G66
When Jane came to, the room was completely dark. She heard the low hum of voices reciting prayers in an unknown language, although to Jane it seemed familiar. She was sitting down now and noticed that the floor was made of steel bars in a spiral pattern. There was a haze of light reflecting up from an unknown depth and it illuminated the bars slightly. It seemed that the light was gaining luminosity ever so slowly, and it flickered like a camp fire against the bars. Jane saw that the inner point of the spiral began just beneath her and then extended itself until it met the walls of the room... as if she was in the center of a giant grill. Her wrists were cuffed to the steel bars on each side of her. The bars were cold and dead, a complete contrast to the place she had woken up from. She remembered the shamanac figure in the jungle and the way it spoke to her, with it’s voice of trailed echoes. That voice would save her from the surrounding drone of the room’s voodoo prayer, but that voice was gone now... and the light from below was growing brighter.
Back at Hell
I agreed to see him only because he had come alone and part of me was bound to respect the emergence of guts in anyone. He would have had to walk through our house of hanging corpses accompanied by members of my army... and then he would have to face me.
Novocaine walked into my corner and I could tell by the expression on his face that he didn’t know me. We were strangers. For a split second his smile flashed in my head but I blew it away with an imaginary gun... I used to be so sentimental. "Someone escaped from an institution in Alligator Alley. His name’s Domingo Santiago.", Novocaine talked without hesitation, but he didn’t seem able to look me in the eyes for long. "Domingo said that something strange happened to him while he was escaping. He had a surreal experience with an entity that hopped out of another patient’s television. The name of that other patient was Jane according to the ID tag he saw in the room."
I knew what he was getting at so I just nodded my head. He added, "Some of us are leaving tonight to get her out of there. I wanted to let you know ‘cause I knew you two were tight."
He didn’t know if we were tight. He didn’t know me when I knew her, and I don’t think I talked about her all that much anyway. I wanted to know why they were so interested in her so I asked, "What about Sir Jane is making you all decide to finally risk your necks?" Novocaine dodged my comment with straight talking. He said flatly, "She’s been a prominent figure in some of Jimmy’s more apocalyptic visions. Pat also claims that Sir Jane influenced her to the path she’s leading with The Replacement System."
"Pat’s not someone I’d trust with any rational decision.", I stated, "And Jimmy sees all sorts of shit in his visions. So what makes you so sure she’s important?" Novocaine exclaimed, "I got a gut feeling about it, Man!" His comment forced me to look at his belly and I felt laughter well up inside of me. I fought it and I fought well, but I was strained from the effort... It was painful. When I looked up at him I saw my old friend for a second and he saw a tear running from my eye... then he did something he never should have done. Novocaine looked at me like someone looks at someone who is broken and weak. I saw sympathy in his eyes fully directed at someone he didn’t understand. Someone he wouldn’t understand, and the coward couldn’t look me in the eyes, so how could I trust him to die for me?!
I screamed at him! I let him know I was there- seconds went by before my men arrived to escort him out. My men believed in me. They were pure... that could see that I was strong. There’s not enough time in this day and age to work through feelings, and that’s all Novocaine is- one big feeling. Sooner or later they’re gonna get to him. They’re gonna throw him down on the pavement, stick a gun up his ass and fire. There goes Novocaine... I know all they do over there is listen to music, fuck, and play games. My game’s different. My game protects their game. And they do nothing for me.
There’s only one way I could keep things together without getting us killed. I had thought before that a small, separate military unit could protect all of us but I was clearly wrong. The enemy already had information on us– there were actual billboards of Darkwing! The Others were careless animals without someone to guide them, and I would be forced to extend my hand yet further during these delicate times we were in. When they returned I would assume command over all of us until we stood a chance to survive. It was my only choice.
Darkwing Regains Consciousness
He was lying in bed, sore all over. His eyes focused just enough to notice. The room was changing. Darkwing just stared straight ahead and watched the stucco walls turn to plaster and then brick, stone, porcelain, wood. The furniture in his line of vision appeared, disappeared, then reappeared into something else. The window filled itself in with glass which melted into screen, and then formed into bars only to disappear again. Decorations shifted apart, broke down, and then recreated themselves. Each version of the room he was in took a matter of seconds to form into another... and then he noticed himself.
Darkwing’s arm was forming over and over again in pace with the changing room. Muscular, weak, thin, and fat. Different shades of his own color blending from his present Darkness to a light coffee and cream. He hesitated to lift the sheet a little but it was moving along with his body, changing colors and texture. Darkwing watched his body change and he could feel it shifting in and out of itself like mixing batter. He looked to his side and sure enough, he wasn’t alone in bed. She was changing too... Some of the faces that formed he recognized and could place a name with. Others he couldn’t, but they were all familiar. Darkwing stared at her and the room in a perplexed expression of calm. Her eyes were open, but she paid no attention to him. She looked to be in a smooth ecstacy, with a variety of smiles, each infused with it’s own individual expression.
She decided to look at him and when she did he was taken aback. A stare from the woman he had most loved in all of his existence gripped him like a croc’s jaws. He gasped her name without knowing it, "Leyrana?" Somewhere in his daze he remembered the look in her eyes. It was the only perfection he knew... that look. Pure, unbounded love, gentle and somehow lost from anything in any place. She pulled up close to him and called him by the name she used to call him, "Yihro, oh..."
Darkwing, now Yihro, began to cry softly. She was almost too much to bare. She climbed onto him and cried herself into a frenzy, gently crying his name over and over. They found each other’s bodies and leapt into each other like addicts, both crying and moaning gently at the same time. Darkwing was about to climax but he felt her go limp beneath him. When he lifted his head up to see her, he froze. White friction traveled along his spine spreading throughout his body rendering him weak. Leyrana was not beneath him anymore,... someone else was.
He had known this woman also... an even longer time ago. He had no name to put to this face, but this one was perhaps just as ingrained. His name was Barlow then, and the woman below him had been his victim. He had bought her, raped her, and killed her all in one night. He looked on in terror at her face stained with blood and tears. A desperate gurgling sound ended as her face grew pale and he could feel her grow cold beneath him! He looked down and saw blood soaking the sheets. He looked up and saw his reflection on a mirror- it was him, Barlow!
Darkwing jumped back and screamed although he couldn’t take his eyes off of the dead girl. He sat up on the edge of the bed in a cold sweat, shaking, and sobbing in quiet hysterics. He looked at himself in the mirror across the room and ordered his reflection to change. It wouldn’t. His eyes caught a glimpse of the corpse from the mirror. He felt a chill rush through him. It was smiling. He turned to see the corpse staring at him with a mischievous smile on her lips. She pulled back a corner of the sheet and inside of his head like a thunderous bolt struck, "Lets sleep in, Baby." Darkwing winced, and found the strength to shake his head no- but that’s all... she had him.
Che’ra’ s Find
"Faces are changing a man is still lost in space. Lonely unapproachable now he moves towards his fate. Under the alley of one frozen cold. The lies from her lips over years have kept us all stoned.
What’s a little life Got a little life let a little life go
What’s a little life Got a little life let a little life go
What’s a little life Got a little life let a little life go away...
Swing set is swinging the playground’s empty and cold Grown up unapproachable now Children are tools for the known
What’s a little life Got a little life let a little life go
What’s a little life Got a little life let a little life go
What’s a little life Got a little life let a little life go away...
Image the ultimate drug Well, how do I look and I say in a way You look like you should. You look like you should.
What’s a little life Got a little life let a little life go
What’s a little life Got a little life let a little life go
What’s a little life Got a little life let a little life go away...
Che’ra lifted her thumb to her face to catch a single, falling tear. As she eased her hand away she noticed it. There was blood on her thumb. In the back of her mind warning signals went off so she quickly walked over to the mirror on the bathroom door. There was a small splotch of blood below her eye, but it didn’t look like the blood was running from her eye. After wiping it off with a moist towelette there was no blood at all, no damage. Her eyes were bloodshot though... and her skin was worn like dead leather. Dark circles created age around her eyes and stopped where someone’s laugh lines would usually begin.
Che’ra’s gaze dropped lower because she spotted more blood. Just below her knee it had soaked through her pajama pants and some of the blood reached her bare foot. She knew the wound was self inflicted, but she thought it hadn’t been deep enough to need a bandage. Well, she was wrong. After pulling up her pajama pant she had second thoughts about cleaning and dressing the wound. Her blood added color to her life, or so she’d thought in recent weeks.
