“He is in. I would like to speak to him. Now.” The white haired man’s tone changed from a gentle, easy-going voice to a deep threatening voice. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. I just want to talk to him. It’s important.”
“I’m sorry!” said McCarthy loudly. “He is not in! What do you not understand about that? Am I going to have to escort you off the premises?”
The white haired man laughed. “I’d like to see you try, but I know he’s in there. I want to speak to him now.”
“I told you no!” screamed McCarthy. “Get out of…”
“Let him in, butler,” said Chairman Obelis from inside the house. “He appears to be just a supporter of mine and,” Chairman Obelis breathed loudly, “harmless.”
McCarthy put his head inside the house, “Are you sure, sir?”
“Yes, let him in,” relayed Chairman Obelis.
“Fine,” replied McCarthy. He poked his head back outside. “He is here after all! What a surprise to me! Come on in, I guess!” He opened the door and bent down. His hands pointed to the inside of the house, as he was trying his best to imitate a real butler. “Wipe your feet.”
“Thank you, boy,” said the white haired man. He rolled his eyes at McCarthy and stepped inside. “Wow, what a place you’ve got here! I figured it’d be more modest, but it still is rather a warm home.”
“Thank you,” said Chairman Obelis. He approached the man and sent out his hand. The man gripped Chairman Obelis’ hand tightly. The embrace and handshake lasted longer than most handshakes as each man stared the other down and never broke eye contact.
“It’s a pleasure!” said the white haired man. “You can call me Bob. I’m a big fan. Real big fan, Mr. Obelis!” The handshake finally ended.
“What are you doing here, Bob?” asked Chairman Obelis. “Do you need some political signs or shirts? I can have my assistant grab some for you. For free of course!”
Bob laughed, “Oh no, no, no. Thank you for the offer, however.” He smiled large then lick his lips slightly. “I just came by to drop off a tip your way.”
“A tip?” said Chairman Obelis. This was perplexing to Chairman Obelis. He cringed at the confusion of the moment.
“Yes,” replied Bob. “A tip. I would like to tell you about the tip … alone, if I could.” Bob had lost all his friendly mannerisms. “I don’t think these… lessers need to hear about this.” Bob stared through Chairman Obelis. His blue eyes nearly convinced Chairman Obelis.
“No, uh,” stammered Chairman Obelis, “I must have these two men within proximity of me whenever a visitor, er, supporter is near. Just protocol, Bob. I’m sure you understand.” Chairman Obelis nodded at Bob, trying to think of ways to rid himself of this white haired, blue eyed man quickly.
“Well fine,” replied Bob. He walked further into the house, into the parlor where a brown leather couch resided. “I’m gonna sit down if you don’t mind.” He tapped on his knees after he sat down. “Bad knees.”
Chairman Obelis, Jeffrey and McCarthy hesitantly followed Bob into the room. Chairman Obelis sat down in a brown leather sofa chair close by the brown leather couch. McCarthy and Jeffrey stood in the foyer.
“What’s this tip, Bob?” Chairman Obelis asked. “Is the FBI spying on me? Is there some journalist trying to get some dirt on me? What’s your motivation?”
Bob laughed roughly. “I have no motivation yet, Mr. Obelis.”
A loud phone ringer went off.
BUZZZT, BUZZZT.
“Jeffrey,” said Chairman Obelis, “Please go get that. Um, butler you stay here, please.”
Jeffrey nodded and scooted off to answer the phone. McCarthy nodded, but had to pick his underwear out of his ass before he could return to paying attention. Bob and Chairman Obelis did not notice McCarthy adjusting himself inappropriately during their talk.
“Go ahead please,” said Chairman Obelis. He left his bored look on as he felt no reason to fully entertain this interloper.
“Well,” began Bob, “I am a big supporter of yours and want you to succeed.” Chairman Obelis nodded. “There is a group in this state, part of Southwyck’s constituency, which wants to take you down. They prefer not to kill you, but they will if they run out of options.”
McCarthy laughed. Not at what Bob was saying, but at the flatulence that was building up inside of him.
“Of course, I expected that,” said Chairman Obelis. “Did you want anything to drink?”
