Part 8 - The Fight

The world before me was illuminated with a brilliant light, a light emanating solely from the chest cradled in Gibbs’ rubber hands. The goggles were allowing me to see its contents, and it was all as beautiful as it was mysterious. The Benefactor was right, I thought to myself. He is inside the chest. I couldn’t fully explain what I was seeing, but I knew that I was seeing it with perfect clarity.

As my gaze turned to Gibbs and the boy, I realized that the goggles’ majestic power didn’t end with the chest, and I found myself completely unprepared for what I witnessed next. Gibbs is a machine. Through the goggles, I unblinkingly stared into the core of a massive, intricate robot, a robot that I had previously considered a human being. Instead of muscle and tissue, I saw only wires and hard drives. Instead of a brain or a heart, I saw only servers and processors, whirring and blinking under Gibbs’ synthetic human flesh. The entire spectacle was disgusting, and I then became acutely aware of the source of Gibbs’ unnatural strength and cunning. Who had built him, and for what purpose?

My gaze turned next to the boy Sweeney. The goggles revealed not an awesome machine, or some divine light, but simply a tummy filled with macaroni and hot pockets. I became filled with rage as I wondered why the boy’s palate wasn’t more mature. Just like his filthy uncle Rory, I thought.

Gibbs’ discomfort with my penetrating stare had reached its zenith, and in an instant, he made his move. He handed the chest to Sweeney, entrusting him to begin flying the helicopter. Gibbs’ charge seemed sluggish, and I realized that wearing his goggles had put me on an equal plane. I am prepared to fight you now.

“I calculate that you have only a 16 percent chance of beating me,” Gibbs shrieked.

A giant pair of mechanical wings grew out of his back. Like a giant, goggled hawk, he leapt into the air and circled the Sweeney property a few times. I dug my feet into the dirt, preparing for the inevitable aerial attack. How does he digest his food, I found myself wondering. Can robots love? These were questions for another time. Gibbs swooped down at me with incredible speed, even through the goggles. I caught a piece of his wing in my hand, and I used the unexpected leverage to drive him into the earth.

I pinned him down. I could see the light of a computer monitor beneath his wetsuit. I had been away from my own personal computer for a while, and would use this opportunity to check my Facebook. I peeled back the rubber wetsuit, unmasking his true nature. I had many friend requests to accept, and Gibbs was forced to struggle beneath my newfound power.

I was nearing the fast money round of an online Family Feud game when Gibbs escaped my hold, spiraling back into the night sky. Proving himself inept at piloting aircraft, Sweeney unsurprisingly collided with the robot midair, and both fell to the earth under a mess of destroyed helicopter, flames and smoke.

I sprinted over to the smoldering rubble, causally tossing Sweeney’s limp body aside so that I could grab what rightfully belonged to The Benefactor. The chest felt warm to the touch, and I cherished the fact that I would be the one to deliver it. My birth name, Abdul-Mannan, meant ‘Servant of the Benefactor’. Tonight, I would do honor to my name. I would fulfill my purpose, my entire reason for being.

Across the yard, Gibbs was floating face down in the pool of a fountain, the water shorting his many circuits. He won’t be a problem any longer, I thought. It was time to deliver the chest.

Part 7 - The Bar

That same evening, O'Brian was pulling up to a bar far outside the city limits for his meeting with The Benefactor. The flashing neon sign announced "O'Brien's Food and Spirits" to the surrounding wastes. O'Brian got out of the car and steeled himself for the upcoming meeting. His hand instinctual went to the pendant, its cool weight reassuring him.

O'Brian pushed the doors open and walked int O'Brien's. As much as O'Brian liked O'Brien, he couldn't stand his bar. It wasn't the location or the decor that put him off so much as it was the clientele. O'Brien had been failed pretty spectacularly by the education system, and had reached adulthood with a very basic misunderstanding of the various ways the term 'Spirits' could be used. As such, O'Brien's bar was sort of a mystic watering hole. There was a werewolf sipping whiskey at the bar while a Poltergeist with a glass of Port was chatting up a Banshee drinking a bottle of Blue Moon near the pool table. A very drunk demon was at the karaoke machine, belting out a version of "Tiny Dancer" in an eldritch tongue.