Che’ra re-poured a glass of wine and sat back down in her recliner. The Replacement System was waiting. She discovered the name of the band from one of her most recent recordings. The breakthrough was a locator she designed to travel around the body under the skin to keep anyone from shutting it off easily. For over an hour she heard her appointed spy nervously spill her guts to the others who were trying to calm her down. The spy was screaming at them to, "Find the locator! It was under my left armpit but now it’s gone! Oh my God, they’ll find you if you don’t just kill me! Please, kill me and burn my body! They’re on to you!"
Che’ra was quite amused at hearing this, and she also noted that they did not kill her spy. They made their intentions clear as they patiently searched for the locator. Their intentions were to question the woman and then take her in as one of their own. Che’ra managed to record and amplify over an hour of music from this band called The Replacement System. It was barely audible when she heard it live, but now she knew a few songs in their complete form... she even had a favorite. It called to her as the wine went to her head. She put on her head phones and lit a cigarette. Then she pressed play.
"She’s out of her body again Staring out at moonlit coves
Wading through the dirt in search of animal bones
Placing the ones she likes deep in her memory Far from the damaged place the doctors use in therapy
They’ll be inside with cocaine and wine Feeding the children on which they will dine...
A friend that she looks on now and then is with a stranger in the barn They’re still trying to find God within a deck of playing cards And when he draws a joker after 20 years of losing face Her old friend’s on his knees again blocking out the stranger’s taste
Replacing it with tree tops and carnivals in the snow anywhere but where the eyes of God might go...
Here in Jane’s dimension of gathered laughs Men of the cloth are roadies for the big rock band
And taxi drivers sit you down and make you think What if someone’s tear drop found it’s way into your dream...
She knows she must go back they’re calling her away Pulled through rotted walls behind eyes afraid
Staring across a room that’s barely lit Waiting for the stranger Ready to get hit
They’ll be inside with cocaine and wine
Feeding the children on which they will dine...
Che’ra started crying, she had remembered the dream that woke her up an hour ago. It was more of a series of dreams than just one. Each a basic memory of her childhood with her grandmother in whatever usual routine they were in. Cooking breakfast, walking down the street chatting, sewing, and reading, getting ready for the day. In the dreams she saw herself with her grandmother chattering away and then her grandmother’s jaw dropped off, revealing electronics and circuitry. In one dream Che’ra simply laughed, and in an endearing way placed it back on her grandmother’s face... but from dream to dream her grandmother’s condition progressed. Larger chunks fell off of her face and the whirls and clicking sounds of a robotic skull grew louder. Eventually the Che’ra of the dream became completely terrified at the expressionless robot in front of her, still holding a pan of eggs. She screamed, waking our Che’ra out of bed.
Back to Work
Che’ra arrived at the main intelligence center located in Albany, NY. It was less than 48 hours previously that she had first listened to the barely audible mini- concert of The Replacement System, and she was burning to find out anything she could about her grandmother.
Che’ra’s access code was accepted in the main frame but any information she requested on herself or her grandmother was denied. She kicked her chair across the room and screamed, "Aaargh!" Immediately a peon entered the room and she snarled, "Go fuck yourself!" The peon took a second to process the information and promptly left. Che’ra went back to the mainframe and started to experiment, but after 20 minutes the whole system froze and a personal message appeared on the screen: "Che’ra Gonzales return to your room immediately. There is a message for you concerning the condition of your grandmother that is urgent."
For a moment she felt the urge to return. It was a frightened shaky feeling that gripped her but it only lasted a few seconds, then was replaced by what some may describe as a gentle madness. Che’ra calmly went up to the computer and removed her still bloody foot from it’s boot. She placed her foot on the mainframe and used her fingers to reopen the wound. Her blood spilled out onto the mainframe controls and Che’ra whispered out loud, "Take it. Take it all. You already have me."
The screen fluttered and a new message appeared, "Yes Sir... What can I do for you?" Che’ra’s eyes bugged out of her head. She put her bloody foot back in the boot and typed, "Che’ra Gonzales’ File." There appeared on the computer her face and information. "Oh my God!", she screamed, "Oh my fucking God!" A peon entered the room and Che’ra smiled at him. It’s lifeless stare failed to pick up the hints of blood smeared on her face and pooled up on the floor. She said, "Mr. Peon, please go out and find another peon and then have a conversation." The peon stuttered and then replied, "Yes Ma’am." He left the room to find another peon.
Che’ra turned back to the computer. She was already filled with dread, but she had to face it... and there it was: "Che’ra Gonzales- Session 1."
G66
The cold bars reminded Jane of death. Her bare feet and legs rested on the steel in frigid discomfort as the room remained filled with the chanting of more death. They had been at it for over an hour now, who or whatever they were. Jane could make out the entire chamber with the increasing luminosity approaching from below the bars. All she saw were stone walls lined with unknown tools, except for 8 uniform doorways.
Two peons entered from the doorway in front of her accompanied by the nurse. The nurse walked over to where Jane was at the center of the spiral, and then began counting each spiral bar as she walked from the center of the room. She stopped at the 15th spiral. The peons walked to each side of her and when she extended her arms, they reached into their pockets and each one handed her a pair of handcuffs. The nurse then bent down and handcuffed both her arms on the 15th spiral. Then the man in the gray hat walked in. He walked in like the guy who owned the place, not even paying attention to his footing on the bars below.
"Jane", he said methodically with that indecipherable hint of arrogance, "I’m afraid you’re not responding to our original plan of therapy..." He stared down at her. "We’re going to try something different."
Although the man in the gray hat held a calm demeanor, he was raging inside. As long as this "Jane" lived, his replacement system could not be complete. She was tied to everything. The opposing catalyst with the assumed name Patricia was still invisible to his machines, and only something as sinister as a demonic whore had the power to obstruct such an identity. She was tied to his son Ray. How could she get so close to him? Why was she so strong at concealing what she knew? Did she know herself? He remembered the security tape of her room during Domingo’s escape. "Jane" just laid there in bed apparently unaware of the boy’s presence outside her window. She didn’t stir and yet the boy disappeared from her window in a flash, nowhere to be found. The devil must work through her, he thought. She may have no idea...
‘Never the less’, he thought, ‘she must be destroyed prematurely if she can’t be contained. Gerald will have to be called. It takes a demon to kill a demon... I’ll have to rebuild cities and keep it amused, another pain in my ass. This better work-’ Suddenly he froze, concentrating on keeping his posture in tact. Was he actually talking out loud just then or was he thinking? Frustration welled it’s way inside and began to pry him apart. He knew he had to do something. He was in danger of looking ridiculous... which he wasn’t.
The man in the gray hat whirled around facing the wall, but on his first 2 attempts to make a sound he just gasped and wheezed. Terror turned to fury and a violent screech erupted from his throat, "Aaaarrck!" On cue the peons went to the wall and brought back 2 machetes. The nurse broke out of whatever trance she was in at seeing them and began to pull against the cuffs screaming. They stood on each side of her, and before they struck her down both recited, "Man is 5." Jane passed out.
When she woke up again she was in a different position, not at the center of the floor. Both hands were cuffed as they were before but on a different bar of the spiral. She counted from the bar she was cuffed to until the center, 21. Across the room she saw the peons finish pushing the woman’s limbs through the bars. It was so unreal, yet she knew it was real- she felt it. Jane wished she would have dreamt during her short blackout. Whoever it was she saw in her last dream made her feel like there was something else, something permanently grounded in balance. This was certainly not balance.
The man in the gray hat stared at her from across the room, eyes burrowing into her. She could sense something was off with him but that was all. Jane wasn’t used to the heavy stench of blood in the air, but it didn’t bother her either. She remembered it’s taste and smell from her previous feedings, which were mostly animal, but there was a building sense of cruelty that smothered her. It permeated cell by cell, mounting pressure as it dissolved the outer membrane of her mind. She was beginning to stare off- and that’s exactly what he planned for her to do.
Leaving the Warehouse
It was quiet in the playpen for an hour before they left. The Replacement System had stopped playing, and no one really had any idea of what to say. Twenty people were packing up, readying to go. Tyrone, Novocaine, Jack, Jimmy, and Domingo were among them.
