by Beth Reason
Chapter 12
The sounds of the constant beeping and ticking of machinery in Weevil's laboratory drove the hammer into Tenet's hangover. He put his mask on to shade his eyes from the light and try and drown out the noise. It was better, but still hell.
“Do they all have to be on?”
Weevil grinned. “Ah, the fiery mistress rode you hard and put you away wet, did she? What's the matter, kiddo? Never had a hangover before?"
Tenet had no patience for Weevil right then. None at all. If Weevil wasn't helping him, he would have taken a swing. No, scratch that. A swing would have been movement. “Just get to it,” said Tenet.
Weevil jumped up and looked him in the eye. “One last time, buckaroo. Before I go ahead and do this, I want you to tell me you want me to go forward. I don't mind hurtin' ya, just wanna be sure. It's irreversible, you know.” Tenet nodded. “Okay, kid. Don't say I didn't warn you.” He sat back down in front of one of the whirring machines and told Tenet to slide his hand into the slot. Tenet took one last look at the scar, the family mark, then plunged his hand inside. Weevil tapped furiously at the keys, then sat back to wait.
When there was no pain, Tenet shrugged. “Not so bad.”
Weevil got that annoying grin again. “Oh, just wait.”
In a few moments, Tenet started feeling a warm tingle, as if he was running his hand through hot sand. He scoffed. “Is that all?”
Weevil grinned. “It's a process, man. I pity you in about, oh,” he looked at his watch, “seven seconds or so.”
The heat slowly built in his hand, the prickling sensation growing. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not wanting to let on how much it was starting to hurt. He gave Weevil a smile and tried to ignore the sweat forming under his brow. “A little hot in here, Weevil.”
Weevil pulled a face and nodded. “Yes. Yes it is. Better get someone on that.”
“Do.” The pain mounted, changing from a burning sting to a searing, stabbing agony. Still he tried to hold back. With his free hand, he took off his mask and tried to breathe. He wiped the sweat and squirmed in his seat.
“Hey, hold still now. It'll hurt less.”
“Not...so...bad...” he spit out through clenched teeth. He could do this. He had to do this. But the pain! “For the love of god when does it end?” he screamed.
Weevil threw his head back and laughed in triumph. The sadist. “Another minute or so. Hang tight, my man, and I'll give you a cookie when it's over. Swear...it helps.”
Tenet released a string of curses the likes of which had never before been uttered by him, and he had to admit, it really did help.
“Learn those in boardroom meetings?” asked Weevil, laughing and slapping his leg. Something began to beep, and he jumped up and hit the keys furiously again. “There,” he said. “All done.”
Tenet pulled his limp hand out of the machine and was afraid to look. When he finally did, he was shocked at what he saw. Nothing. His mark was gone, replaced with faint silvery lines.
“Those'll fade over time. I doubt the Borderlanders will pay it much attention. If they ask, get creative.”
Tenet flexed his hand. It still burned like hell, but at least it could move. “Get creative?”
“Yeah, you know. Tell 'em you caught it in a rope or something.” He came over and peered at his handiwork. “Not bad, if I do say so myself. Two years, you won't even notice it. You a hairy kind of guy?”
“What?”
“You know...fur all over ya?”
Tenet shook his head and regretted the movement. “No. Why?”
Weevil shrugged. “Too bad. Hair would hide it faster. I can make you hairy, if you want.”
Tenet held up his good hand. “No, no. That's fine.”
Weevil leaned back in his chair. “No. I suppose Scarab wouldn't like it too much.” He slammed the legs back down suddenly, putting his face next to Tenet's. “How'd you do it? I just gotta know? How'd you crack through and get my darling?”
Tenet cleared his throat. “I didn't crack through anything. You heard her last night. Pissed as hell."
"Just playing hard to get, my boy."
Tenet had to laugh at that. "Doesn't anything sink in with you? I may have had a bit too much last night..."
"A bit?"
"But I can remember the daggers she shot me when you hatched your little plan."
"I do seem to remember a bit of shouting, now that you mention." He had an annoying glint in his eyes that told Tenet just how amused he was by the whole thing. "It's bluster, boy. She'll come around. Trust me, you'll have yourself one helluva honeymoon one of these days. Do me a favor and take notes. I expect all the dirty little details."
Tenet could only sigh and shake his head. “You are an odd guy, Weevil.”
“Thank you. All this desert sand.” He sat back down. “That's step one off the list," he said, getting back to work. "Next one up, DNA. Can't do that, though, till the third. That friggin' monkey of an assistant screwed up again. Lowlife!” he called. The boy came into the room and stood waiting for reprimand. “What in the hell is this? Can't you even get a simple list right you sniveling mass of poo?”
