Chapter #34...Than the Benefactor you Don't by: Nostrum   Epsilon’s picture feels like a threat. Yes, they offered a way out – replacing a member of your family – but they didn’t promise their safety. Conversely, the Organization barely knows you, and that was the first thing they promised – contrary to Epsilon’s claim of being “careless”.
They asked you to choose wisely. You feel this is the wisest choice.
You finished dressing up in a very Tina attire – sleeveless blouse showing her midriff over a hoodie, short shorts and sneakers – and grab up her bookbag. You don’t even bother doing makeup, even if that’s something the real one wouldn’t do except under stress.
As you step down, you see your father oddly waiting for you. “Dad?” you ask. “Shouldn’t you be at work? I can ask for an Uber, y’know.”
“I need to do some work at the main office.” (That is, conveniently, on Tyneside – meaning he’s not going to the Edgefield office two blocks away from high school.) “I figured I could take you to college on the way.”
“Oh, I see...” You look at the basement door while mindlessly ordering your mother. “Mom? Can you put my breakfast to-go? I’ll eat it on the way.”
“Tina, is there something wrong?”
“I just forgot I need to meet with someone, Mom. That’s all.” You check the knob behind the basement door, noticing the haversack with Silva’s clothes. You shove them atop Tina’s bookbag, then return. “Dad, can you leave me at Heinlein Park?”
“Why?” You bob your head – a gesture she does when it’s obvious what she means.
“I think Tina’s saying she has to meet her friend there, honey.”
“Oh... Oh!” Your dad chuckles, trying to ease things. “I didn’t get it at first. Sure, sweetie – I can take you there. It’s close to college, isn’t it?”
“Yes!” You rest Tina’s bookbag on one of the chairs, which you use to lean in. “And thanks for that favor, Dad.”
“Anything for you, my dear.” (That proves Tina has always been your dad’s favorite.)
Your mom hands you a few take-outs with a couple waffles and some fruits, giving you some instructions. “Leave these at your dad’s car. I’ll clean them for you.”
“Don’t worry, Mom – if I arrive before Dad, I’ll clean them up for you.”
“Nonsense! I’ll do it for you – you can do the dishes later if you want to.”
“Why can’t Claire offer to do the dishes?” you drop, jabbing at your little sister. “She can’t expect to live here while she studies and hope you still do chores for her. Or Davey.” you add, roasting yourself as an afterthought.
“Don’t pressure them,” your mother comes to your – well, to Claire and your replacement’s - rescue. “They’ll learn eventually.”
“Yeah, but they can’t expect me to do their chores...” You know this discussion will lead nowhere, so you kiss your mom before grabbing everything. “See you later, Mom.”
“See you later, sweetie.” She kisses you back, and it feels like last time. It hurts being unable to tell them you’re doing all this for them. You grab her bookbag and your take-outs, knowing that once again, you might never see them again.
--
“Call me if you need me.” That and a kiss were the last interaction with your father. You thank Providence for this little gesture, and for letting you tell him what you feel, even if through Tina.
“I know. And thanks, Dad. For everything.” You drag her bookbag and close the door, seeing the last remnant of your family fading away.
Heinlein Plaza has a strangely European feel to it. Geographically, it’s the center of Tyneside; a flat, depressed slab of cement surrounded by trees that safeguard it from the noise and pollution (to an extent). A handful of trees dot the landscape, offering shade to visitors in the summer and a spectacle of icicles in winter.
The park was named in honor of one of Tyneside’s founders, Jeremiah Heinlein, a German-born Jewish banker who’s considered the architect of Tyneside’s financial growth. (The others are pastor Martin Ironside, earl of Tyne, and Henry Edgefield, a famous Black Civil War vet.) The faces of all three founders are embedded in relief at the obelisk marking the exact center of town, one on each side with a plaque that commemorates their contributions, while the last side has their most famous sayings etched in.
It is as you approach the obelisk that your burner phone starts ringing. You check, and it’s a private number – most likely, the Organization. You look around, hoping to see your contact, as you answer. “Yes?”
“WE SEE YOU. YOUR DECISION TO COME MEANS YOU HAVE ACCEPTED THE MISSION.”
“Hey,” you question the voice. “I haven’t accepted anything. We’re supposed to discuss--”
The voice conveniently ignores you. “YOUR MISSION IS TO RECLAIM THE STOLEN BLUEPRINTS CONTAINING DESIGNS FOR PROPRIETARY TECHNOLOGY.”
You check that no one’s around, then mutter. “You mean, the C-Sets.”