Annie grabbed Jack by the hand, looking her dead in the eyes. There was a pissed off look of desperation on her face, "It’s not fair that you’re going, Jack." Tears welled up as she pleaded, "We both know you’re going because of the guilt. You’re going ‘cause you wanna die, Jack." Jack stared back. "You’d go too, if you could Annie", she thought, but she didn’t say it. Instead she got down on her knees and hugged Annie saying, "I’m not gonna die. I don’t wanna die, Annie... but if I don’t go, I might start wanting it."
"Fuck, fuck Jack...", Annie sobbed. She grabbed at Jack’s coat like a child and tugged violently, "Look at me, Jack! I’m a big cripple... Go on and get your ass out of here!" Annie had broken down and the sight of her started a pain in Jack’s gut. She took her eye patch off and said sweetly, "Baby, we ain’t that different- Look at me!" Jack’s dead eye stared out into space while the other looked Annie in the eyes. Only Jack’s good eye had a tear running from it. "Do you still like this face?", she asked. Annie nodded yes. "And I still like you and your wobbly legs.", cried Jack. Then they were both crying until one of them snorted. Then they started laughing and the other one snorted, which started them crying again. When they looked up, everyone was staring at them dead pan. Tyrone and Novocaine had a tear in each of their eyes. They haphazardly glanced at each other and immediately averted their eyes.
Danny interrupted, "You guys better come back safe and bring Sir Jane with you. And if you see that boy Ray I told you about... you bring him too. I’d go with you too but my lupus is acting up... and besides, Pat needs me here." She took a drag of a cigarette, "Be careful of The Man." Pat looked up and mumbled something unintelligible to Tyrone who looked back shyly at her and replied with something equally unintelligible. Pat nodded somberly. Jimmy walked toward the exit and called, "Come on everybody, we better get going. I’m interested in meeting this Sir Jane in person... and alive." He wondered where Darkwing was really at, or if they were all headed to a dead end.
Twenty people left in 3 vans. They followed Domingo to the spot where the body of the hitchhiker had been on the road. The body was gone, but Domingo pointed out the blood on the pavement and the clothes on the fence by the woods. Domingo relayed the projected path he thought he had traveled from the institution. He suggested driving another 5 miles and then cutting into the swampy woods. He thought they could reach their destination in a little over an hour.
The group cut through the fence to Alligator Alley with wire cutters, and began trouncing through the swamp using special stilts that Bob had made for them. It took them about an hour to cut through to the institution, just as Domingo had estimated. The 20 foot high electric fence proved to be easy enough to pass also. Once again, one of Bob’s inventions proved effective. Neutralizing clay was placed on the fence to outline an area the size of a large doorway. Once it was secured and the bars within tested, the fence was cut away within the neutral space. Only 40 yards to the main doorway.
Quagmire
He was worn out... mentally and physically. He had been beaten, raped, tortured, and drained over and over again. He suffered pain in the form of pleasure and intimacy because the girth of what she gave was too much for him. Darkwing was cracking and he knew it. He also knew that she didn’t empathize with or understand anything that was going on. Reality to her was something to play with, not to care about. Darkwing had repeatedly exclaimed the importance of what he had come to her for and how dire it was for her to reclaim her alternate self. She looked at him the way a curious child would as he pleaded desperately for her cooperation... and she never said a word. She simply changed the game.
Darkwing was sitting on the edge of the bed covered in someone’s blood when he made his break for it. Like a bullet he shot towards the balcony and leapt up in flight- she was quicker. His head rolled on the ground and his body fell flat. She remained in bed for a moment remembering what happened. It only took her a flick of her finger to detach his head from across the room. So easy... and now she was bored.
The creature rose out of bed and walked over to the head on the ground. She picked it up and looked at it. She liked his face. Casually, she went back to the bed and laid down, cradling the head in her arms. The creature stared into it’s eyes because she knew for awhile they could see. It dawned on her... that she knew too much. She knew all about the man who belonged to the head in her hands and it made her wonder about the rest of the people he knew. She wanted to meet them also...
With a flick of her mind, Darkwing’s headless body stood up on the balcony. She kissed the forehead in her hands then flung it across the room where it appropriately landed on his neck. Darkwing’s eyes changed from glazed to alive and for a split second there was the oddest look on his face.
After he flew off the balcony she chuckled to herself... it was the oddest look. Then she followed along, excited at getting to meet his friends.
After the Truth
She had been staring at the paused computer screen for 40 minutes. It was a compulsion now, a lock in disbelief. There, on the screen, a younger version of herself stood. She was surrounded by white walls and stood face to face with the suspended head of her grandmother. It was horrible... but it worked, Che’ra thought. She couldn’t accept reality after that. From that moment on she was only a pawn in their game. She remembered part of the song, her favorite-
"And when he draws a joker after 20 years of losing face
Her old friend’s on his knees again, blocking out the stranger’s taste
Replacing it with tree tops and carnivals in the snow
Anywhere but where the eyes of God might go."
Che’ra laid her head down on the keyboard for a moment... but just for a moment. She picked it up, leaned back in her chair and lit a cigarette. With her cigarette she pointed to the computer and said, "You’re my enemy now, and I’m going to make a worthy adversary."
Che’ra cut it down to basics. "First thing’s first, What changed me? Duration of time without answers? Grandmother? No. The man in the gray hat? No. Curiosity with the Others? Maybe... but what did I experience from them except the music and a mild observation of compassion? The music came first... The music."
The situation with the spies became clear to her. They had shut off their own locators because of the music. The music uncovered the lie instantly... but it didn’t work instantly with her. "It took me months of listening...", she thought out loud, "but it was barely audible until I reprocessed it. Maybe it lost something through the process? Not until the other day when I heard it clear and live did-" Another electrical charge fired across the best synapse of her brain and she knew purely without doubt that playing The Replacement System live across all media channels was the only chance she had of unraveling her opponent.
Che’ra tapped in to see what plans the man in the gray hat had for those warehouses. It was bad... He was sending a mercenary of some sort to assassinate them after the execution of an Other patient. Her name was known to Che’ra, Jane, but the mercenary’s name was Gerald... and she had never heard of him before. How would one man destroy hundreds of people who would most likely have the means to arm themselves? Maybe Gerald was just a code word for a Special Ops. platoon? Worse yet, everything was going to happen that night. The execution was set for 3:33 AM, and immediately following it would be the destruction of the warehouses.
Che’ra had to act immediately, but she had no way of getting there on time. She was stuck in New York and the time was already 2:16 AM- which meant there was no time. "Fuck!", she yelled. A peon that was guarding her door left with a, "Yes, Ma’am." It gave Che’ra an idea. "Of course, the peons!", she thought. Che’ra used the main frame to connect with Miami headquarters. She ordered all the peons to the warehouse immediately. They were to invade the warehouse without weapons because an armed army would most likely be arriving shortly after they did. Her hope was that The Replacement System would wake them up and they’d spill their guts about the platoon that was following. This in turn should frighten everyone out of the warehouses so that when the Gerald platoon arrives The Replacement System will be spared!
Che’ra went back to the mainframe after giving her orders. She knew the peons would take a long time just preparing to leave. It would be a miracle if they arrived at the warehouses within the hour, so she took another possibility into her own hands. The Replacement System- getting it onto mainstream media outlets- just in case that possibility would die tonight.
Once again Che’ra used the mainframe for information on the warehouses. She knew about the satellite connection there, but it had no audio inputs that could connect to a mainframe frequency. The only use they had made of the satellite was to pinpoint the location of the warehouse in the first place.
It occurred to Che’ra at that point that the man in the gray hat wanted the warehouses in tact for a special purpose. She checked it out on the computer. The purpose of the warehouse was simply described as "Diversion". "Diversion for what?", she asked out loud.
It didn’t matter. She had no time. She analyzed the components of the satellite using the mainframe and found her loophole. If she could change the connection from the mainframe and then reprogram it, it was possible to change the surveillance system to audio via the mainframe. The audio signal would transmit from the hardware of the satellite to the audio inputs of the mainframe, allowing her to transmit through the mainframe across all channels. If she was lucky, The Replacement System would be playing at that exact time. If not, well...
Che’ra went to work with less time than was humanly possible, so she quickened her pace to super human. Her spirit found the strength to keep her fingers moving as fast as her mind. Sweat and tears poured down her face. Her concentration was at the point of painful and she didn’t notice, but she was whimpering softly.