The boy rolled his eyes and turned around and left, slamming the door behind him. “Whoohee,” said Weevil. “Musta interrupted his happy hour. Know what I mean?” He made a crude gesture towards his crotch and waggled his eyebrows.
Tenet knew he had already spent too much time with Weevil when he realized that yes, he did know exactly what the man meant.
“So, since the completely incompetent moron has once again screwed it all up, I'll just draw an arrow from this step to this like so and there. Problem solved.”
“What's next then?”
“Gotta find your tagger.”
Tenet winced. “Will it hurt as bad as the hand?”
Weevil sighed. “Unfortunately, no. It'll be virtually painless.”
Tenet rolled his eyes. “Sorry.”
Weevil shrugged. “Eh, can't win em all.” He opened the drawer of his desk and pulled out a machine. “This here's the wand. I'll run it over you and it'll beep if I find a tagger. Of course, it can be used internally, if you'd prefer.” He waggled his eyebrows and Tenet shuddered. “Fine. Be a buzzkill.” He stood up and ordered Tenet to lie on the floor. “Just like a whore, I do one side, then the other. Lay still.” Tenet waited for it. “Like a whore.” Tenet shook his head and lay on the floor.
Weevil stood above him and started slowly waving the wand up and down. It beeped near Tenet's shoulder, and Weevil marked the spot with an X.
“Are we done?”
“You're pure government, boy. You think you only got one?” He kept waving, then ordered Tenet to flip. The wand beeped near the shoulder again, but Weevil said it was just picking up on the same tagger. He worked his way lower and lower, making several comments about the lack of excitement in the machine over the crotch area. Tenet tapped his fingers on the floor, waiting for it to be over. There was a loud beep over one of his thighs, and Weevil said, “Hello little stranger.” He marked the spot, then ordered Tenet onto a table in the corner.
“You're sure it won't hurt?”
Weevil sighed. “Scarab ordered me to give you a painkiller first, the bitch.” He took out a syringe, and injected Tenet in the shoulder and again in the leg. He waved the wand over one last time to make sure he'd marked the correct spots, then took out another wand-like machine.
“What's that?”
“Magnet, basically. The idea is to fry the chip, then crank up the pull and it'll suck the tagger out.”
Tenet's eye went wide. “Through the skin?”
“Relax, kid. These taggers are tiny. A little hole, that's all. Clears up in a few days. No worse than a splinter.”
“Do you do this a lot?”
“Enough to know what I'm talking about. Now hold still. You won't feel it.” The disappointment in his voice was unmistakable. Tenet watched as he held the wand over his shoulder.
> “You marked the back,” he reminded Weevil.
“Doesn't matter. It's under the bone. Out or in either way.” The machine hummed slightly, but Tenet felt nothing. He watched as a bump started to form under the skin. In just a minute, the tiny bead pressed the skin tight, then popped out and stuck to the wand. Tenet gasped, and Weevil looked hopeful for a second. “Hurt?”
“No. Just...freaky.”
Weevil sighed, dabbed the small wound with a cloth, covered it with a small bandage, then moved down to Tenet's thigh. Tenet didn't plan on watching again and was fine looking at the ceiling until Weevil yelled, “Holy mama! What the hell's this?”
Tenet didn't want to look, but curiosity won out and he looked down. “What the hell is that?” A cigar-shaped lump was straining against his skin, ready to burst out.
“Shit, hand me that scalpel,” said Weevil, pointing to a tray next to the table. With shaking hands, Tenet passed it as carefully as he could. Weevil placed the tip of the knife on the lump, and instantly his skin split, the two inch long metal chunk flying through to slap on the underside of the wand with a resounding twang.
Weevil looked at the chunk, looked at the leg, and swore.
“What the hell is it?” Tenet asked again.
“Lemme do these stitches, then we'll find out.” Weevil handed him the wand. “Here. Don't touch it.”
Tenet laughed at how absurd of an order it was. “Please. It's been in me for...well probably all my life. It's not gonna hurt me.”
“Leave it alone till I get to look at it!”
“It's my leg garbage.” Tenet poked at the oval of metal. It was completely smooth, about the size and lengthy of his pinky. “I can't see anywhere a chip would be.”
“Aw, man, come on!” Weevil stitched as fast as he could, not really caring if he did top notch work or not.
Tenet tapped the thing again and said, “It's a solid chunk of metal. I'm not doing anything to it.”
Weevil stitched like a madman, and in a few short minutes, the wound was closed. He reached into a drawer and tossed Tenet some bandages. He snatched the wand and shut it off, catching the object in his hand. “Ewie. If you were gonna play with it anyway, you could have at least wiped your guts off it.”
Tenet sighed and rolled his eyes. He wrapped the bandage around his leg, wincing at the ugly gash and lazy stitches. It wouldn't be pretty when the pain killers wore off. He hopped off the table and pulled his pants back on. “What's that?” He motioned to the machine Weevil was now working with.
