Episode LIII

As Dennis Brown walked out of the Island Burger and started down the street toward the old industrial district, he wondered if he had made the right decision in not confiding in the woman he had met. Surely not endangering more people was the right thing to do, but he seemed to be rapidly approaching a no-win scenario. I’m just a kid, he thought. I’m a lonely computer geek who can hear people’s thoughts, and I have to go confront a psychopathic killer who can shoot lightening, magnetize things, and who knows what else. He’s got Carry, he knows I’m coming, and he’s going to try to fry me as soon as I walk in the door. I’ll hear it coming and dodge, but how long can I keep that up? And how am I supposed to fight back? It all seemed so unfair. In movies, the superheroes always appeared outmatched for a while, but they had cool powers and they figured out a way to win. Dennis didn’t feel like a superhero; he felt like a condemned man. He was walking into certain death for both himself and his girlfriend, with no guarantees that the scriptwriters were on his side. As he got deeper into the seedy part of town, streetlights became scarce and then nonexistent. In the fading light, every building and alleyway looked sinister. Dennis hoped he’d live long enough to get himself killed.

* * *

Earlier that afternoon, a pair of students in the chemistry building at MSU were working on a final lab project. Although both had contributed to the necessary work, the experiment was the brainchild of just one of them. Aaron Kroeder was the top student in the senior-level class, and Greg Farrell considered himself lucky to be his lab partner. However, he was less than thrilled about the current project.

“Are you sure this meets the guidelines?” Greg asked for the third time that day.

“Will you stop asking that?” Aaron retorted with irritation. “We’ve got to get this done by tomorrow, so we have time for the write-up.”

“I’ll stop asking when you answer the question.”

“Okay, look.” He put down a test tube and talked with measured tones. “We may not be precisely within guidelines. But we’re exceeding expectations, not failing to meet them. If this does what I’m hoping it will do, everyone in the scientific community will be talking about us for months. Dr. Thomas knows genius when he sees it. He’ll have no choice but to give us an A.”

“But what if it doesn’t work like you want?”

“Then we’ll do the write-up on why it didn’t work, and we’ll still get an A.” He picked up the test tube again and continued working.

“Unless he fails us for not meeting the guidelines.”

“He won’t do that. Anyway, there’s no time to come up with a new project. If you were so worried about this, why didn’t you say something before today?”

“I didn’t understand what we were doing before today. I spent the last three nights studying up on it.”

“See, what did I tell you? It’s genius. Now that we’re done with this part, we have to let it sit for a few hours. We’ll put up a sign so no one bothers it, and come back later to finish up.”

* * *

In the women’s dormitories on the other side of campus, Marcia Silverberg had spent an unfruitful hour trying to study after hanging up with Dr. Pettigrew, when her phone rang again.

“Hello?”

“Marcia? It’s Pam.”

“Oh, hi.”

“Are you okay? You sound upset.”

“I’m fine. Just trying to study.”

“Well, are you ready to go work on that lab project? It’s not due ‘till Thursday, but I thought maybe we could get it out of the way early in the week.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you in the lab in fifteen minutes then?”

“Sounds good.”

“Okay, bye.”

Marcia and Pam were lab partners in a lower-level class with the same professor as Aaron and Greg. They met in the lab, laughed at the sign – “Aaron and Greg’s Genius Project: Do Not Touch!” – and got to work on their own experiment. A couple of hours later, they were finished with everything, including the report, and started packing up to leave.

* * *

One consequence of Darth Onion’s rise to power was the unification of the majority of the Mammoth City gangs, which submitted to his leadership. Another consequence was the semi-unification of the remaining gangs, who continued to defy him. They didn’t unite under a single leader, but they did stop almost all fighting among themselves, concentrating their efforts on defeating their common enemy. The war was going badly for them, but the discovery that Onion’s lightening sometimes didn’t work (although they had no idea when those times were) had caused a resurgence of energy and hope. The various gang leaders had actually met together to discuss strategies for defeating him.

On this Monday night, an unprecedented opportunity had presented itself. Darth Onion himself was in a known location: The abandoned factory on 42nd street. This was fairly close to a more civilized part of town, where the gangs didn’t rule so fully, and some distance from his usual headquarters. Furthermore, he only took a few of his boys with him, and the ones he didn’t take were sticking to their own turf. The rival gang leaders had no idea what Onion was doing there, but they saw it as perfect time to attack, and maybe take him out for good. Their plan was to surround the factory, watch it for a while with the hope of finding out what was going on, then attack at midnight, or sooner if Onion started to leave. Thus it was that as Dennis approached the factory, his feeling of being watched from the shadows was accurate.