Other thoughts were trying to get into her head but she wouldn’t let them. Thoughts like time and reason. Thoughts about her grandmother, and herself, and the man in the gray hat, and the fate of everything- but she sealed the door shut. She existed for about half an hour in a state of pure mental pain. Her eyes were blood shot and a tear of blood ran down one of her cheeks unnoticed. Her head was hot... it burned inside... it ached. At 3:17 AM she finished making the connection. Immediately she prepared for the broadcast. She could hear The Replacement System, they were playing! For one instant Che’ra lost herself in a trance of the music but she found the strength to slam her hand down on the button that started the broadcast.
It was 3:23AM! The Replacement System was connected to anyone in the world who was watching TV, or listening to the radio... but after 10 seconds they stopped playing! Che’ra heard unintelligible shouts from the warehouse instead. Someone announced from the microphone that everyone had to evacuate immediately- then there were just the sounds of a mass evacuation. "10 seconds", she thought, "Just 10 seconds". It struck her that if the peons warned everyone in time she might never know, ‘cause Che’ra was passing out. Her own screen of vision went black.
Those 10 Seconds
On the night Che’ra broadcasted The Replacement System, there happened to be a lot of people awake and tuned in to some type of broadcasting. Almost 31 and a half percent of the controlling country’s population were awake in fact, which was quite uncommonly high. There was a lunar eclipse occurring between 3 and 3:30 in the AM. It had been unannounced, but for that half an hour many people woke up and stirred about uncomfortably because the tides of their own bodies pulled at them from the inside.
Peace Force members, business men and women, teachers, politicians, and the many unemployed were members of this group- a good cross section of everyone. Everyone had a different reaction, and to varying degrees. Some people felt a shiver run down their spine, and others experienced nervous ticks for a few seconds. There were some who had sudden crying jags and stomach ailments, as well as lightheadedness, and temporary shortness of breath. Oddly enough there were outbreaks of spontaneous exercise, including push ups and jumping jacks. A few people took their clothes off and started to walk outside, but they all stopped short realizing how ludicrous of an idea it was. Everyone acted out momentarily, the majority for not more than a few seconds, and there were even those who didn’t act out at all. Many stared off during the broadcast and for a moment after it, then promptly went to bed feeling tired at last.
There were of course the few who couldn’t sleep for the whole night afterwards. There was the slightest occurrence of complete mental derangement for varied lengths of time, and even a few suicides. In general though, by no means was that the common reaction. It was a mostly subtle change... at least for that night.
G66
She sat there, allowing him to stare into her. "He’s a man wearing a plain gray hat", she thought, "I wonder if he knows that?" Her observations arrived slowly in a fog of sorrow and fear. The idea behind the blood was getting to her, through her, creating a gap in her attention because of it’s presence. She was losing an unknown battle, the battle of awareness... and then he brought Ray in.
It appeared as if the man in the gray hat had little to do with it. Ray walked in on his own accord following 2 peons, but when he noticed her, his emotions fell apart. With flowing tears he ran over to her screaming, "I’m sorry! Oh my God, I’m sorry! They have me! They have me!" Before he could reach her, just before, the man in the gray hat commanded, "Ray stop." He didn’t have to raise his voice... Ray stopped. "You’ll have time for girls later.", he condescended, "There are plenty in Hell."
Ray wasn’t quiet as he made his way to the 18th spiral. He screamed at himself, he screamed at the peons, he screamed at the man in the gray hat because he knew the man in the gray hat wasn’t his father. He was a god... an evil god. The man had dissolved in him and what remained owned Ray. Jane knew this also... although she didn’t know why.
The peons handed Ray the cuffs, and Ray took them. He locked each wrist onto the 18th spiral. Ray was livid, yet he was silent and his body was shaking uncontrollably. In a frantic stupor Ray tried to play the game of his mind. Not to win, but for a possible feel for the controls. Twice he slammed his head against a bar but when the man in the gray hat told him not to, he stopped.
"Aarrraaock!" A peon walked over and laid a knife across 2 bars within Jane’s grasp. Then both peons stood on each side of Ray, just out of his grasp. The man in the gray hat casually strutted across the bars. He looked somber now, stoic. He was holding on to the look of a fallen hero and believing it. "Jane... it’s not your fault that all of this is happening. It’s the fault of your existence... and it’s my fault, for allowing you to exist." He believed what he was saying. It was almost beyond hate. "I am left with my last choice."
Another peon appeared from a corridor and addressed the man in the gray hat, "Sir. They’ve broken through ahead of schedule."
"Are there more than was estimated?"
"No. There are 20 of them."
The man in the gray hat sneered rigidly, "Then what is the difficulty, peon?"
"Everyone’s afraid."
"Of what?"
"Something is screaming into everyone’s heads so they can’t breathe or think."
"What’s screaming?!", the man in the gray hat shouted, "Show me!"
Before he left, he gave the peons watching Ray a certain look.
The Battlefield
They would have been sitting ducks standing on the floor of the room past the main entrance. The stairwells above were full of armed peons who had been waiting to pick off half of the group as they walked in.
The man in the gray hat only viewed the area for a moment before he had to retreat himself. Every peon was either doubled over holding their heads or running about aimlessly in perfect terror. The voice of a demonic whore growled into his ears, "I’m coming... I’m coming now..." The man in the gray hat thought he recognized something in it’s twisted sardonic tone. The fear it evoked was quite unsettling to him.
A peon was waiting in the room where the man in the gray hat retreated to. He grabbed the peon and pulled a sharp instrument out of it’s pocket. "I’m going to impale your ears.", he said with assertion, "After I do, you must take this and impale the ears of every other peon. Any further orders will be displayed on monitors or else written." The peon replied, "Yes Sir." The man in the gray hat looked at the tool for a second and then handed it to the peon, "Impale yourself." The peon concurred, screaming, and then left to carry out it’s duties.
The peons were surprisingly receptive to being impaled. Flashes of pain transformed into the standard dull look they were accustomed to and immediately after, they began to take aim and fire. They knocked off half of the Others, but not before Novocaine and Domingo made it to the corridor that led to Jane. The rest of them were sitting ducks if they left their cover.
Novocaine and Domingo were at top speed. Peons began to appear in the corridors, jumping out from side doorways, but to no avail. Novocaine twisted and turned without contact, peons slipping off him and tripping on themselves. Domingo controlled the impact, using what looked like self-abusive maneuvers to thwart them. He’d fling himself against the wall spinning in a way that flung them across Novocaine’s back. The peons probably would have been better off if they weren’t armed... but they were.
They were getting towards the end of the corridor when they saw countless peons waiting for them up ahead, guns pointed. Twenty or so shots were fired. Bullets sped down the corridor. There were doorways on each side of Novocaine and Domingo. A peon jumped out from each doorway just in time to make an accidental shield for the 2. Novocaine leapt through one doorway. Domingo through another. Both of them were grazed by bullets. They stared at each other through the doorway entrances for a moment then Novocaine yelled, "I’m gonna work my way up through the rooms!" Domingo nodded.
It worked through one room, but then each was left at a dead end. Domingo backtracked to the previous room and then hurled himself across the hallway, practically bouncing himself of the heads of a half a dozen peons. Novocaine met him there and sealed the door behind him, as Domingo tried to shut the hallway door. A bullet ripped through Domingo’s arm before Novocaine threw himself against the door, sealing it securely. "You alright, man?", Novocaine asked, though he could barely breathe. "Yeah I’m alright.", Domingo answered. "I think we’re gonna die though." Novocaine laughed and then he got this concentrated look of thought on his face.
"Hey Domingo."
"Yeah?"
"I think we best start praying."
"Ok", said Domingo, then he paused for a second. "You go first, man. I’m not sure how... right now."
"Alright, man.", Novocaine returned.
He looked to the pounding doors with worry and then dropped to his knees. Novocaine stared around the room saying, "Man, I hope you can get my big ass out of this tight spot. I’ll even do most the work... I’ll appreciate it. You know it- I’m appreciative." Domingo shyly and awkwardly began an accompaniment. He started with, "Yeah... yeah.", once in a while but then started to pick it up a bit. "You can’t tell me that you see no evil out there, man.", Novocaine said loudly. "You can’t say...", Domingo followed. "You can’t tell me that you hear no evil out there?!", he yelled inquisitively. Domingo was getting in the mood. He started talking like he felt it, "I hear it... I hear it loud! It’s growing louder!" The attack on the doors was growing louder...
