of voting for Governor Fulsom in the presidential election, or the boy will be eliminated.”
“How do we know Del’s even alive?” Frederic demanded.
The White Spider’s voice remained frustratingly impassive, “If you’re gonna call my bluff, you better be sure I’m not holding the winning hand.”
Frederic’s shoulders slumped and his voice took on a tone of defeat, “Fine. We’ll do whatever you want, just please, give us Del back unharmed.”
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