Turn 4
October 26, 2009
11:22 A. M.
Labyrinth Security Prison, Portland, Oregon
There was a time when I had railed against the warden, had told him that child fondlers like Solomon shouldn’t have been allowed to even receive a prayer mat for the already tiny cell that I felt I had forced him into. If I had my way he wouldn’t have even been given a mattress, so I guess the director had a reason to ignore my vindictive rants.
You can imagine how I would have felt, shifting uneasily in my seat already, if I had gotten my way. I probably would have been even as Judas, shifting about from the gallows of a hanging tree as I tried to escape the guilt. Even now it chewed at me, gnawing at my broken heart as it shattered it into even more and more irreparable pieces.
At this rate, I’d be lucky to see the end of the year. Oh how the castle comes crashing down.
“Mr. Sears. Please stand.”
I obeyed the guard on my end of the glass booth as the door on the far side opened, two bulky troopers flanking the little old man who I had refused to look upon until this fateful day. Solomon, with his now gray beard, would have made the perfect grandpa if he wasn’t stuck wearing an orange jump suit or bound by the chains of false justice. Even in this prison he remained chipper, a smile on his face and a glint in his eye revealing that it had yet to break him, still the kindly gentleman even in this abyss.
Which made it all the worst for me. Grunting, I took my seat as the much shorter man took his own chair, his wrists cuffed to a small metal ring near his own microphone. Complying with the security, it was only after the two men began to back away that he took the microphone before him and spoke.
As always, someone found a way to upset me. “Greetings, Mr. Sears. I thought Christians give their death bed confessions to priests, not Imams.”
Was it so dam obvious? “How do you know I’m dying?”
“Because you wouldn’t have taken the time to visit me if you weren’t… yet even now I see death following you, just waiting for you to yield. You have a dark spirit about you, Mr. Sears. You’d do well to take it easy.”
Richard, buzz off.
I stirred once more in the uncomfortable chair, beginning to realize that it was one of the same models that I made my own guests sit in whenever they visited my office, metal and regret digging into my spine. Biting my lip, I had to think hard about what to say next as I found myself unable to stare, looking down as I pressed the key to be heard.
“That’s… not the only reason why I came. A friend of mine… gave me reason to believe that you might not be as guilty as… you know.”
“You mean Alucard told you?”
What?
“Don’t have to act surprised.” Solomon replied, just as calm as ever even as I raised my face in panic. “I’m not spying on you. Let’s just say that we share more than a hobby, Mr. Sears.”
“But… but… then why has he pretended that you were guilty? Why has he always referred to you as a kiddie lo… as what you’ve been accused of?”
“Because it’s what I asked him to do. A favor, only to be undone when you were found to be at death’s door.”
Then I’ve been played yet again by the great modern Caesar. Leaving my chair, tapping about the cement floor with my sturdy cane, all I could do is run a hand through my trimmed brown hair and tired face as I thought about any other lie the man may have told, searching for the ways he played me to his whim.
The ticking of the clock made me regain my cool as I redid all of the equipment and spoke into that thin microphone. “So you wanted to get put in prison.”
“Well, no. That’s an over simplification. I would have much preferred living outside of these walls with my daughter and grandson, enjoying the sunshine that is the California coast. First place I’m going to once I’m out of here…
“But… it was a matter of courtesy that I accepted my fate. Even if I knew the charges were a hundred percent false, Alucard had counseled enough to inform me that there was little to nothing I could do about them with the Robber Barons selecting the jury. So, just as a true chess player surrenders the moment he realizes he’s been trumped, I took a bow and accepted my loss with grace.
“Besides, given the current sentiments of the nation, I suppose a maximum security cell is safer for a Muslim like me than being out in the open. I can worship all I want with no one to complain or hurt me for it.”
So it was, ever able to find the bright side to any dark situation. How amusing that I was the opposite, looking for the defect in an otherwise bright and perfect situation, the man in white unhappy while the man in dark was living it up. Westerns be damned, they seem to have gotten it backwards.