When Jane came to, the room was completely dark. She heard the low hum of voices reciting prayers in an unknown language, although to Jane it seemed familiar. She was sitting down now and noticed that the floor was made of steel bars in a spiral pattern. There was a haze of light reflecting up from an unknown depth and it illuminated the bars slightly. It seemed that the light was gaining luminosity ever so slowly, and it flickered like a camp fire against the bars. Jane saw that the inner point of the spiral began just beneath her and then extended itself until it met the walls of the room... as if she was in the center of a giant grill. Her wrists were cuffed to the steel bars on each side of her. The bars were cold and dead, a complete contrast to the place she had woken up from. She remembered the shamanac figure in the jungle and the way it spoke to her, with it’s voice of trailed echoes. That voice would save her from the surrounding drone of the room’s voodoo prayer, but that voice was gone now... and the light from below was growing brighter.
Back at Hell
I agreed to see him only because he had come alone and part of me was bound to respect the emergence of guts in anyone. He would have had to walk through our house of hanging corpses accompanied by members of my army... and then he would have to face me.
Novocaine walked into my corner and I could tell by the expression on his face that he didn’t know me. We were strangers. For a split second his smile flashed in my head but I blew it away with an imaginary gun... I used to be so sentimental. "Someone escaped from an institution in Alligator Alley. His name’s Domingo Santiago.", Novocaine talked without hesitation, but he didn’t seem able to look me in the eyes for long. "Domingo said that something strange happened to him while he was escaping. He had a surreal experience with an entity that hopped out of another patient’s television. The name of that other patient was Jane according to the ID tag he saw in the room."
I knew what he was getting at so I just nodded my head. He added, "Some of us are leaving tonight to get her out of there. I wanted to let you know ‘cause I knew you two were tight."
He didn’t know if we were tight. He didn’t know me when I knew her, and I don’t think I talked about her all that much anyway. I wanted to know why they were so interested in her so I asked, "What about Sir Jane is making you all decide to finally risk your necks?" Novocaine dodged my comment with straight talking. He said flatly, "She’s been a prominent figure in some of Jimmy’s more apocalyptic visions. Pat also claims that Sir Jane influenced her to the path she’s leading with The Replacement System."
"Pat’s not someone I’d trust with any rational decision.", I stated, "And Jimmy sees all sorts of shit in his visions. So what makes you so sure she’s important?" Novocaine exclaimed, "I got a gut feeling about it, Man!" His comment forced me to look at his belly and I felt laughter well up inside of me. I fought it and I fought well, but I was strained from the effort... It was painful. When I looked up at him I saw my old friend for a second and he saw a tear running from my eye... then he did something he never should have done. Novocaine looked at me like someone looks at someone who is broken and weak. I saw sympathy in his eyes fully directed at someone he didn’t understand. Someone he wouldn’t understand, and the coward couldn’t look me in the eyes, so how could I trust him to die for me?!
I screamed at him! I let him know I was there- seconds went by before my men arrived to escort him out. My men believed in me. They were pure... that could see that I was strong. There’s not enough time in this day and age to work through feelings, and that’s all Novocaine is- one big feeling. Sooner or later they’re gonna get to him. They’re gonna throw him down on the pavement, stick a gun up his ass and fire. There goes Novocaine... I know all they do over there is listen to music, fuck, and play games. My game’s different. My game protects their game. And they do nothing for me.
There’s only one way I could keep things together without getting us killed. I had thought before that a small, separate military unit could protect all of us but I was clearly wrong. The enemy already had information on us– there were actual billboards of Darkwing! The Others were careless animals without someone to guide them, and I would be forced to extend my hand yet further during these delicate times we were in. When they returned I would assume command over all of us until we stood a chance to survive. It was my only choice.
Darkwing Regains Consciousness
He was lying in bed, sore all over. His eyes focused just enough to notice. The room was changing. Darkwing just stared straight ahead and watched the stucco walls turn to plaster and then brick, stone, porcelain, wood. The furniture in his line of vision appeared, disappeared, then reappeared into something else. The window filled itself in with glass which melted into screen, and then formed into bars only to disappear again. Decorations shifted apart, broke down, and then recreated themselves. Each version of the room he was in took a matter of seconds to form into another... and then he noticed himself.
Darkwing’s arm was forming over and over again in pace with the changing room. Muscular, weak, thin, and fat. Different shades of his own color blending from his present Darkness to a light coffee and cream. He hesitated to lift the sheet a little but it was moving along with his body, changing colors and texture. Darkwing watched his body change and he could feel it shifting in and out of itself like mixing batter. He looked to his side and sure enough, he wasn’t alone in bed. She was changing too... Some of the faces that formed he recognized and could place a name with. Others he couldn’t, but they were all familiar. Darkwing stared at her and the room in a perplexed expression of calm. Her eyes were open, but she paid no attention to him. She looked to be in a smooth ecstacy, with a variety of smiles, each infused with it’s own individual expression.
She decided to look at him and when she did he was taken aback. A stare from the woman he had most loved in all of his existence gripped him like a croc’s jaws. He gasped her name without knowing it, "Leyrana?" Somewhere in his daze he remembered the look in her eyes. It was the only perfection he knew... that look. Pure, unbounded love, gentle and somehow lost from anything in any place. She pulled up close to him and called him by the name she used to call him, "Yihro, oh..."
Darkwing, now Yihro, began to cry softly. She was almost too much to bare. She climbed onto him and cried herself into a frenzy, gently crying his name over and over. They found each other’s bodies and leapt into each other like addicts, both crying and moaning gently at the same time. Darkwing was about to climax but he felt her go limp beneath him. When he lifted his head up to see her, he froze. White friction traveled along his spine spreading throughout his body rendering him weak. Leyrana was not beneath him anymore,... someone else was.
He had known this woman also... an even longer time ago. He had no name to put to this face, but this one was perhaps just as ingrained. His name was Barlow then, and the woman below him had been his victim. He had bought her, raped her, and killed her all in one night. He looked on in terror at her face stained with blood and tears. A desperate gurgling sound ended as her face grew pale and he could feel her grow cold beneath him! He looked down and saw blood soaking the sheets. He looked up and saw his reflection on a mirror- it was him, Barlow!
Darkwing jumped back and screamed although he couldn’t take his eyes off of the dead girl. He sat up on the edge of the bed in a cold sweat, shaking, and sobbing in quiet hysterics. He looked at himself in the mirror across the room and ordered his reflection to change. It wouldn’t. His eyes caught a glimpse of the corpse from the mirror. He felt a chill rush through him. It was smiling. He turned to see the corpse staring at him with a mischievous smile on her lips. She pulled back a corner of the sheet and inside of his head like a thunderous bolt struck, "Lets sleep in, Baby." Darkwing winced, and found the strength to shake his head no- but that’s all... she had him.
Che’ra’ s Find
"Faces are changing a man is still lost in space. Lonely unapproachable now he moves towards his fate. Under the alley of one frozen cold. The lies from her lips over years have kept us all stoned.
What’s a little life Got a little life let a little life go
What’s a little life Got a little life let a little life go
What’s a little life Got a little life let a little life go away...
Swing set is swinging the playground’s empty and cold Grown up unapproachable now Children are tools for the known
What’s a little life Got a little life let a little life go
What’s a little life Got a little life let a little life go
What’s a little life Got a little life let a little life go away...
Image the ultimate drug Well, how do I look and I say in a way You look like you should. You look like you should.
What’s a little life Got a little life let a little life go
What’s a little life Got a little life let a little life go
What’s a little life Got a little life let a little life go away...
Che’ra lifted her thumb to her face to catch a single, falling tear. As she eased her hand away she noticed it. There was blood on her thumb. In the back of her mind warning signals went off so she quickly walked over to the mirror on the bathroom door. There was a small splotch of blood below her eye, but it didn’t look like the blood was running from her eye. After wiping it off with a moist towelette there was no blood at all, no damage. Her eyes were bloodshot though... and her skin was worn like dead leather. Dark circles created age around her eyes and stopped where someone’s laugh lines would usually begin.
Che’ra’s gaze dropped lower because she spotted more blood. Just below her knee it had soaked through her pajama pants and some of the blood reached her bare foot. She knew the wound was self inflicted, but she thought it hadn’t been deep enough to need a bandage. Well, she was wrong. After pulling up her pajama pant she had second thoughts about cleaning and dressing the wound. Her blood added color to her life, or so she’d thought in recent weeks.