“No, thank you,” said Bob. “This group is comprised of mostly gas and oil presidents, executives and heirs. It’s really the only big business left in this state, aside from those incestuous Teltons and their retail stores.”
“Ah,” said Chairman Obelis. “I think I know who you’re talking about.”
“Possibly,” said Bob, “but do you know how desperate they are?”
Chairman Obelis knocked his head left and right.
“They don’t want you dead, like I said, but they aren’t afraid of disposing of you until after the election is over. Hiring men to kidnap you, taking you out of the state and stashing you in a warehouse, a basement, or a hotel somewhere. They want you to be gone so Southwyck, that impotent dunce, can help pave a way to a capitalist dream state for them. They want the people by the balls. Word is, funnily enough, that they want to eventually secede because federal officials refuse to help them anymore, but even these twits don’t realize how absurd that sounds.”
“Aside from the kidnapping, which I’m not worried about, I already know about all these things, Bob. You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.”
“They hired me to kidnap you.”
Chairman Obelis laughed loudly. McCarthy laughed loudly, though released a small amount of his disgusting flatulence during his laughing. McCarthy figured that sound would somehow cover smell.
Bob smiled, “I know, it’s hilarious, but I’m not going to do that.”
“What are you here for then?” asked Chairman Obelis. “Quite frankly, this… this small ordeal is just befuddling. I’m glad you aren’t a stalker, a real assassin or a Jehovah’s Witness. I’m, also, glad that you helped show that my security systems are clearly faulty and we will fix those soon.” Chairman Obelis cracked his knuckles. “So we won’t have another disturbance like this.”
“I’m here to tell you that I will handle this group of spoiled oil and gas men.”
“Oh?”
“I’m not going to kill them, but I will get them off your back to make your ascension to governor much easier.” Bob rubbed his lips with his right hand. “This will give you more time to… to focus on more important things… like the state of Arkansas, and current problems that afflict ail the people in the country. More time to focus on your true goals. Without any interruption from these men.”
“You don’t have to do this,” said Chairman Obelis. His eyes tightened. “I have a good feeling that I’ll win this thing. With relatively ease too.”
“Absolutely,” replied Bob. “I know you have certain strategies in place, what successful politician doesn’t? I just figured I should introduce myself and let you know what I will be doing. You know, as a supporter of yours.” Bob laughed and stood up. “I must be going, however. I have to plan how I’m going to properly deal with those oil and gas men.”
Chairman Obelis stood up and shook Bob’s hand again. “It was a pleasure, Bob. I hope to see you again, just not at my home. Never here.”
A speaker in the ceiling directly above Chairman Obelis and Bob rang out, “Sir, you need to come to the war room now. It’s an emergency.” It was Jeffrey and he had a touch of panic in his voice, an often occurrence.
Chairman Obelis sighed and looked at Bob, “Sorry about this, I must be going. My assistant gets frazzled over the littlest things. He probably broke a computer keyboard again. I’ll have my butler lead you outside. He’s an old idiot, but he manages.” Chairman Obelis glared at McCarthy, who was digging at his underwear once again. Embarrassed slightly, the o
ld senator stopped digging at his anus.
“Thanks again, Mr. Obelis,” nodded Bob. He watched Chairman Obelis leave the parlor. “So, which way do I go, butler?”
“Um,” said McCarthy. “I, uh, I… let’s go this way, Bob.” McCarthy led Bob to the front door.
McCarthy opened the door and stated, “Have a nice day.”
“Have to tie my shoes,” said Bob. He bent down in the doorway. While tying his shoes, Bob’s shirt collar pulled down slightly on his neck. McCarthy looked down and noticed something weird about Bob. There was a tattoo on Bob’s neck.
Bob stood up and brushed his pants. “You have a nice day too, butler.”
“Was that a tattoo on your neck, Bob?” asked McCarthy.
“Oh this thing,” smiled Bob. He grabbed his collar and pulled it down. “It’s something I got many years ago. It’s a syringe.” He rubbed his finger on it. It was nearly full of a blue ink.