Still, there was something I was missing. Something that Sylvester would have picked up in a second, yet I had yet to notice…
“Okay… so you said Alucard was in league with you. If he is… why tell me the truth now? If he had told me the truth before, I still would have gone out of the way to get you out of here. Even now my lawyers are working on freeing you.”
“Yet because I waited, you’ll be dead by your own hand instead of mine. You’ll be resting in the grave by the time I’m free.”
Hm?
“You want our game, Mr. Sears. You want to best me, prove to me and the world that you’re the best. Even now you crave for a rematch, one final duel to prove that you’re the better player.
“Yet I know the taxation Chess has upon the mind and heart. While you only seem to suffer from… minor psychological problems, your chest has borne a great deal of pain to see you come this far.
“If you duel me, if you face me with everything you have, you will die… and I will not have the guilt of a man’s death upon my consciousness.”
That my chest hurt even now, after a dose of Aspirin or whatever I took this morning, was evidence enough that his claim was true. Leaning backward into my chair, words echoing and bouncing about as they tend to do when they prove even slightly profound, I did the math as the answer slowly came from my mouth, damning me even more as I came to terms with reality.
“So… you’ve waited in jail… convicted for a crime you didn’t commit… because you knew that I’d challenge you otherwise, leading to my immediate death.”
“Correct. You lost partly because of how predictable you are, even if your stratagem is near perfect. As you prepare for your departure, you’re readying a final grand tournament at that Caesar stadium, aren’t you? A final display of your prowess, a sort of Roman funeral Mr. Sears.”
“True.”
“Well, I want no part of such debauchery. If I have ever earned a single ounce of respect from you Mr. Sears, then take my advice now.”
Leaning in, his voice grew a tad harsh as if he was reprimanding a child, which I practically was to the man over twice my age. Solomon imparted
“Enjoy these final weeks, even months if you were to live life as it was meant to be. Chess is nothing more than a dumb game, a past time meant to make bonds instead of breaking them. Being a champion of a game means nothing if you die in the process of taking that name upon yourself, even if you were to be the best ever.
“History will forget you, your friends will forget you, and if you waste these last days on such trivial pride than even your family will forget you. Find a better legacy than this, Mr. Sears. Be something more than a persona you’ve spent the last decade trying to create.”
Wise words to share… but hard to take to heart, to the point I found my finger leaving the button to make myself heard. Turning around, leaving my chair behind me as I felt my dragon’s face within my palm, my cane clanked once more as I passed a guard and let him know that I was done and that the prisoner could be escorted back to his cell.
I didn’t dare face Solomon as I left, all too knowing of the disappointing glance he’d give me as I found myself wandering for parts unknown.
Turn 5
Oct
ober 26, 2009
3:36 P. M.
Mount Tabor Reservoir, Portland, Oregon
Oregon is a fascinating state in the absolute extremes of what it has and doesn’t have to offer. Looking for a green, wet state known to be the recreational capital of the west? How about the best brewing companies you’ll find anywhere on our coast, outdoing even Boston in terms of simple beer quality? You’ll find plenty of fun, excitement, guns and explosions here in the great outdoors of the beaver state.
At the cost of some degree of sophistication. There are no real cultural phenomena that was born here, no great monument to see besides a few extinct volcanoes. Good luck trying to even discuss the arts near Portland, Eugene, or Bend; it’s not like anyone ever bothers to wear a suit save a few quirky snobs like me, nose raised and palm turned to beat down these apish imps.
So it was with a degree of reverence and solitude that I found myself sitting at the mountain lake, which in reality was nothing more than a large pond, passing the time away in a sort of emotionally pained stupor. I’m not entirely sure who brought me there in the first place, but with nothing more than a phone call I could leave whenever I wanted.