O'Brian walked up to the bar and asked the bartender where he could find O'Brien. The vampire bartender finished straining a cocktail for the impatient looking cockatrice clucking in his direction and pointed O'Brian towards the office in the back. O'Brian walked over to O'Brien's office and walked in.

"O'Brian?" asked O'Brien, looking up from his books.

"Hey O'Brien," responded O'Brian, "It's been a long time."

O'Brien stood up and gave O'Brian a hearty hug. The two men had been fast friends ever since O'Brian had helped O'Brien out of a jam in Burma. Ever since then O'Brian had helped O'Brien finance O'Brien's and in return O'Brien maintained an open conduit to The Benefactor for O'Brian.

"I need to speak with Him" said O'Brian

"This soon?" asked O'Brien. "You were in here only a few months ago."

"I know O'Brien," said O'Brian, "but something's come up that He needs to hear about."

O'Brien nodded, and wordlessly moved to the bookshelf in the back of his office. Pushing it out of the way, he revealed the stone door hidden behind it. Rough hewn of an onyx like stone, it lacked any discernible features, save the round indentation at its center. O'Brien stepped to the side, allowing O'Brian to come forward. O'Brian took the pendant from his pocket and fit it in the indentation. It fit in with a strangely loud 'SNAP' and the world shifted.

O'Brian was no longer in O'Brien's office. He was standing in an empty, white expanse that seemed to stretch forever in every direction. From behind him he heard a voice roll out from the expanse.

"Ah, O'Brian. I have been expecting you. Sit."

O'Brian turned and where there was nothing a moment before, there was suddenly something. Two leather armchairs sat in the expanse, one occupied and one empty. O'Brian sat in the vacant chair and looked at The Benefactor. He had appeared in many forms to O'Brian over the years, but today He was wearing his most common shape; that of a tall man in a white suit whose face was covered by a mask, gold on the left and silver on the right. That was unsurprising; O'Brien had never seen His face no matter what form He had taken.

O'Brian began to speak, but was cut off by The Benefactor. "I know why you are here, and I know that you have many questions. Don't bother asking them because we are very nearly out of time. You must get Me the chest." O'Brian moved to speak again, but The Benefactor continued. "I've already told you, there is no time for questions. The chest is even now beginning to slip from your grasp. I know you though. You will not leave Me without some answers. You wish to know what is in the chest, why it is so important to me. The answer is quite simple: I am."

Part 6 - The Goggles

I awoke with a start. The space around me was dark, and the floor beneath me felt hard. I tried to sit up, but was immediately thrown back to my initial position after hitting my head on a felt surface not two feet above my head. I’m in the trunk of my car. I immediately began to feel around for the chest, my only success being that I was able to find a half-dead fly and a spare pair of huge goggles in one corner of the tiny enclosing. I would deal with Gibbs later. That manic would pay for putting me in this despicable situation, and for stealing Sweeney’s chest, the contents of which were invaluable. Gibbs is unprepared to open it.

As I reached up to feel the many bruises on my neck, I became attuned to the fact that the vehicle did not seem to be moving. The trunk was still locked no doubt, and a swift kick upward confirmed my suspicions. I would have to do a lot better than that if I wanted to get out of this. Gathering all of my remaining strength, I chose to ram the place where I thought the lock would be with my head. I did not do this with my feet, as you may have expected. I don’t feel it necessary to explain why.

The locked snapped and the trunk popped open, revealing a calm, cloudless night. A quick survey of my surroundings told me that I was parked near the east wing of the Sweeney Estate. Intricate and beautiful landscaping dotted the perfectly cut lawn. The east driveway was lined with trees sculpted to look like various celebrities and historical figures, and a beautiful Pee Wee Herman shrub quickly caught my wandering eye. A seven-story Animaniacs fountain shot cold water high into the night sky not ten yards away from me. The Sweeney family loved children’s programming. I’d missed the east wing.