McCarthy’s eyes widened. He removed his sunglasses and then began to shake. “You’re… You’re Malthus! You’re Malthus! Get away from me!” McCarthy pointed at the white haired man that calls himself Bob. “Get out of here! I know who you are! Help! Obelis!”
A curiously evil grin filled the face of Bob, “Oh yes, Joe, it was a pleasure seeing you again. We’ll see each other once more in the future, I’m sure.” He put his hand on McCarthy’s shoulder and squeezed tightly. McCarthy became immobile. “Now don’t go and tell Chairman Obelis that you saw me. Otherwise I’d have to kill you, kill him and kill anyone else that finds out. And that wouldn’t be any fun, seeing as I need Obelis to become governor and eventually president.”
McCarthy’s eyes darted from left to right quicker a ping-pong ball in a championship bout.
“Now, I haven’t done this… this tactic on a human in a few decades, but you should be able to move in about an hour or two. Or not – I don’t care.” Bob pushed McCarthy out of the door’s way and shut it.
-----
Meanwhile, Chairman Obelis finally made it to the war room.
“What is it Jeffrey?” asked Chairman Obelis.
“Sir,” replied Jeffrey. “There’s been a death at the mine. Self-inflicted.”
Chapter 36
Upgrade
Gora began to slide Owlbert’s prosthetic wings onto his now featherless arms. The wings were made out of a lightweight carbon fiber composite that Gora had lying around from another project. Before she was able to put the prosthetic wings on Owlbert, she had to go through the process of removing any and all feathers that could possibly cause the prosthetic wings to malfunction. Owlbert was none too happy about being plucked like a turkey.
“Ow,” chirped Owlbert after every plucked feather. “Ow, Frau Gora, ow! Gentle ja?!”
“I’m trying to be as gentle as possible, damn it,” said Gora as she continued the process of plucking feathers. Her tongue jutted out of her mouth as she focused. “It’s not like fur – I can’t just shave them off!”
“Ow!” cried Owlbert. “Ow, ow, ow! Gentle!”
After sliding on the prosthetic wings, Gora tightened them together with lightweight, but sturdy, strings made of a synthetic polymer, likely firm latex. The strings rested on Owlbert’s still feathered back.
“Don’t flap them yet,” asked Gora, her mouth full of extra string that was cut off in the process of tightening the strings. “Just have to place and tighten them accordingly.” She finished on the back strings and stepped away. Gora removed the extra strings from her mouth to size Owlbert up after properly placing the wings on him. Her eyes slowly moved up and down, then side to side.
“You look pretty good,” said Gora with a smile. “They’re not the same color as your real feathers, but function over fashion, right?”
Owlbert began to slowly spread his wings. He looked to his left, then to his right to admire and inspect the wings. Each of the wings had prosthetic feathers attached that looked awfully similar to his real wings’ feathers. They were just as light as his natural feathers and reacted to any air current like his natural feathers.
The prosthetic feathers were a flat black color, a difference from his tawny brown and white feathers, yet it didn’t bother him much so long as they were just as effective as his natural ones. He, however, couldn’t feel anything through these wings or feathers, which made him sad. But they would suffice for the little genius bird.
“Ja, very gut work, Frau Gora!” he cheeped loudly. “I like!”
Gora approached the fixed up owl and gave him a big hug. “Do you want me to fix your talons too?” she asked.
“Nein,” said Owlbert as he shook his head. “Mein talons are not as important as flying. They vill grow back, ja?” He clicked his beak happily.
Click, click, click.
“Sounds good, Owlbert,” she smiled and patted the beast on the head. “I’m going to see the progress of the other two. I’m not sure either can handle modern technology when looking for information. Hitbear had issues when he was first created.” She sighed and walked to the other side of her laboratory.
“Ja, sounds gut!” said Owlbert. “I figure out how to fly again!” Owlbert stretch his wings out again and did a little shake. “I need to get loosened up ein bit!”
He plunged off the table he was standing on and… hit the floor. Hard. “Ow! Gravity! Mein enemy!” Luckily, there were leftover books from Gora’s research on the prosthetic wings stacked near the table. He used the books next to the table to hop his way back on to the table. He stepped to the edge. “I get it this time!” He wiggled his back side and waved his wings up and down. “Eins, zwei, drei!” He plunged off the table once again.