* * *

Aaron Kroeder was pretending to read a book for his English class, but he was really thinking about his “genius experiment,” and whether it would work as planned. Despite his outward show of confidence to Greg, there was still something nagging in the back of his mind. For the umpteenth time, he mentally went through the series of reactions that were currently taking place. Suddenly, the metaphorical light bulb turned on over his head and he realized what it was he’d been missing. With this realization came a feeling of panic as the implications became clear. Picking up his phone, he quickly dialed his lab partner.

“Hello?”

“Listen, there’s a problem with the experiment. I was thinking at through, and as soon as the reaction—”

“Um, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Are you calling for Greg?”

“Yes! I need to talk to him!”

“I think he’s at the library. Can I take a message?”

“Never mind!”

Rushing out of his room, Aaron quickly ran out of the dormitory and down the steps. As he started across campus, the sudden sound of an explosion, accompanied by a bright magenta mushroom cloud over the chemistry building, told him he was too late. “I’m going to get an F for sure,” he said to no one in particular.

* * *

Dennis heard them coming before they even started to move towards him, and preemptively broke into a run. He might have gotten away if he’d turned around and run back in the direction of civilization, but he was desperate to get to the factory, if only to see Carry one last time before he died. Before long he heard that his pursuers were about to grab him, and turned around to fight at the last second. He lasted rather long for a computer science major fighting street-hardened gangsters.

Once they knocked him down and got a good hold on him, they tied his hands behind his back, then dragged him down one of the sinister alleyways, across a street, and into a broken-down house. He could hear several more of them in the house before he was shoved inside. The room was well lit with candles. Trying to make sense of the cacophony of thoughts as he waited for his eyes to adjust, Dennis singled out a single mind that was more forceful and chaotic than the rest. He guessed correctly that it belonged to the leader. The thoughts coming from it were rapid and disorganized, but if he concentrated he could pick out the general flow.

“What are you doing here, white boy?”

Anger. Nostalgia. Jealousy. A big building with rooms and hallways. More anger.

“Look at me when I talk to you!” Still blinking from the light, Dennis forced himself to look up at the speaker. He saw a young, well-dressed Hispanic man, probably a year or two older than himself.

”What were you doing in that part of town?” A young Hispanic boy with a black eye and a bloody nose is looking up at a middle-aged white man. He remembers running down the street, being chased by white men. Emphasis on the white. Anger.

“Are you deaf, white boy?” With a start, Dennis realized that the previous question was spoken aloud as well as remembered.

“N-no. Sorry, I was distracted.”

The boy is being caught by the white men. They start to beat him up. He’s remembering what they did in his house. His parents were there. His father answered the door; the men came in. A wave of emotions. The memory is forcefully stopped, only to be replaced by another. The boy is older, living in the building with the rooms and hallways. He is happy. Then he is in a small room, with another white man. The man looks at him, and—Dennis sensed what was coming and braced himself against the images even as they too were forcefully stopped.

“What are you doing here? Where were you going? You aren’t a street kid; you were in this part of town for a reason.”

Dennis realized that the questions were coming from a different part of the man’s mind that he couldn’t hear; the emotions and memories drowned everything else out. Listening for a moment to the other men in the room, he further realized that he’d better pay more attention to them and to the conversation if he wanted to live.

“Why do you care where I was going?” Dennis didn’t expect a verbal answer to this, but he immediately got several nonverbal responses, which told him they knew he had been headed towards Darth Onion.

“I’m the one asking the questions here!” The man took a step closer, making it harder to ignore his thoughts.

Dennis started trying to think up a good answer, then abruptly decided that since he was so bad at lying, he might as well quit. His hands were still tied behind his back, but he struggled to his feet.

“You know where I was going and who I was going to meet.” He glanced around the room. “You think I work for him. I don’t. Not since he tried to kill me.” He heard incredulity at the idea that Darth Onion had tried to kill anyone and failed.

“Then why were you going to meet him?”

“I can’t tell you that. I can’t tell anyone; it’s too important. If you kill me it won’t matter; I figured on dying tonight anyway.”

“Do you want to die?”

“Not really.”

“Then you’d better tell us something we can use. What is he doing in that factory? How long will he be there? How many men are with him?”

Dennis realized that Eduardo, who’s name he had picked up from the other men, was purposely not using Onion’s name because he still didn’t know if Dennis was bluffing. Dennis decided to show some of his cards.