I grabbed Gibbs’ spare goggles out of my trunk, for an experienced assassin knows to always utilize what is given to him, even if he is unsure of its purpose at the time. Creeping around to the back of the estate, I knelt down under the expansive kitchen window. Inside, Sweeney was seated at a table with Gibbs, the closed chest between them. Gibbs was gesturing at it excitedly, clearly worked up about something. Sweeney seemed distant and sullen. I was going to have to approach this situation stealthily.

I smashed the kitchen window with a huge rock and started screaming in every language that I knew. Gibbs grabbed the chest and ran toward a door with Sweeney following suit. I will not leave here without the chest, I thought to myself, thinking of O’Brian and the benefactor that he had mentioned.

With almost inhuman speed and strength, Gibbs threw open the estate’s massive front door, just as a private helicopter touched down on the front lawn, disrupting the peaceful night air. As Gibbs and the boy ran toward the vessel’s opening door, I knew I had to act quickly. The pair was out of my reach, and were probably about to take the chest to some remote location, like Antarctica or Iowa.

I needed something to distract them, anything to disrupt the unfortunate chain of events that was currently unfolding before me. I saw Gibbs turn to look back at me, and I knew that I had one remaining resource, one more possible course of action to take. I took his spare pair of goggles from my pocket, and put them on my face.

The world seemed to stop spinning right then and there. I could feel every droplet of water from the Animaniacs fountain. I could here every rotation of the helicopter’s blade. Gibbs stopped dead in his tracks, looking right at me. Connor was already boarding the private helicopter, yelling something inaudible to Gibbs over the roar of its engine.

What I saw through those goggles would change my life forever.

Part 5 - The Benefactor

Across the city Charles O'Brian set leaned back in his chair, pondering what he had just heard. It seemed tapping Mr. Sweeney's phones had been a good call, expensive though it was. So, he thought, Gibbs has the chest. I would have expected this from the old man, but I didn't think the boy had the guts to use that maniac. Well, I suppose this is why one has contingency plans.

O'Brian stood slowly and pondered his next move. As the most powerful man in the city he had many options available to him. The chest was certainly important, but even so, he couldn't afford to attract too much attention. As much as he would like to have Gibbs gunned down in the street like the animal he was, it was too risky. No, it would take a more delicate touch to resolve this situation.

O'Brian looked around his office, taking in the trappings of his success. In the center of the office was a magnificent dinosaur skull atop a silver pedestal. Nicolas Cage had been sorely disappointed when O'Brian had outbid him for the magnificent piece. Along the rich mahogany walls were various trophies and pieces of art. He admired the Picasso he had recovered from the wreck of a German U-Boat many years ago at great expense. It was flanked by an original copy of the Magna Carta on one side and one of the larger remaining pieces of the True Cross on the other. That last artifact was almost more trouble than it was worth, what with the constant stream of priests and minister of every denomination offering to purchase it from him.

Still considering the situation he found himself in, O'Brian turned towards his desk and picked up his most prized possession. He picked up the small stone pendant he had obtained all those years ago, before his rise to power. It was an unassuming thing, this pendant. It was made of stone, black as the sin in man's heart. A strange light danced across its surface, hinting at smoky depths below. Even in the warmth of his office the pendant was strangely cold in his hand. He turned it over and over, studying the runes on its surface. The runes which no one had been able to identify.

O'Brian let out a low sigh. He supposed he knew it would come to this all along, but it had taken actually holding the pendant to make him admit it. His benefactor would be very upset if he failed to obtain the chest. he would have to go to him and obtain his help. O'Brian pocketed the pendant before calling for his car. O'Brian may have been the most powerful man in the city, but his benefactor was more powerful still. And O'Brian was going to see him.

Part 4 - The Family

The color drained from Connor Sweeney’s face as he realized the identity of the voice that he was currently hearing over the phone. Gibbs. Sweeney could recognize that icy whisper anywhere. After all, Gibbs and the Sweeney family shared a long and tumultuous history.