Assuming I ever had a reason to leave at all. Leaning backwards into the bench, I sighed and raised my eyes towards Heaven, half wondering if now was a good time to pray and ask for guidance as the questions and concerns bounced around my mind, to do or not to do… to be or not to be… to die and sleep, or live on in this outrageous mortal coil.
Never liked Hamlet. Too close to home.
“Well. I assume your visit went well then.”
Alucard freaking Caesar. I’d seen more of him in a single day now than I had in the last two years, yet now that I stood so close to the precipice I guess it was to be expected. In fact, now as I looked upon his bored eyes and stifled arms, stuffed deep into his silver trench coat, I began to wonder…
“Did Sherry send you?”
“Spot on. She would prefer to find you dead in bed than draped over a park bench in the middle of nowhere. I’ll keep an eye on you, since she’s a tad bit busy to do it herself.”
So be it, but that didn’t mean I’d have to be cordial about it. Though I could have given him room to sit comfortably on the bench, I continued to simply occupy the center and take the whole of it, forcing him to stand where he was in front of me.
Until he sat down beside the bench, legs stretched out. Guess I didn’t think this out that well… or maybe I just overthought it. Not sure what to think any more.
“Another murky day. You probably would have lived ten years more or something if you had picked a sunnier city… could have moved to Florida with your love.”
“Never liked the heat.” I replied, gritting my teeth as the anxious fighter took my cane that rested upon the bench and began to examine it. That turned to humor though, the man fingering the head of the cane and causing the knife to nearly take off his knee cap as it sliced his pant shin apart.
Alucard thought nothing of it. “Well, the point of marriage is sacrifice. Would have been fun to-”
“I thought I said to stop talking about Sylvester.”
“Did you? Perhaps you imagined it. You seem to be under a lot of strain, Seth. Especially with this new little moral conundrum to figure out.”
“What moral conundrum? Both choices are fair and equally righteous. There’s no question of wrong doing at all.”
“Which is why it’s a moral conundrum, Seth.” Alucard grunted, waving the cane as he tested the blade attached to it. “If it was as you described, it wouldn’t be a matter of mortality but of intelligence.
“To look at Porn or no? To down a beer or no? To steal that Porsche or no? These aren’t moral questions; the answer is so obvious that trying to make it a question of the soul is something only philosophers and the religiously dead indulge themselves in. If you know what the right answer is in less than two seconds, it’s just an examination of your wisdom.
“But catch-22s, pyrrhic victories and extreme reactions… that is where the fun begins. That is when God really perks up and pays attention, to see what kind of person you are. Life isn’t so much about trying to figure out what’s right and wrong… it’s more about what you’re best suited to doing.”
“Because being a Mercenary is just as morally justifiable as being a Nun.” I muttered, sarcastic as can be.
“Oh, that’s just Kaiba talking now.” Alucard complained, a small ping of pain going through my head at the mention of the name. “You of all people should know where the world would be without men like me. It’s only because of special forces, hunters for hire and contract killers that you’ll see tyrants and dictators dead and buried.”
“Thanks to me and my weapons. When Osama Bin Laden dies, who deserves the credit? The gun maker, or the man who pulled the trigger?”
“I believe we’ll be rewarded equally, but perhaps this is a topic for a later time. Did you hear that?”
The soft strike of thunder, rain imminent in the usually wet and cold city. Sighing, snatching my cane out of the so called guard, I forced myself into a stand as I began to walk down the single path, a long way down the hill leaving us ample time to discuss whatever was truly on Alucard’s mind.
“So. What do you really want to know?”
“Are you going to host the tournament or not?”
Ah. “Why?”
“Because your last days are to be a story, though one that is to be written according to your whims. Where you see one path I see two, and I can direct you into a world that would have gone unknown if you wish to end things on a high note.”
“That’s not true. I can host this tournament with or without your help.”
“No, you wouldn’t. You’d kill yourself before you’d see the second round end.”