The voice ignores you again. “OUR DATA SUGGESTS EPSILON IS THE BEST WAY TO FIND THE BLUEPRINTS. FIND EPSILON AND PURSUE ITS TRAIL. KEEP US INFORMED.”
“Epsilon’s not gonna want to meet with me. They mentioned that--”
“YOU WILL SEE A MAN WITH A BRIEFCASE SITTING AT AN ANGLE OF 45 DEGREES FROM THE OBELISK. HE WILL GIVE YOU FURTHER DETAILS.”
Goddammit, now I have to figure out with geometry? “Can you at least tell me from which direction--?”
“AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS. WE WILL KEEP YOUR FAMILY SAFE. IF YOU SUCCEED, THE ANDERSON FAMILY WILL BE PLACED ON STRICT NON-INTERVENTION.”
“Uh... thanks?”
“FAILURE WILL BE CATASTROPHIC. WE EXPECT YOUR SUCCESS.” The phone hangs, making you think this was an automated call. But they’re very insistent. Non-intervention? Does that mean the Organization won’t become any of your family members?
To your fortune, only one tree is at a 45-degree angle from the obelisk, and just as the call said, there is a man holding a briefcase. They didn’t mention there was one in each bench, but at least one has two such people, so that discounts it.
As you approach, you see one of the men looking at you. “Tina Anderson?” he calls you, and as you nod, he stands. “Please, follow me.”
“So...” As you’re out of earshot, you ask him. “You’re my contact?”
“My name is Donald Haskins. I’m here for your job interview.”
Interview? “Uh, is the interview about that job?”
“You applied for a job at Greenview Holdings.” (That sounds like something Tina would do. Greenview Holdings is a well-known importing group, the kind that Tynemouth Business graduates almost always end up.)
“Right, right...” You follow suit, looking around in case someone follows you. No one does, and you follow him to a nearby Starbucks before leading you to a limousine, of all places.
Once inside, the man crosses his leg and looks at the driver. “Privacy, please.”
As the window closes, you finally confront him. “Alright, what’s the job?”
“I think you know already.” He taps the briefcase after setting the cups aside.
“What’s in that briefcase?”
“Some documents I need you to sign. I must disclose that this isn’t a contract, but it has non-disclosure agreements. Standard fare.”
“I see...” You pull over Tina’s bookbag, looking for something to sign, when you hear the man clearing his throat.
“I’m afraid we must ask you to sign with our own pens.” He shows you an exact copy of the black pen.
“But those have no point. I can’t sign with them.”
“Understood.” He grabs the tray of drinks, offering you one. “Coffee? Tea? Chocolate?”
You see the last one, being the only clear cup. “I want the smoothie.”
“Good.” He hands you the cup, then says nothing. He just observes you.
And that gives you the creeps. “This is gonna knock me out, isn’t it?” You see no response from him, but you notice he doesn’t seem to act as wooden as a cloned replacement. “Just so you know, I’m wearing a couple layers.”
“Is there something wrong with the drink? I can exchange it.”
You’re slowly noticing this is a “no questions asked” company, so you sigh. “Just don’t ruin my sister’s day, willya?”
“We will take care of your sister,” he finally confirms. “And of Ms. Phelps as well.”
Confident that you’re dealing with one of their members, you stick the straw and take a sip. “And the rest?”
He says nothing. He just waits until you feel woozy, then you feel his hands grabbing you as everything goes dark.
--
What the hell...? You wake up, naked, on a comfy bed with a familiar smell. Your eyes are still getting used to the blur, but this feels familiar to you.
As you stand, you feel a familiar unbalance. Two small weights on your chest, and a torrent of hair falling upon you. Did I sleep wearing someone else now?
You try looking for a mirror as your eyesight clears. You see a very familiar face, and it shocks you. It’s Adrienne. Naked.
You check around, only to notice it’s a room similar to that of the safehouse. You check outside, noticing subtle similarities and differences. This must be one of their safehouses, judging by the design.
You notice the briefcase, though, and you search it. There are some papers, yes, but also some interesting things.
A smartphone, from a lesser-known brand. A Glock 17, just like the one Epsilon stole from you, with five magazines. A trio of black credit cards, from each major company, pre-paid. Two sets of keys, one with the logo of a car.
The standard agent package, Silva’s voice tells you. But, how do you know?
It’s only as you notice on a corner why you know. There are two pens. One black, and one brown. And, strangely, a third one.
A yellow pen. One that Silva immediately recognizes. Why are they giving me a DMTP signal blocker? You have the following choice: 1. Continue |
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