Episode XLII

Dennis knew he needed to move quickly, but when he reached his car he couldn’t resist the temptation to just sit for a minute and try to think things through. Anyway, the interior of a car was supposed to be a safe place in a lightening storm, right? Hopefully that applied to blue lightening shot from the fingertips of a homicidal history professor. Pettigrew didn’t seem to have followed him, but Dennis locked the car doors just to be safe.

His first thought was that he wouldn’t be able to stay in the dorm. He was scheduled to move out on Friday anyway, but he hadn’t started packing yet, or planned to before sometime Thursday night. Trying to go pack everything up quickly seemed like a big risk. Okay, so I just sleep somewhere else and stay in public places between now and then, he thought. His one advantage at this point was Pettigrew’s obvious desire for secrecy. He wouldn’t want there to be more witnesses than he could secretly kill. But where can I stay? Maybe with one of Carry’s friends – Oh no, Carry! Dr. Pettigrew knows she’s my girlfriend and – Marcia is probably working with him! That’s why she was trying to distract him. Oh no, oh no…
Dennis quickly took out his cell phone to call and warn her. Strangely, it wasn’t turned on. He pushed the power button and the screen lit up briefly then went dark again. Evidently the electricity, or the magnetism, or a combination of the two had fried it. Great. Where would Carry be this time of night? The two of them were supposed to meet for breakfast before going to their finals the next morning. Maybe she was at her apartment studying. He quickly pulled his keys out of his pocket and started the car.

* * *

Meanwhile back in the History building, Dr. Pettigrew had a roughly analogous, though inverted, series of thoughts. He knew that Dennis wouldn’t be able to make anyone believe him right away, but it wouldn’t do to have someone running around with knowledge that he was Darth Onion. The trouble was that it took a sustained shock to actually kill someone, and Dennis seemed to be much better at dodging the lightening bolts than any of the gangsters he usually targeted. A pity I have to destroy him. To be sure of success, he would need to get Dennis away from campus, and into the slums where the only witnesses were in his own employ. But how to do that? Dennis would surely try to stay in big crowds of people – and if he were smart, he’d soon move away Mammoth City without leaving a forwarding address. I have to get him to come to me. How?

Turning to his favorite role models, Dr. Pettigrew tried to think if there had been a similar situation in Star Wars. Of course – Darth Vader had summoned Luke Skywalker to Cloud City by capturing and torturing his friends. Luke had sensed their suffering through the Force, and come looking for them. Dennis Brown wasn’t sensitive to the Force, but a kidnapping note would suffice. The only question was who to kidnap. Carefully preventing himself from thinking about what he was doing, he reached into a desk drawer and pulled out his cellular communications device.

* * *

Marcia Silverberg was beginning to have second thoughts about working for Dr. Pettigrew. Sure, he had super powers, and he was going places. But he also frightened her, and carrying out his assignments was a full-time job. If she was able to do what he wanted and stay on his good side, she might be able to benefit in the long run, but the risks of angering him were significant. Unfortunately, opting out was also probably not an option. She doubted that he’d let her just quit, when she knew so much about him and his plans.

Currently his plans involved winning the recall election, keeping Dennis Brown out of trouble, and, inexplicably, recruiting Dennis Brown. Her job was to help with the latter two objectives, and it wasn’t going well. Outright flirtation had failed, and as a result Dennis was on his guard and further attempts at friendship had been met with polite indifference. Her attempts at spreading rumors were also less than satisfactory. There were girls in her dorm who were always ready to listen to gossip, but Carry didn’t live in the dorms, and it just wasn’t as easy to ruin someone’s reputation at a large university as it was at a small high school. For the moment, she’d given up on the project to study for finals, figuring Dennis and Carry would be doing the same. If only she could stop thinking about them long enough to study.

Marcia’s thoughts were interrupted when her phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Marcia, how are finals coming?” Wonderful, she thought when she heard the voice. I hope he doesn’t ask me for a progress report.

“Okay so far, Dr. Pettigrew.”

“Wonderful, wonderful. I was hoping you could help me with something. It won’t take long; I just need some information.”

“What information?” She asked warily.

“Well, you’ve been trying to befriend Dennis, right?”

“Yes.” The less I say, the better.

“I was hoping you could tell me who his closest friends are. Who does he hang out with the most?”

“Well, he hangs out with all the computer nerds, but he spends the most time with his girlfriend Carry.” Why does he want to know this?

“He has a girlfriend? That’s right; I’d forgotten. Carry, you said? What’s her last name?”

“Hobson. Carry Hobson. What’s this about?”

“Well, my dear, Dennis has become a bit of a problem. You needn’t worry about befriending him any longer, and I’ve had to cancel my plans to recruit him.”

“So, what’s going to happen now?”

“For the time being, nothing I need your help with, but my plans are likely to undergo some changes. I’ll contact you again after finals are over.”

* * *

In another, less savory part of Mammoth City, four young men stood in an alleyway, smoking cigarettes and talking about nothing in particular. They wore black leather with red chains. This identified them as members of a gang called Red Death, but that identification had become increasingly meaningless over the past few weeks. Their gang had experienced the criminal equivalent of a corporate merger with over half the other gangs in the city. Although they all hated and feared their new leader, circumstances had generally improved for those he hadn’t electrocuted. The usual activities continued – robberies, vandalism, gang warfare, and so forth – but essentially they had become the largest gang in the city, which gave them a decisive advantage. Fighting among those who were loyal to Darth Onion was prohibited and severely punished, and all their efforts were better planned and coordinated. For the most part, they got to keep doing what they liked doing, but with a higher success rate. The only really annoying change was the new rule against rap music. In general, it was a good time to be a juvenile delinquent.