Meaning that Alucard was just as manipulative as ever, even beyond Solomon. What game was he playing, and where did it end? Was there an end goal, an achievement he was seeking to unlock, a flag to trigger to get me moving in a certain direction... or was this just plain old trickery, trying to get me to think myself to death? I wouldn’t put it past the Albino scarecrow of a man.
“Alright. Explain.”
“Your health conditions are not, as the doctors surmised, a case of bad genetics. In fact, if you were to call up any of your doctors and pressed them, they’d probably tell you the secret now I’ve been paying them for years not to tell you. The reason why you’re sickly, and now dying.”
I paused, resisting the urge to unsheathe the knife and hold it to the mercenary’s throat. Of course he had something to do with my impending death; he’d probably tell me next that he killed my parents himself.
“So what should I ask first? The secret, or why you’ve been telling my caretakers to lie?”
“Either. The answer’s the same.”
“Okay. What wasn’t I supposed to know?”
“That your biological father isn’t Gonzo Kaiba.”
Well, dam. I nearly fell forward, flat on my face, at that mere suggestion as I leaned hard upon my cane. Already my heart was beginning to accept it though, the same feelings that came to Luke in his darkest hour coming to me as my own dark figure informed me of the truth.
“You son of a b… what did you say?”
“Castle Bravo, the first ever test of a Hydrogen bomb. Gonzo’s father, Gerald, was serving as a security guard at Bikini Atoll and was exposed to the radiation much like all the other men stationed there. While he himself would later die from cancer within the following decade, he managed to pass on his damaged seed on that, though producing a healthy boy, meant Gonzo was completely sterile from birth.
“The sins of the cold war just keep on shouting for justice now don’t they?”
Wasn’t that the whole reason Alucard was still around? “So Gonzo was sterile… but my birth certificate lists them as my parents-”
“Because while Gonzo may have been impotent, your mother
was far from it. She was perfectly capable of breeding children, which meant that all she needed was a suitable donor… which is where fate and my masters seem to have made their play.
“A certain one eyed man by the name of Jack Wallace came to them, Jack having served with Gonzo back at Bikini Atoll, and told them of a certain man in his employ that would be more than willing to help, nudging and prodding your parents until they consented into receiving it. Using a doctor privy only to Jack, they were able to induce a pregnancy in secret, causing the hospital staff to believe that it was in fact Gonzo’s son.
“When you came, the pride and light of their lives, they did it again a few years later for Molly, with none the wiser and Jack happily given two potential soldiers for a future war.”
Jack… Jack Jack Jack… it always came down to him, didn’t it? Everything in this blasted world, all because of the one eyed fox trying to be god. It would be noble and endearing if it didn’t cause my life to be so hellish all the time.
Yet, as the thunder roared again, my feet found the strength to move. So I followed, cane tapping ahead, as I found myself asking
“So I was just a pawn. A soldier to be enlisted in Damned Boss’s army.”
“You were… except for a small complication that we hadn’t anticipated. There’s a key question you haven’t asked yet, one I do hope you can come up with yourself, Seth.”
What could it…
“… Who was my father?”
“Close enough, though not exactly what I was looking for. Rather, the question should be what made Pierre Belmont so special that Jack Wallace would go out of his way to make sure he reproduced in a safe, secret environment? Why invest in Pierre’s heir?”
Pierre Belmont… dam it. He’s French. I was hoping I’d at least be given a more noble heritage, Arabic or even Asian in nature. French just made me another European mutt, living out his life in exile in the country across the sea and far removed from tea and frogs.
But it was a name, and a person. Swinging my cane as if to hit the opposing man in the ankle, I found him jumping over the wood as I asked
“So, if you know the man, you know where he is now, right?”
“Of course.”
“Well, are you going to take me to him?”
“You said you didn’t like the heat… because where we’re going, you could fry an egg on a bald man’s scalp in about a minute! Pack your shorts, we’re going to Sudan!”
Times of Peace: Volume 1 of the side adventures to The Mercenary's Salvation Page 36