Despite Gibbs’ frustrating goggles and penchant for wearing wetsuits, Sweeney’s father, the late Edwin Sweeney, had been good friends with the strange character for many years. The two would regularly play cards together, until one night they found themselves in a drunken altercation over a heated game of pinochle. Edwin, using his considerable connections with some of the city’s most powerful lawmakers, had Gibbs arrested and sent to a prison. Ever since, Gibbs had made his best efforts to disrupt the doings of the Sweeney family, whether it be through harassing them on the phone, causing property damage to the Sweeney estate, or even by eating some of the family’s priciest pets.

Needless to say, Connor Sweeney (current heir to the Sweeney fortune) was skeptical upon hearing Gibbs' phone request for a truce.

“I rescued the chessssst for you,” Gibbs said. “It wasss in grave danger.”

“How?” Sweeney questioned, suspecting Gibbs was toying with him once again.

“A very dangeroussss man was driving west with it. He wanted to take it to Mr. O’Brian. I hid in hisss car and stopped him. He’ssss already killed your uncle Rory.”

Sweeney gulped. He knew full well the danger that came with being a part of a mob family, and the Sweeney’s had certainly seen their fair share of fights with various competing mob groups and brotherhoods. Rory Sweeney had always been kind to him, and Gibb’s words, while still possibly untrue, provoked a powerful emotional response from the young nephew. The circumstances were different this time. No one had ever managed to steal the chest, much less cause Uncle Rory to lose more than a single fingernail in a fight. Connor, as a boy, had once joked that ‘Uncle Rory’ sounded more like a Gilmore Girls character than a powerful mob boss, to which Uncle Rory promptly broke the boy’s jaw in three places.

“I’m still having a hard time believing you,” Sweeney retorted, hungry for more answers. “Since when is the wellbeing of my family in your best interest?”

“You have no choice but to trussssst me,” whispered Gibbs. “We’re on the ssssame side now, fighting a common enemy. Haven’t you ssseeen the trailer for Catsss and Dogssss 2: The Revenge of Kitty Galore? Catsss and dogsss have to learn to work together in that movie. What about Eclipssse? Edward and Jacob must learn to accccept each other to protect Bella. These are not coincidences Mr. Ssssweeeney. Our time has come.”

“I haven’t been to the movies yet this year,” retorted Connor, frustrated that Gibbs would trivialize the situation by mentioning such cinematic tripe.

“I’ll be at your housssse at dussssk,” hissed Gibbs with an increasing urgency. “The man who killed your uncle is unconsioussss in my trunk. He’ll be awake sssoon.”

Connor hung up the phone, furrowing his sweaty brow. He had much to prepare.

Part 3 - The Diner

The waitress returned to the table with my three scrambled eggs, piping hot and with a side of bacon.

"Is there anything else I can get you?" she asked, smiling politely.

"4 dozen eggsssssss." hissed the man in the diving suit and goggles.

"F- FOUR dozen eggs? I don't know if we -" the waitress began, clearly as confused as the strangely goggled man's request as I was.

"Put them in a bowl and a float a pieccccccccccccce of toast on top." Continued the man in the ribber suit, cutting the flustered waitress off. The waitress was clearly quite distressed at this point, and began to walk quickly back towards the kitchen.

"And bring a bendy-straw," the man in the rubber suit yelled after her, "My friend here issssss paying." He gestured towards me with his left hand which was actually a hook and not a hand at all. Thankfully, the waitress didn't seem to notice the hook since she and the diner's cook had gotten into a heated argument about how many eggs it was appropriate to serve one person.

I pulled my gun back into sight now that the waitress was gone and pointed it at the man in the diving suit. "What was all that about? You trying to be funny?"

"Not funny. Jusssssst Hungry. Wasssssssss waiting in trunk for long time. Waiting for chessssssst."

"What do you know about the chest?"

"Lotssssss. But won't talk until I get eggssssssssss."

