Episode XVII

Dr. Pettigrew knew that he had probably sent Marcia on a wild goose chase, but he wasn’t certain. A man who can shoot lightening from his fingertips but doesn’t know how or why is hesitant to say that anything is actually impossible. Besides, it was good to establish a pattern of obedience with his new assistant.

Meanwhile, he had finally caught up on paperwork and had some time to consider his situation. He had power now, and power was good, but what was the best way to utilize it? So far he had fried some student’s papers, ruined some tel – some communication devices, and scared the living daylights out of a few stray animals. He felt that he ought to be hatching grand schemes, or carrying out diabolical plans, but so far nothing of the sort had actually materialized.

He scanned the newspaper for inspiration. More gang activity. Was this really news anymore? Murders. Robberies. One semi-impressive fire. At least the fire department wasn’t corrupt. The recall petition for the mayor had gained enough signatures, and an election was going to be held. The comics page. Garfield. Wait – he turned back to the recall election. A new mayor. Good. The old one was spineless. But would the new one be any better? Maybe…maybe he should run for mayor. There was an idea. He’d always wanted to go into politics.

There were two problems with this idea. First, he was on a year-long contract with the university, and it was only the fall semester. Second, his unique abilities wouldn’t be of much direct help. People sold their votes to the highest bidder all the time. Dishonest people for cash, and “honest” people for campaign promises. Fine. That was politics. But it was much harder to threaten people into voting a certain way. It could be done, of course, but you had to be able to threaten lots of people at once, and it couldn’t be too obvious that was what you were doing. His lightening trick was neither large-scale nor subtle. Frying the competition wouldn’t work, either; when all but one of the candidates turn up electrocuted one morning, it tends to cast suspicion on the one who survives.

Oh well, he didn’t want to be mayor anyway. Not really. Sure, the existing guy was an invertebrate, but even someone with backbone would have a hard time enforcing order. That was the job of the police department, and the Mammoth City police were little better than a highly paid, highly armed gang. They ruled the upper half of the city, and the little gangs ruled the lower half. Not all the police were corrupt, but none of them were any real threat to the crime scene. A mayor who wanted to make a difference would have to get new police officers. Men who were as tough as the criminals, but honest. Not just hones, but incorruptible. Tough as nails and incorruptible. In other words, they needed Jedi Knights. Good luck finding those. Besides, a whole army of Jedi Knights could by wiped out by two Sith Lords.

Now, there was an idea. That’s what he was, right? A Sith Lord, more or less. He couldn’t use the Force, but he could do the lightening thing. In fact, he could do it all day; it didn’t seem to drain his energy like it did Palpatine’s. So in some ways, he was stronger than a Sith Lord. Okay, so what would a Sith do under these circumstances? He sighed. Run for mayor, probably. Except – no. The mayor didn’t have enough power. And he couldn’t get enough power. Not without drawing the attention of federal authorities. The mayor had to play by the rules.

So who doesn’t have to play by the rules, he asked himself. The newspaper answered: The gangs don’t. They make their own rules. They rule the lower half of the city, and not even the police can stop them. Sure, they’re inefficient, because there’s several rival gangs and they’re always fighting each other. But if they could be united, organized….

This was starting to sound like a plan.

* * *

Four young men stood in an alleyway, smoking cigarettes and talking about nothing in particular. They wore black leather with red chains, the uniform of Red Death, the organization to which they belonged. The night was still young, and they were just killing time. One of them was toying with a knife.

Movement at the end of the far alley caught their attention. Someone was walking toward them, slowly but purposefully. “Check out the freak show,” one of them said. He was wearing a black hooded cloak that covered his whole body and hid his face. He stopped a few feet away from them, folded his hands in front of him and spoke.

“Gentlemen, forgive my ignorance, but are you in fact members of a gang?” The young men stared at him. This had to be the biggest idiot in the entire city. He spoke again. “I am looking for actual criminals. If you are simply delinquent youth, then I suggest you go home to your parents. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” The man holding the knife responded with profanity, and the other three reached for their own weapons. The man held out his hands and spoke again, quietly. “Telephone.” Electricity shot from his fingertips and into the bodies of the young men. They yelled in shock (pun intended), and he said it again, more loudly. “Telephone.” The electricity shot out again with greater force. When it stopped, the frightened gang members staggered to their feet, intending to run away. But then he shouted. “Telephone!” It shot out once more, and by the time it stopped, only one young man was still breathing.

The hooded figure walked up to him and knelt down. “Can you hear me?” He asked softly. The boy nodded. “I’m going to spare your life, but I want you to do something for me.”

“What?” He managed to groan.

“Tell your friends what happened here today. Tell them that a man shot lightening from his fingertips and electrocuted you. Can you do that?”

“They won’t believe me.”

“Yes they will. Because I’m going to do it again tomorrow night. And the night after that. And every night, until they are ready to listen to me.” With that, he stood up and walked away.