Che’ra re-poured a glass of wine and sat back down in her recliner. The Replacement System was waiting. She discovered the name of the band from one of her most recent recordings. The breakthrough was a locator she designed to travel around the body under the skin to keep anyone from shutting it off easily. For over an hour she heard her appointed spy nervously spill her guts to the others who were trying to calm her down. The spy was screaming at them to, "Find the locator! It was under my left armpit but now it’s gone! Oh my God, they’ll find you if you don’t just kill me! Please, kill me and burn my body! They’re on to you!"
Che’ra was quite amused at hearing this, and she also noted that they did not kill her spy. They made their intentions clear as they patiently searched for the locator. Their intentions were to question the woman and then take her in as one of their own. Che’ra managed to record and amplify over an hour of music from this band called The Replacement System. It was barely audible when she heard it live, but now she knew a few songs in their complete form... she even had a favorite. It called to her as the wine went to her head. She put on her head phones and lit a cigarette. Then she pressed play.
"She’s out of her body again Staring out at moonlit coves
Wading through the dirt in search of animal bones
Placing the ones she likes deep in her memory Far from the damaged place the doctors use in therapy
They’ll be inside with cocaine and wine Feeding the children on which they will dine...
A friend that she looks on now and then is with a stranger in the barn They’re still trying to find God within a deck of playing cards And when he draws a joker after 20 years of losing face Her old friend’s on his knees again blocking out the stranger’s taste
Replacing it with tree tops and carnivals in the snow anywhere but where the eyes of God might go...
Here in Jane’s dimension of gathered laughs Men of the cloth are roadies for the big rock band
And taxi drivers sit you down and make you think What if someone’s tear drop found it’s way into your dream...
She knows she must go back they’re calling her away Pulled through rotted walls behind eyes afraid
Staring across a room that’s barely lit Waiting for the stranger Ready to get hit
They’ll be inside with cocaine and wine
Feeding the children on which they will dine...
Che’ra started crying, she had remembered the dream that woke her up an hour ago. It was more of a series of dreams than just one. Each a basic memory of her childhood with her grandmother in whatever usual routine they were in. Cooking breakfast, walking down the street chatting, sewing, and reading, getting ready for the day. In the dreams she saw herself with her grandmother chattering away and then her grandmother’s jaw dropped off, revealing electronics and circuitry. In one dream Che’ra simply laughed, and in an endearing way placed it back on her grandmother’s face... but from dream to dream her grandmother’s condition progressed. Larger chunks fell off of her face and the whirls and clicking sounds of a robotic skull grew louder. Eventually the Che’ra of the dream became completely terrified at the expressionless robot in front of her, still holding a pan of eggs. She screamed, waking our Che’ra out of bed.
Back to Work
Che’ra arrived at the main intelligence center located in Albany, NY. It was less than 48 hours previously that she had first listened to the barely audible mini- concert of The Replacement System, and she was burning to find out anything she could about her grandmother.
Che’ra’s access code was accepted in the main frame but any information she requested on herself or her grandmother was denied. She kicked her chair across the room and screamed, "Aaargh!" Immediately a peon entered the room and she snarled, "Go fuck yourself!" The peon took a second to process the information and promptly left. Che’ra went back to the mainframe and started to experiment, but after 20 minutes the whole system froze and a personal message appeared on the screen: "Che’ra Gonzales return to your room immediately. There is a message for you concerning the condition of your grandmother that is urgent."
For a moment she felt the urge to return. It was a frightened shaky feeling that gripped her but it only lasted a few seconds, then was replaced by what some may describe as a gentle madness. Che’ra calmly went up to the computer and removed her still bloody foot from it’s boot. She placed her foot on the mainframe and used her fingers to reopen the wound. Her blood spilled out onto the mainframe controls and Che’ra whispered out loud, "Take it. Take it all. You already have me."
The screen fluttered and a new message appeared, "Yes Sir... What can I do for you?" Che’ra’s eyes bugged out of her head. She put her bloody foot back in the boot and typed, "Che’ra Gonzales’ File." There appeared on the computer her face and information. "Oh my God!", she screamed, "Oh my fucking God!" A peon entered the room and Che’ra smiled at him. It’s lifeless stare failed to pick up the hints of blood smeared on her face and pooled up on the floor. She said, "Mr. Peon, please go out and find another peon and then have a conversation." The peon stuttered and then replied, "Yes Ma’am." He left the room to find another peon.
Che’ra turned back to the computer. She was already filled with dread, but she had to face it... and there it was: "Che’ra Gonzales- Session 1."
G66
The cold bars reminded Jane of death. Her bare feet and legs rested on the steel in frigid discomfort as the room remained filled with the chanting of more death. They had been at it for over an hour now, who or whatever they were. Jane could make out the entire chamber with the increasing luminosity approaching from below the bars. All she saw were stone walls lined with unknown tools, except for 8 uniform doorways.
Two peons entered from the doorway in front of her accompanied by the nurse. The nurse walked over to where Jane was at the center of the spiral, and then began counting each spiral bar as she walked from the center of the room. She stopped at the 15th spiral. The peons walked to each side of her and when she extended her arms, they reached into their pockets and each one handed her a pair of handcuffs. The nurse then bent down and handcuffed both her arms on the 15th spiral. Then the man in the gray hat walked in. He walked in like the guy who owned the place, not even paying attention to his footing on the bars below.
"Jane", he said methodically with that indecipherable hint of arrogance, "I’m afraid you’re not responding to our original plan of therapy..." He stared down at her. "We’re going to try something different."
Although the man in the gray hat held a calm demeanor, he was raging inside. As long as this "Jane" lived, his replacement system could not be complete. She was tied to everything. The opposing catalyst with the assumed name Patricia was still invisible to his machines, and only something as sinister as a demonic whore had the power to obstruct such an identity. She was tied to his son Ray. How could she get so close to him? Why was she so strong at concealing what she knew? Did she know herself? He remembered the security tape of her room during Domingo’s escape. "Jane" just laid there in bed apparently unaware of the boy’s presence outside her window. She didn’t stir and yet the boy disappeared from her window in a flash, nowhere to be found. The devil must work through her, he thought. She may have no idea...
‘Never the less’, he thought, ‘she must be destroyed prematurely if she can’t be contained. Gerald will have to be called. It takes a demon to kill a demon... I’ll have to rebuild cities and keep it amused, another pain in my ass. This better work-’ Suddenly he froze, concentrating on keeping his posture in tact. Was he actually talking out loud just then or was he thinking? Frustration welled it’s way inside and began to pry him apart. He knew he had to do something. He was in danger of looking ridiculous... which he wasn’t.
The man in the gray hat whirled around facing the wall, but on his first 2 attempts to make a sound he just gasped and wheezed. Terror turned to fury and a violent screech erupted from his throat, "Aaaarrck!" On cue the peons went to the wall and brought back 2 machetes. The nurse broke out of whatever trance she was in at seeing them and began to pull against the cuffs screaming. They stood on each side of her, and before they struck her down both recited, "Man is 5." Jane passed out.
When she woke up again she was in a different position, not at the center of the floor. Both hands were cuffed as they were before but on a different bar of the spiral. She counted from the bar she was cuffed to until the center, 21. Across the room she saw the peons finish pushing the woman’s limbs through the bars. It was so unreal, yet she knew it was real- she felt it. Jane wished she would have dreamt during her short blackout. Whoever it was she saw in her last dream made her feel like there was something else, something permanently grounded in balance. This was certainly not balance.
The man in the gray hat stared at her from across the room, eyes burrowing into her. She could sense something was off with him but that was all. Jane wasn’t used to the heavy stench of blood in the air, but it didn’t bother her either. She remembered it’s taste and smell from her previous feedings, which were mostly animal, but there was a building sense of cruelty that smothered her. It permeated cell by cell, mounting pressure as it dissolved the outer membrane of her mind. She was beginning to stare off- and that’s exactly what he planned for her to do.
Leaving the Warehouse
It was quiet in the playpen for an hour before they left. The Replacement System had stopped playing, and no one really had any idea of what to say. Twenty people were packing up, readying to go. Tyrone, Novocaine, Jack, Jimmy, and Domingo were among them.