I was starting to get angry. Between his ridiculous goggles, his hissing speech, and now his refusal to talk I had had just about enough of this guy. "Listen here, I'm the one with the gun here, and you're going to do what I say; eggs be dammed."

"What will you do? Sssssssssshoot me like you ssssssshot Rory? Won't find out about chesssst then." He seemed unconcerned about my threats of violence, which only made me angrier.

He began to carve into the table with his hook hand as I sat stewing across from him. Before long the waitress returned bearing a large bowl, sloshing with uncooked eggs. She set it down in front of the man in the diving suit and left before either of us had a chance to say anything, her face ashen and disgusted. With his good hand the man in the diving suit picked up the straw (bendy, as requested) and began to suck down the eggs. I tried not to vomit, but between the horrible sucking, smacking sound he was making and the frothing of the eggs in the bowl I threw up a little in my mouth.

"You've got your damn eggs, now tell me everything you know about the chest."

The man in the diving suit paused a moment before saying, "Fine." Before he continued however he picked up the bowl in both hands and drank the rest of the raw eggs in one giant gulp. He set the bowl down with a small thud and continued, "Chesssst isssss in car." He picked up the soaked and yolky toast from the bowl and began eating it.

"What else? You said you would tell me everything you knew." I demanded.

"Nothing. Know where chessssst isssss. That'ssssss it." As he spoke chunks of toast flew out of his mouth and littered the table. The waitress sobbed in the background.

I was enraged. "Are you serious? That's all you can tell me about the chest?"

"Yesssssss. Employer very tight lipped. Hassssss good eggsssss though." The toast was gone, and a slight smile marked the man's face.

"And who," I asked, "might your employer be?"

"Might be lotsssss of people. Never meet employersssss until after job isssss done."

"Stand up. Even if you haven't met him, you have to have a way to find him, or get in contact or something."

The smile disappeared from the man's face. He slowly stood up. I pointed towards the door with the gun. As he began to walk, I pulled some money from my wallet and tossed it down on the table. I noticed he had managed to carve "G was here" into the wood while we were waiting. Noticing he had almost reached the front door I hurried to catch up with him.

As we walked outside into the sweltering heat and blinding light I spoke up. "So, what should I call you? G? or do you prefer something else?"

The man in the diving suit spun around, the shock visible on his face despite the giant goggles. "Sssssssssssssso, not assssss ssssssstupid asssss I thought."

The man in the diving suit moved fast, far faster than I was expecting. He wrenched the gun from my hand, and in one smooth motion had me by the throat once again. I struggled, but this time he had me. The desert slowly began to fade as my vision began to go black. After all this work it was about to end like this. But still, there was one thought going through my mind, running in circles even as I began to run out of air. As I went unconscious I couldn't help but think This is bullshit.

....

The man in the diving suit took the car keys from the unconscious body and walked to the pay phone in the parking lot. He placed one phone call before taking the car and leaving the diner. That call lasted 15 seconds. The only thing the man in the diving suit said before he left was "Sweeney. This is Gibbs. I have the chest."

Part 2 - The Chest

Even I didn't fully understand my decision to head west. Perhaps my choice was influenced most by the enticing thought of warm weather, the allure of a new beginning, or was nothing more than a stray whim from the restless cacophony of thoughts that filled my increasingly troubled mind. But as the splendor of the Rocky Mountains crowded my windshield, I knew I’d made the right choice. I knew that Mr. O’Brian was the right man to give the chest to.

I looked over to the passenger seat, eyeing the silver barrel of the weapon I’d used to dispatch Rory only days earlier. The gun seemed cold and mechanical, almost perverse against the calming backdrop of the mountains. What caught my eye most, however, was the absence of another item, a far more important item. The chest.

I quickly stopped the car in front of a small diner, red dust gathering behind my stationary wheels. The chest had probably fallen behind the seats into the trunk, and it would only take a few moments for me to secure it and continue on my flight away from Rory's rapidly decomposing remains. Wasting no time, I holstered the gun in the front of my pants and popped the trunk, watching the light from the setting sun permeate the tiny, dark space.