“Darth Onion is waiting in that factory for me.” With a bit of surprise, he realized that the men believed him. “I don’t know how many are with him, but I’m he’ll have at least enough to be sure he can kill me when I get inside.” In response to unspoken questions, he continued. “Last time I had some luck in dodging his lightening. He won’t take any chances.”

For the first time, someone besides Dennis and Eduardo spoke. “Did the lightening just stop working?” A teenager standing in the back asked. Dennis was shocked to hear in his thoughts that this had indeed happened previously. Some members of another gang caught Onion off guard and beat him up. But of course! Dennis knew that gangsters had attacked Pettigrew, just before he announced his intention to run for mayor. He just hadn’t thought about that since he discovered who Pettigrew really was.

“No. The lightening worked, but I hid behind a dumpster.” He could hear that the level of respect for him in the room was increasing. He could also hear that Eduardo was going through some kind of internal debate.

“Okay, untie him,” he finally ordered. One of the boys did so. “We’re going to go after Onion together, all right? If you try to double-cross me, I will personally slit your white throat, and we’ll probably kill you later anyway. But not until Onion is dead.” Dennis nodded. “Now tell me why you were going in there by yourself.” Dennis took a deep breath.

“I have to go in there, because he’s got my girlfriend. His goons kidnapped her this afternoon. But that’s not the most important thing I should tell you. If things don’t go as planned tonight, and you’re still going to fight him, you should know this. I can tell you who Darth Onion really is.”

“Okay, who is he?”

“He’s Dr. Gerald Pettigrew, a history professor at Mammoth State.”

“A history professor? Is he a white man?”

“Um, yes.”

“Figures.”

* * *

Darth Onion was faced with a dilemma. He had been mulling it over for several minutes, and couldn’t decide between two options. His forces were clearly under attack, but it was unclear how to ward off that attack while at the same time advancing his own interests. Also, he suspected a trap. Maybe there was a third option…

“You gonna move or what?” Carry glared at him from the chair in which she was tied.

“I am thinking,” he responded, his voice sounding like James Earl Jones because of his voice synthesizer.

“You’ve been thinking for ten minutes. If you don’t hurry up and move, we won’t get this game finished before Dennis rescues me.”

“Your level of overconfidence is astonishing.” Pronouncements like that sounded so dramatic with the synthesizer that he made them whenever possible.

“The knight or the rook! Just pick one!”

“Very well.” He moved the knight.

“Finally! Now I am moving my white bishop to—” She was interrupted by a member of Red Death who ran into the room, chains clanking.

“Darth Onion, he’s here! The guy you told us to watch for is walking down 42nd.”

“Excellent. Double-check that only the main doors will open. Allow him to enter the building, then jump him once he is well inside. If possible, bring him to me alive, but do not let him escape.”

“Can we rough him up?”

“Feel free.”

As his minion left the room, Onion turned to Carry and saw tears in her eyes. “Do you still feel so certain of being rescued?” He asked.

“Bishop to King Square Six. Check.”

Feeling a sudden urge to finish the game quickly, both players began to speed up their moves. It had been evenly matched, but Darth Onion was gaining the upper hand. A few minutes later, they were interrupted again by the same messenger.

“Darth Onion, there’s a problem!”

“What problem?”

“That guy we were watching for got nabbed by Eduardo’s boys.”

“And you didn’t stop them?”

“We didn’t have enough guys! Anyway, you said to avoid other gangs tonight.” The self-proclaimed Sith Lord rose from his seat, extending a black-gloved hand. “Look, I’m sorry, man! We’ll go after them if you want.”

“Phone.” Carry winced as electricity shot from Onion’s fingertips, surging through the teenager in the doorway and making sparks off his red chains. The charge only lasted a few seconds, and the boy, who had been shocked before, recovered quickly. “You will take half the men who are here and pursue them. Don’t worry about bringing back Dennis alive. Just kill him. Deliver the same instructions to the men you leave behind.” The shocked youth nodded and hurried out the door. Darth Onion returned to his seat and looked over the chessboard. “Who’s move was it?” He asked.

* * *

The band sent out by Darth Onion met the bulk of the attacking force halfway. A gang fight of this magnitude had not happened for some time. Due to his lack of street skills, Dennis had been kept in the back of the advancing force. Once the fight started, he stayed hidden and gradually worked his way toward the factory, using his telepathy to tell him when it was safe to move. When he finally reached the building, the battle was still some distance away. Approaching the main doors, he listened carefully for minds on the other side, but didn’t hear any. That probably meant they were hidden inside, watching but not visible. He thought about looking for a side entrance, but decided that Pettigrew would have covered all his bases. The only thing to do was move forward and hope his luck continued to hold.