Annie grabbed Jack by the hand, looking her dead in the eyes. There was a pissed off look of desperation on her face, "It’s not fair that you’re going, Jack." Tears welled up as she pleaded, "We both know you’re going because of the guilt. You’re going ‘cause you wanna die, Jack." Jack stared back. "You’d go too, if you could Annie", she thought, but she didn’t say it. Instead she got down on her knees and hugged Annie saying, "I’m not gonna die. I don’t wanna die, Annie... but if I don’t go, I might start wanting it."
"Fuck, fuck Jack...", Annie sobbed. She grabbed at Jack’s coat like a child and tugged violently, "Look at me, Jack! I’m a big cripple... Go on and get your ass out of here!" Annie had broken down and the sight of her started a pain in Jack’s gut. She took her eye patch off and said sweetly, "Baby, we ain’t that different- Look at me!" Jack’s dead eye stared out into space while the other looked Annie in the eyes. Only Jack’s good eye had a tear running from it. "Do you still like this face?", she asked. Annie nodded yes. "And I still like you and your wobbly legs.", cried Jack. Then they were both crying until one of them snorted. Then they started laughing and the other one snorted, which started them crying again. When they looked up, everyone was staring at them dead pan. Tyrone and Novocaine had a tear in each of their eyes. They haphazardly glanced at each other and immediately averted their eyes.
Danny interrupted, "You guys better come back safe and bring Sir Jane with you. And if you see that boy Ray I told you about... you bring him too. I’d go with you too but my lupus is acting up... and besides, Pat needs me here." She took a drag of a cigarette, "Be careful of The Man." Pat looked up and mumbled something unintelligible to Tyrone who looked back shyly at her and replied with something equally unintelligible. Pat nodded somberly. Jimmy walked toward the exit and called, "Come on everybody, we better get going. I’m interested in meeting this Sir Jane in person... and alive." He wondered where Darkwing was really at, or if they were all headed to a dead end.
Twenty people left in 3 vans. They followed Domingo to the spot where the body of the hitchhiker had been on the road. The body was gone, but Domingo pointed out the blood on the pavement and the clothes on the fence by the woods. Domingo relayed the projected path he thought he had traveled from the institution. He suggested driving another 5 miles and then cutting into the swampy woods. He thought they could reach their destination in a little over an hour.
The group cut through the fence to Alligator Alley with wire cutters, and began trouncing through the swamp using special stilts that Bob had made for them. It took them about an hour to cut through to the institution, just as Domingo had estimated. The 20 foot high electric fence proved to be easy enough to pass also. Once again, one of Bob’s inventions proved effective. Neutralizing clay was placed on the fence to outline an area the size of a large doorway. Once it was secured and the bars within tested, the fence was cut away within the neutral space. Only 40 yards to the main doorway.
Quagmire
He was worn out... mentally and physically. He had been beaten, raped, tortured, and drained over and over again. He suffered pain in the form of pleasure and intimacy because the girth of what she gave was too much for him. Darkwing was cracking and he knew it. He also knew that she didn’t empathize with or understand anything that was going on. Reality to her was something to play with, not to care about. Darkwing had repeatedly exclaimed the importance of what he had come to her for and how dire it was for her to reclaim her alternate self. She looked at him the way a curious child would as he pleaded desperately for her cooperation... and she never said a word. She simply changed the game.
Darkwing was sitting on the edge of the bed covered in someone’s blood when he made his break for it. Like a bullet he shot towards the balcony and leapt up in flight- she was quicker. His head rolled on the ground and his body fell flat. She remained in bed for a moment remembering what happened. It only took her a flick of her finger to detach his head from across the room. So easy... and now she was bored.
The creature rose out of bed and walked over to the head on the ground. She picked it up and looked at it. She liked his face. Casually, she went back to the bed and laid down, cradling the head in her arms. The creature stared into it’s eyes because she knew for awhile they could see. It dawned on her... that she knew too much. She knew all about the man who belonged to the head in her hands and it made her wonder about the rest of the people he knew. She wanted to meet them also...
With a flick of her mind, Darkwing’s headless body stood up on the balcony. She kissed the forehead in her hands then flung it across the room where it appropriately landed on his neck. Darkwing’s eyes changed from glazed to alive and for a split second there was the oddest look on his face.
After he flew off the balcony she chuckled to herself... it was the oddest look. Then she followed along, excited at getting to meet his friends.
After the Truth
She had been staring at the paused computer screen for 40 minutes. It was a compulsion now, a lock in disbelief. There, on the screen, a younger version of herself stood. She was surrounded by white walls and stood face to face with the suspended head of her grandmother. It was horrible... but it worked, Che’ra thought. She couldn’t accept reality after that. From that moment on she was only a pawn in their game. She remembered part of the song, her favorite-
"And when he draws a joker after 20 years of losing face
Her old friend’s on his knees again, blocking out the stranger’s taste
Replacing it with tree tops and carnivals in the snow
Anywhere but where the eyes of God might go."
Che’ra laid her head down on the keyboard for a moment... but just for a moment. She picked it up, leaned back in her chair and lit a cigarette. With her cigarette she pointed to the computer and said, "You’re my enemy now, and I’m going to make a worthy adversary."
Che’ra cut it down to basics. "First thing’s first, What changed me? Duration of time without answers? Grandmother? No. The man in the gray hat? No. Curiosity with the Others? Maybe... but what did I experience from them except the music and a mild observation of compassion? The music came first... The music."
The situation with the spies became clear to her. They had shut off their own locators because of the music. The music uncovered the lie instantly... but it didn’t work instantly with her. "It took me months of listening...", she thought out loud, "but it was barely audible until I reprocessed it. Maybe it lost something through the process? Not until the other day when I heard it clear and live did-" Another electrical charge fired across the best synapse of her brain and she knew purely without doubt that playing The Replacement System live across all media channels was the only chance she had of unraveling her opponent.
Che’ra tapped in to see what plans the man in the gray hat had for those warehouses. It was bad... He was sending a mercenary of some sort to assassinate them after the execution of an Other patient. Her name was known to Che’ra, Jane, but the mercenary’s name was Gerald... and she had never heard of him before. How would one man destroy hundreds of people who would most likely have the means to arm themselves? Maybe Gerald was just a code word for a Special Ops. platoon? Worse yet, everything was going to happen that night. The execution was set for 3:33 AM, and immediately following it would be the destruction of the warehouses.
Che’ra had to act immediately, but she had no way of getting there on time. She was stuck in New York and the time was already 2:16 AM- which meant there was no time. "Fuck!", she yelled. A peon that was guarding her door left with a, "Yes, Ma’am." It gave Che’ra an idea. "Of course, the peons!", she thought. Che’ra used the main frame to connect with Miami headquarters. She ordered all the peons to the warehouse immediately. They were to invade the warehouse without weapons because an armed army would most likely be arriving shortly after they did. Her hope was that The Replacement System would wake them up and they’d spill their guts about the platoon that was following. This in turn should frighten everyone out of the warehouses so that when the Gerald platoon arrives The Replacement System will be spared!
Che’ra went back to the mainframe after giving her orders. She knew the peons would take a long time just preparing to leave. It would be a miracle if they arrived at the warehouses within the hour, so she took another possibility into her own hands. The Replacement System- getting it onto mainstream media outlets- just in case that possibility would die tonight.
Once again Che’ra used the mainframe for information on the warehouses. She knew about the satellite connection there, but it had no audio inputs that could connect to a mainframe frequency. The only use they had made of the satellite was to pinpoint the location of the warehouse in the first place.
It occurred to Che’ra at that point that the man in the gray hat wanted the warehouses in tact for a special purpose. She checked it out on the computer. The purpose of the warehouse was simply described as "Diversion". "Diversion for what?", she asked out loud.
It didn’t matter. She had no time. She analyzed the components of the satellite using the mainframe and found her loophole. If she could change the connection from the mainframe and then reprogram it, it was possible to change the surveillance system to audio via the mainframe. The audio signal would transmit from the hardware of the satellite to the audio inputs of the mainframe, allowing her to transmit through the mainframe across all channels. If she was lucky, The Replacement System would be playing at that exact time. If not, well...
Che’ra went to work with less time than was humanly possible, so she quickened her pace to super human. Her spirit found the strength to keep her fingers moving as fast as her mind. Sweat and tears poured down her face. Her concentration was at the point of painful and she didn’t notice, but she was whimpering softly.