“Oh, just a little throwback I picked up from an old junkyard specializing in antiquated equipment. Ain't history great?”
“It still works?”
“No. It works again. Spent years building it up to what it is.” He suddenly turned, a scowl on his face. “Say, you're not planning on running back and snitching on me, are ya?” He looked at Tenet quizzically, then smiled and patted his back. “Nah, I can trust you. I've been inside your leg, after all.”
“So what do all these tubes and buttons and whirly doohickies do?” Tenet batted at a twirling twist of metal.
“Doohickies? I'll have you know, you scientifically challenged ninny, that there are no 'doohickies' anywhere to be found on this glorious machine.” Weevil opened a little door and carefully placed the hunk of metal inside. After closing it, he pressed a series of buttons, and the machine started to whir and shake. He cocked an eyebrow at Tenet, then tossed him some goggles. “Safety first, my boy. Don't want to be blind and gimpy now, do ya?”
The machine began to pick up speed, rattling hard enough to shake everything around them. And the noise! “So what are we hoping to accomplish here?” Tenet yelled over the clank and clatter.
“I'm not really sure,” called Weevil, reaching in and pressing more buttons.
“You mean you don't know?”
“Of course I know,” Weevil had to scream to be heard over the noise. On the shelf behind him, several carcasses from his collection rattled to the floor. “It would be irresponsible of me as a scientist not to be absolutely certain of my equipment!”
Tenet took a giant step back as the machine began to smoke. “You have absolutely no idea what the hell this thing does, do you?” he shouted, ducking a falling beaker.
Weevil turned around, his hair wild, his eyes even more, and said with a grin, “None whatsoever! Isn't it fun?”
Fun? The machine was rocking hard enough to be shaken off its foundation and was skidding slowly towards them, the crazed monster of a diabolically insane madman. Tenet took another step back, certain that at any moment the angry twisted metal beast would lunge for him. Weevil jumped away and crashed into Tenet as a spring worked its way loose and shot for his head.
“Shut it down!” yelled Tenet, trying to hide behind Weevil.
“No way! This is amazing!” Weevil shouted back, twisting and placing Tenet between himself and the machine.
“Hey!”
“If I get crushed, we'll never know what that thing is!”
“The metal or the machine?”
Weevil looked at him and shrugged. “Both!”
All of a sudden, the machine sputtered and stopped. The two men looked at each other, then at the machine, neither one ready to move any closer. All around them, beakers settled on their shelves, gadgets rocked to a stop. “Is...is that it?” asked Tenet.
“How the hell should I know?”
They shuffled forward a pace, Weevil clinging to Tenet's back. The machine belched a puff of smoke, and all through it, metal tinged and pinged as it settled back into place. “Open that little door,” Weevil whispered to Tenet.
“It's your machine!”
“Yes, but it's your gut-covered specimen.”
Tenet sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He stepped forward, shielding his face with his arm just in case. He flipped the door open and removed the metal as fast as possible. “Holy shit!” The metal was scorching hot, and he tossed it back and forth in his hands. “Where do you want it? Come on, where?”
Weevil ran to a desk and with a mighty shove, pushed all the contents to the floor. “Here! Over here!”
Tenet tossed the chunk onto the table and blew on his hands. “Holy...”
“Shh!” said Weevil, peering at the rocking hunk of metal. He turned on a light and pulled it down over the piece.
Tenet continued to blow on his hands and leaned in with Weevil to get a close look. “Well? What happened?”
Weevil frowned. “Nothing.”
“What?”
Weevil sighed and shook his head. "It was worth a shot.”
“All that did...nothing?”
Weevil ran his hands through his hair. “Nope. Not one blessed thing. Oh well. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”
Tenet's hangover resumed the drum line in his head. “Great.”
Weevil slapped his back. “Aw, don't let it get you down. You can't win 'em all. It was a great idea, but I told you before we went ahead with this crazy idea of yours that it probably wouldn't work.”
“My crazy idea, huh?” said Tenet rubbing his tired eyes.
“So you're not cut out to be a scientist. I'm sure you have many other fine qualities. I bet you'd make a wonderful...”
Just then the metal chunk on the table made a loud ping and popped open right in half. The two men looked at each other with surprise, then bent over the table. The metal turned out to be the shell of an intricate series of wires, chips, and transistors...and was that a microphone?
Weevil released a rush of breath. “I am....a genius!”
Tenet poked at the wires and shook his head. Weevil was something, alright. He just couldn't figure out what. He pulled up a chair and watched as Weevil picked apart the tiny computer, touting his own scientific prowess every step of the way.
“We'll get it, boy. Hard part's done. Now, we get to play.” He grinned at Tenet, his hair wild and slightly singed on the ends from their experiment.
Yes. He
was certainly something.