Before I had time to survey the enclosure for the small, ornate box in question, a rubbery hand plunged from the blackness and wrapped itself around my unsuspecting neck. As my windpipes struggled to complete my interrupted breath, my eyes poured into the trunk and I was able to catch a glimpse of my assailant. He was muscular, and long strands of thick, curly, blonde hair covered the shoulders of his black wetsuit. An immense pair of round, opaque goggles covered the greater part of his face. I could only guess the look of the malicious expression that likely lay beneath them.

I pulled the gun from my pants, pointing the loaded barrel right into the center of his absurdly goggled face. His rubber hands immediately retreated.

“Out of the trunk,” I said, noticing that he was wearing flippers and had my chest sitting close to an oxygen tank. Where was he headed with its contents?

He complied quickly, his hands in the air despite my lack of a request for it. I motioned toward the diner.

“We’re going to go in there, and have a bite to eat,” I said, regaining composure. I had found myself in a nearly identical situation a few years back, and knew that if I didn’t get information now, I probably never would.

The walk into the diner was slow and laborious, as the muscular stranger was apparently unused to moving in the burdensome flippers. As I did my best to conceal the weapon, an enthusiastic waitress greeted us at our booth.

“What can I get for you today?” she enquired.

I looked at her coldly, already exhausted with the circumstances.

“Can you get me my life back?” I asked her, my unblinking eyes locking with hers.

She seemed confused, and began to point out that no such thing existed on the diner’s menu, but a simple request for three eggs, scrambled, sent her back to the kitchen.

“So,” I said, pointing the gun at my new friend. “Let’s talk.”

Part 1 - The Alley

The walls of the alley pressed in on both sides of me, blocking even the meager light of the sickly, ebbing moon. All around me I could hear the din of the city; the distant, incoherent sounds washing over me like the muttering of a madman. The night air was still, broken only by intermittent gusts of wind. They blew through the alley and their sighing was the death-rattle of this corrupt and decaying metropolis.

My body was numb, and my thoughts were dimmed. Each step I took was like a dull thudding in my mind. The shape of the man in front of me, the man I was following deeper into the alley, was a vague outline in the dark. Only one thing seemed real in that alley: the weight of the gun hidden in my jacket pocket, a weight that threatened to pull me down into the darkness I was struggling to stay afloat in. Its insistent downward tug was the only thing rooting me to this place, this time, this reality.

Ahead of me the man shaped shadow was beginning to slow down. I fought through the haze clouding my thoughts and vision, and forced Rory back into focus. I could see his mouth moving, but couldn't hear what he was saying. My heart was pounding, and the sound was deafening in my ears. The world seemed to slow and shutter as I reached for my gun. My hand wrapped around the cool wood of the handle and I carefully leveled the gun at Rory's head. His mouth still moved, talking endlessly. His arms gestured excitedly and he began to turn. I watched his eyes with a burning intensity, letting the rest of the world fade as I locked onto those two glimmering globes slowly turning towards me and the gun. As his gaze finally landed on the gun I relished how the spark of recognition gave way to fear and confusion as he realized what was happening. At that moment the only thing I hated more than Rory was the fact that I couldn't savor the look in his eyes any longer.

I pulled the trigger and all at once I was alone in the alley, alone with Rory's corpse. I was already walking away by the time his body hit the ground. I could hear siren's in the distance; despite all the evils of this city violent crime was till rare enough to yield a quick response. It didn't really matter though, I would be the time they got here. I had had the foresight to leave the car at the entrance to the alley.

I blinked as I reached the end of the alley and stepped into the pool of light from the streetlamps above. The car was sitting where I had left it and my escape was assured. I got into the car and started to drive. I had no destination other than "away from here." As I steadily put mile after mile between myself and the alley I could feel the past seven years slipping away. As I left the city I turned on the radio, and for the first time since this mess began, I smiled.

New Month, New Posts

The next few posts will be a slight departure from the point/counterpoint format, stick with us and be ready for anything