Other thoughts were trying to get into her head but she wouldn’t let them. Thoughts like time and reason. Thoughts about her grandmother, and herself, and the man in the gray hat, and the fate of everything- but she sealed the door shut. She existed for about half an hour in a state of pure mental pain. Her eyes were blood shot and a tear of blood ran down one of her cheeks unnoticed. Her head was hot... it burned inside... it ached. At 3:17 AM she finished making the connection. Immediately she prepared for the broadcast. She could hear The Replacement System, they were playing! For one instant Che’ra lost herself in a trance of the music but she found the strength to slam her hand down on the button that started the broadcast.
It was 3:23AM! The Replacement System was connected to anyone in the world who was watching TV, or listening to the radio... but after 10 seconds they stopped playing! Che’ra heard unintelligible shouts from the warehouse instead. Someone announced from the microphone that everyone had to evacuate immediately- then there were just the sounds of a mass evacuation. "10 seconds", she thought, "Just 10 seconds". It struck her that if the peons warned everyone in time she might never know, ‘cause Che’ra was passing out. Her own screen of vision went black.
Those 10 Seconds
On the night Che’ra broadcasted The Replacement System, there happened to be a lot of people awake and tuned in to some type of broadcasting. Almost 31 and a half percent of the controlling country’s population were awake in fact, which was quite uncommonly high. There was a lunar eclipse occurring between 3 and 3:30 in the AM. It had been unannounced, but for that half an hour many people woke up and stirred about uncomfortably because the tides of their own bodies pulled at them from the inside.
Peace Force members, business men and women, teachers, politicians, and the many unemployed were members of this group- a good cross section of everyone. Everyone had a different reaction, and to varying degrees. Some people felt a shiver run down their spine, and others experienced nervous ticks for a few seconds. There were some who had sudden crying jags and stomach ailments, as well as lightheadedness, and temporary shortness of breath. Oddly enough there were outbreaks of spontaneous exercise, including push ups and jumping jacks. A few people took their clothes off and started to walk outside, but they all stopped short realizing how ludicrous of an idea it was. Everyone acted out momentarily, the majority for not more than a few seconds, and there were even those who didn’t act out at all. Many stared off during the broadcast and for a moment after it, then promptly went to bed feeling tired at last.
There were of course the few who couldn’t sleep for the whole night afterwards. There was the slightest occurrence of complete mental derangement for varied lengths of time, and even a few suicides. In general though, by no means was that the common reaction. It was a mostly subtle change... at least for that night.
G66
She sat there, allowing him to stare into her. "He’s a man wearing a plain gray hat", she thought, "I wonder if he knows that?" Her observations arrived slowly in a fog of sorrow and fear. The idea behind the blood was getting to her, through her, creating a gap in her attention because of it’s presence. She was losing an unknown battle, the battle of awareness... and then he brought Ray in.
It appeared as if the man in the gray hat had little to do with it. Ray walked in on his own accord following 2 peons, but when he noticed her, his emotions fell apart. With flowing tears he ran over to her screaming, "I’m sorry! Oh my God, I’m sorry! They have me! They have me!" Before he could reach her, just before, the man in the gray hat commanded, "Ray stop." He didn’t have to raise his voice... Ray stopped. "You’ll have time for girls later.", he condescended, "There are plenty in Hell."
Ray wasn’t quiet as he made his way to the 18th spiral. He screamed at himself, he screamed at the peons, he screamed at the man in the gray hat because he knew the man in the gray hat wasn’t his father. He was a god... an evil god. The man had dissolved in him and what remained owned Ray. Jane knew this also... although she didn’t know why.
The peons handed Ray the cuffs, and Ray took them. He locked each wrist onto the 18th spiral. Ray was livid, yet he was silent and his body was shaking uncontrollably. In a frantic stupor Ray tried to play the game of his mind. Not to win, but for a possible feel for the controls. Twice he slammed his head against a bar but when the man in the gray hat told him not to, he stopped.
"Aarrraaock!" A peon walked over and laid a knife across 2 bars within Jane’s grasp. Then both peons stood on each side of Ray, just out of his grasp. The man in the gray hat casually strutted across the bars. He looked somber now, stoic. He was holding on to the look of a fallen hero and believing it. "Jane... it’s not your fault that all of this is happening. It’s the fault of your existence... and it’s my fault, for allowing you to exist." He believed what he was saying. It was almost beyond hate. "I am left with my last choice."
Another peon appeared from a corridor and addressed the man in the gray hat, "Sir. They’ve broken through ahead of schedule."
"Are there more than was estimated?"
"No. There are 20 of them."
The man in the gray hat sneered rigidly, "Then what is the difficulty, peon?"
"Everyone’s afraid."
"Of what?"
"Something is screaming into everyone’s heads so they can’t breathe or think."
"What’s screaming?!", the man in the gray hat shouted, "Show me!"
Before he left, he gave the peons watching Ray a certain look.
The Battlefield
They would have been sitting ducks standing on the floor of the room past the main entrance. The stairwells above were full of armed peons who had been waiting to pick off half of the group as they walked in.
The man in the gray hat only viewed the area for a moment before he had to retreat himself. Every peon was either doubled over holding their heads or running about aimlessly in perfect terror. The voice of a demonic whore growled into his ears, "I’m coming... I’m coming now..." The man in the gray hat thought he recognized something in it’s twisted sardonic tone. The fear it evoked was quite unsettling to him.
A peon was waiting in the room where the man in the gray hat retreated to. He grabbed the peon and pulled a sharp instrument out of it’s pocket. "I’m going to impale your ears.", he said with assertion, "After I do, you must take this and impale the ears of every other peon. Any further orders will be displayed on monitors or else written." The peon replied, "Yes Sir." The man in the gray hat looked at the tool for a second and then handed it to the peon, "Impale yourself." The peon concurred, screaming, and then left to carry out it’s duties.
The peons were surprisingly receptive to being impaled. Flashes of pain transformed into the standard dull look they were accustomed to and immediately after, they began to take aim and fire. They knocked off half of the Others, but not before Novocaine and Domingo made it to the corridor that led to Jane. The rest of them were sitting ducks if they left their cover.
Novocaine and Domingo were at top speed. Peons began to appear in the corridors, jumping out from side doorways, but to no avail. Novocaine twisted and turned without contact, peons slipping off him and tripping on themselves. Domingo controlled the impact, using what looked like self-abusive maneuvers to thwart them. He’d fling himself against the wall spinning in a way that flung them across Novocaine’s back. The peons probably would have been better off if they weren’t armed... but they were.
They were getting towards the end of the corridor when they saw countless peons waiting for them up ahead, guns pointed. Twenty or so shots were fired. Bullets sped down the corridor. There were doorways on each side of Novocaine and Domingo. A peon jumped out from each doorway just in time to make an accidental shield for the 2. Novocaine leapt through one doorway. Domingo through another. Both of them were grazed by bullets. They stared at each other through the doorway entrances for a moment then Novocaine yelled, "I’m gonna work my way up through the rooms!" Domingo nodded.
It worked through one room, but then each was left at a dead end. Domingo backtracked to the previous room and then hurled himself across the hallway, practically bouncing himself of the heads of a half a dozen peons. Novocaine met him there and sealed the door behind him, as Domingo tried to shut the hallway door. A bullet ripped through Domingo’s arm before Novocaine threw himself against the door, sealing it securely. "You alright, man?", Novocaine asked, though he could barely breathe. "Yeah I’m alright.", Domingo answered. "I think we’re gonna die though." Novocaine laughed and then he got this concentrated look of thought on his face.
"Hey Domingo."
"Yeah?"
"I think we best start praying."
"Ok", said Domingo, then he paused for a second. "You go first, man. I’m not sure how... right now."
"Alright, man.", Novocaine returned.
He looked to the pounding doors with worry and then dropped to his knees. Novocaine stared around the room saying, "Man, I hope you can get my big ass out of this tight spot. I’ll even do most the work... I’ll appreciate it. You know it- I’m appreciative." Domingo shyly and awkwardly began an accompaniment. He started with, "Yeah... yeah.", once in a while but then started to pick it up a bit. "You can’t tell me that you see no evil out there, man.", Novocaine said loudly. "You can’t say...", Domingo followed. "You can’t tell me that you hear no evil out there?!", he yelled inquisitively. Domingo was getting in the mood. He started talking like he felt it, "I hear it... I hear it loud! It’s growing louder!" The attack on the doors was growing louder...
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