Dennis entered the building, closed the door behind him, and found himself in a large dark room, littered with rusty equipment. He walked forward softly, gripping a big stick Eduardo had given him, and continuing to strain for any sound of the gang members he knew must be inside. He was halfway to the back wall when he finally heard them coming and realized he was in a trap. They rushed at him from all directions, and he barely had time to climb on top of a large machine. A desperate game of King Of the Hill ensued.

* * *

The gangsters fighting outside saw it first: A brilliant magenta light, shining into the sky like a spotlight, and moving rapidly in their direction. It got close, rounded a corner, and they saw its source: A shining figure, shaped like a woman but floating half a foot about the ground and apparently made of pure light. It came to a stop several feet from the combatants and dropped to the ground, rapidly dimming and resolving into a woman. She was wearing a flashy costume of the same color as the light (which was now gone), including a mask, which hid her features. Everyone stopped fighting to look at her.

“Where is Darth Onion?” She demanded in a haughty, regal tone. No one spoke. She raised her arms and gave a yell. A ball of magenta light appeared in front of her hands and shot forward, hitting two of the gangsters. They screamed as the intense heat scorched their skin and clothing before it dissipated. “Where is he?” She demanded again. Someone quickly volunteered the information. She transformed once more into the shining figure and rushed off in the direction of the factory.

Dennis was just beginning to think that he wouldn’t last much longer, when the main factory doors collapsed in a burning heap, revealing the shining figure in the doorway. The gangsters took one look at her and ran, disappearing through a door at the back of the room. The figure floated over the fire, then resolved into human form and began purposefully but unhurriedly walking after them. As she passed the machine, on which Dennis was still standing with his stick, she paused and commented, “I’d teach you a lesson, except that’s what Darth Onion would want.” She continued on and disappeared through the door herself.

The nearly-finished chess game, which Onion was about to win, was interrupted a third time by all of the gangsters trying to rush in at once. “What is the meaning of this?” Their master demanded, happy for a chance to use that phrase, which he’d been practicing. His underlings all started talking at once, but he quickly gathered that something dangerous was headed his way. He found out what when a shining form floated into the room behind them, then resolved into the form of a woman in a flashy costume.

“Get out,” she said, motioning to the gangsters. “This is between me and him.” At a nod from their leader, they happily hurried past her, closing the door behind them.

Darth Onion rose from his chair, and the two costumed figures stared at one another for a long moment. “Who are you?” He finally asked.

“My name is M’Jenta,” she replied. “That’s em, apostrophe, capital jay e en tee a.”

“How clever.”

“It’s better than naming myself after a vegetable, Darth Onion.”

“Have we met before? I feel certain I would remember you.”

“Let’s just say your reputation precedes you.”

“Indeed. Phone!” As the lightening shot from his hand, M’Jenta changed back into light and rushed across the room, resolving again behind him. Before he could turn around, she raised her hands and hit him in the back with an energy ball. He fell to the floor, his outfit smoking.

“Ha! That was far too easy,” she gloated, hitting him with another ball as soon as he got up. When he started toward the door a second time, she let him go and turned to Carry. “I’m only doing this to get back at him,” she said, as she untied her.

Dennis met a smoking Darth Onion on the stairs, and almost forgot to dodge the halfhearted lighting bolt, he was so surprised by the thoughts he was hearing. A moment later, he met M’Jenta, who flew straight through him. A moment after that he met Carry, and forgot all about everything else.

While Dennis and Carry were becoming reacquainted upstairs, and the gangs were getting as far away from the factory as they could manage, Darth Onion and M’Jenta were coming to a realization. At first they both thought it would be over in moments. She caught up to him in the main room, and shot a huge energy ball, intending to half-kill him. In an act of desperation, he shot lightening and made her cry at the same time. The lightening barely reached her because of the distance, but it did reach her, and to his delight the energy ball veered to one side, missing him and damaging some equipment. Quickly moving forward, he shot lightening again, continuing to make her cry, but this time she changed into light and it didn’t hurt her. She moved to a new spot and shot more energy, but as soon as she took physical form she started crying, and was again unable to control the direction. They did this half a dozen more times and started a few fires before Darth Onion said, “Stalemate.”

“What?”

“Stalemate. I can’t kill you and you can’t kill me. The game is over.”

“Then what do you propose?”

“I propose that we discuss a truce.”

Meanwhile, Dennis and Carry, having become thoroughly reacquainted, had quietly gone down the stairs, out a back door, and back into civilization.