One of the young men reached into his pocket and pulled out a vibrating cell phone. “It’s the Big O,” he said before hitting the talk button. “Yo,” he said into the receiver. There was a pause. “We’re just chillin’. It’s not even dark yet.” Another pause. “Sure, no problem. Who’s the target? Okay, let me write this down.” After scribbling some information on a scrap of paper, he hung up.

“What’d Onion Man want?” One of the other men asked.

“He wants us to kidnap a chick.”

“Awesome! Is she hot?”

“He didn’t say, but I guess we’ll find out. We’re supposed to get her tonight and bring her to forty-second street. He said we can’t do anything to her, though. Just tie her up and take her to the hideout. He’s going to meet us there.”

* * *

When Dennis arrived at the apartment complex – much later than he would have liked due to road construction and backed-up traffic – there were police cars with flashing lights parked outside. Fearing he was too late, he quickly parked and ran into the building. Carry’s apartment door was open, and there were police officers standing inside. “You can’t come in here,” one of them said to him. “This is a crime scene.”

“I’m Carry Hobson’s boyfriend,” he said. “What happened to her?”

The officer paused a moment, deciding whether he should say anything. “We aren’t sure,” he finally replied. “She called 911 from this phone, and said someone was breaking into her apartment. When we got here, the door was open and no one was inside. Do you know of anyone who might want to hurt her?”

Dennis knew exactly who, but he also knew that it would do no good to tell the police. “No, I can’t think of anyone,” he said. “Excuse me.” He turned to walk back to his car, but knew, via telepathy, that the officer wasn’t buying his story. I never could lie with a straight face, he thought.

“Wait,” the officer said. Dennis turned. “Are you sure you don’t know anything?” Dennis had a sudden idea.

“Well, there is this girl named Marcia Silverberg who doesn’t like Carry very much, but I never thought she’d do anything to hurt her.” That was the closest he could come to telling them the truth. Maybe something would come of it.

“Marcia Silverberg?” The officer wrote the name down.

“Yes. She’s an MSU student.” He went on to give the officer his own name and contact information, then took the officer’s business card. “I’ll call you if I think of anything else,” he said, before the man had a chance to voice the thought. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone right now.” The officer nodded, and he walked back out of the building.
As soon as he was in his car, Dennis drove back to campus. He knew what he had to do. Pettigrew had kidnapped Carry to get at him, and the only way to save her was by confronting Pettigrew. He’ll probably kill me, Dennis thought. But I don’t have any choice. He parked his car, got out, and headed for the history department.

When he got there, he found Pettigrew’s office, and indeed all of the offices, closed and locked. Everyone was gone for the evening. What does he want me to do? How am I supposed to find him? I guess I could call him. Except my phone’s broken. Thinking he could use a phone in the Student Union Building, he headed down the sidewalk in that direction. This led him past the English department, where he ran into Dr. Gregerson, his English professor, who was just exiting the building.

“Dennis,” the professor exclaimed. “You’re the only student who hasn’t given me a term paper. I was about to go home.”

“Sorry, sir,” Dennis mumbled. “My paper is done, but I sort of dropped it and lost some of the pages.”

“You should have stapled them together. Did you print it out again?”

“Um, no. It’s on my laptop, but I have to –“

“Dennis, if you don’t give me that term paper tonight, I can’t give you credit for it. It’s worth thirty percent of your grade.”

“I know, but I don’t have time to –“

“Where is your laptop?”

“In my car, but –“

“I don’t want to see you fail this class. Let’s go get your laptop. You can print the paper out in my office.”

Unable to think of any believable excuse for doing otherwise, Dennis walked back to his car with Dr. Gregerson in tow and retrieved his laptop. Then they returned to the English building together, transferred the file to the professor’s computer, and printed out the essay. Dennis thanked the professor for his generosity, then asked for one more favor.

“Do you think I could use your phone? It’s kind of an emergency, and my cell phone just died.”

“Certainly. Just dial nine to get out of the building.”

Dennis dialed 9, followed by Dr. Pettigrew’s cell phone number. It rang once, then transferred to voice mail. Dennis hung up without leaving a message. “No answer,” he said. “Thanks again for your help.”

Standing on the sidewalk again and waving goodbye to Dr. Gregerson, Dennis tried to decide what to do. Dr. Pettigrew wasn’t in his office, and he wasn’t answering his phone. What options were left? He looked down at his laptop case. Email. What else was there to try? He walked over to the Student Union Building where he could get a good wireless signal, started up his laptop, and logged into his student email account. In his inbox were five messages. Three were spam, one was possible spam from some guy named Damien Valiant, but the fifth was from “Darth Onion”. His heart pounding, Dennis clicked on the message to open it. It was short and to the point:

Dear Dennis,
If you want your girlfriend to live, meet me at the
abandoned factory on 42nd Street. Come alone.
Sincerely,

Darth Onion