-----
Gora passed scraps of her old inventions on the way to where Hitbear and Tubman were planning the next mission. She admired each invention that she could identify as she passed: a functional tube that properly doled out every potato chip in the tube without breaking the chip, her deadly muscle expander with dried brown blood and smelly guts still on it from Algernon the hippo-man, a small robot made out of aluminum that was supposed to clean up any broken vials around the laboratory, green tinted sunglasses that were supposed to somehow work as lightweight night-vision goggles in dark places, and a kit to perform a colonoscopy on yourself.
Each invention marked a low, lower and lowest point in Gora’s life.
She nearly made it to the other side of her laboratory, but stopped to laugh at the absurdity of those inventions and her life. She then continued to walk to where Hitbear and Tubman were planning the mission.
“Yo,” called Gora playfully. “What’s good?” The other end of her laboratory was filled with all her shelves of books, maps, computers and where the Beast Machine sat, looking upon the group ominously. The odd pair of Hitbear and Tubman had come up with a relatively simple method to kill Silva by letting Gora have the killing blow on him. However, they needed to find where he currently was before any solid plans could be hatched. They were having some trouble with that part.
“What’s good?!” replied Tubman. “This shithead wants to just pipebomb every place in Arkansas that Takeo Silva has ever worked. This includes hospitals, doctor’s offices, some pet store named ‘Kitties Korner’, and a museum in Texarkana.” Tubman’s ears, normally floppy, were tense and standing straight up. “There were more places but I couldn’t keep listening to his stupid ideas.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” said Hitbear. He put his hands up around his chest after the accusation. “I only want to pipebomb – or just blow up – places where he worked, where no children will be! We’d just have to make sure no children are involved, obviously! It’d be more precise than just blowing up a building at random.”
Tubman angrily adjusted her bandana, “You’re still a shithead. How would an explosion of any kind help us be discrete?” She crossed her arms and shook her head dismissively.
“Ah,” said Gora quietly. “I see you’re getting along just peachy here. At least Hitbear knows how to use the intern
et it appears.” He nodded at Gora. She swallowed her saliva loudly before asking, “Any idea when you’ll be close to implementing a plan? Any plan? Any little thing to run past me?”
“Not at this rate,” said Tubman, uncrossing her arms. Her ears began to ease as she spoke to Gora. “What about creating another beast? Another brain and body would do wonders for us.” Tubman turned to Hitbear and he nodded in agreement.
“No,” said Gora coldly. Her eyes briefly darted to the Beast Machine and then back to Tubman. “That’s not something we need right now. Keep working on finding Silva’s location, I need to make sure Owlbert is getting acclimated properly with his new wings.” She turned to head to the other end of the laboratory. Tubman’s ears tensed straight up again.
“Why can’t we, Gora?” asked Hitbear. Gora turned back around swiftly. Her face had become red and puffy. Her eyes nervously skittered left to right. “I’m sure I can do it, if you’re too busy! I watched you create Owlbert…”
“There’s just not time for it. I don’t want to mess up the cohesion of the group at the moment.” Sweat began to develop on her brow and forehead. It was profuse and evident.
“Cohesion?” said Tubman. “We barely function together as it is. What’s it going to hurt?” Tubman angrily adjusted her bandana again. “We have time, too. We haven’t found exactly where Silva is located! I can search for Silva’s location and Hitbear can create another one of us.”
Gora sighed, “I just don’t believe we need another beast to help us complete this mission.” Sweat from her brow dripped down onto her lips as her eyes avoided the eyes of the beasts. “I wouldn’t even know who and what to create. Just drop it, please.” Gora walked over to the Beast Machine and made sure the case holding the tiny static animals in vials was locked. It was. She turned away from Tubman and Hitbear to return to Owlbert.
“I don’t understand her deal about making a fourth… fourth one of us,” said Tubman to Hitbear. “She’s never been that rude to us before.”
Beast Machine Page 28
