Episode 082 Previous Episode	Next Episode
“Dedication (ded-i-kay-shun) – Selfless devotion; complete and wholehearted fidelity; the act of binding one’s self to a course of action.” American Heritage Dictionary Marilyn’s apartment was almost completely underground. Down a cement flight of stairs to an unfinished drywall landing, Everett and Ledger followed her into the space lit by a single, bare bulb. Four doors waited for them, three of them once painted lime that had now faded into a bizarre hybrid of green and yellow. The fourth door, its white paint chipping, looked rusted and heavy. “That’s the storage room,” Marilyn said absently, dressed in her Crimson Rose outfit, her helmet held under her arm. “The other two apartments are empty.” She came to the door next to the storage room and slipped her key into the handle. Unlocking the door, she then unlocked the deadbolt and waited. Ledger and Everett looked at one another as Marilyn seemed to count visibly. She knocked three times, then twice, then opened the door. Waiting inside looked to be the meanest-looking dog either of the knights had ever seen. The mixed-breed mongrel’s back rose as it glared at them, its teeth bared. “Wizard, no!” Marilyn insisted. The dog immediately looked to her and started to whimper affectionately. The huge dog, coming up to her waist, began to rub against her, licking at her hands as she began to take off her costume. Shutting the door behind him, Everett looked at the tiny studio apartment. A futon lay in the corner, a small television with a DVD player and a stack of movies next to it. Several cheap bookshelves lined the wall between the bed and the kitchen space, all of them on the verge of overflowing, some of the shelves warping from the weight. Against the opposite wall, maps of the city covered the unfinished paint job, while various exercise apparatus littered the corner. Notebooks were stacked neatly in the opposing corner, various handwritten notes sticking out. The dinette table was the only thing away from the walls. “Jesus. Ev’s living room is bigger than this,” Ledger said as he walked into the center of the room. “What is this place?” Marilyn turned from the table, taking her jacket off, a black tank top underneath. “The Crimson Rose cave?” she offered with a smile. Everett knelt down over the notebooks and opened the one on the top. Inside, he found an array of notations about police radio signals. “Monitoring police bands?” he asked, looking at her. “The police know everything that goes on in this city,” Marilyn said, walking towards one of the two doors against the far wall. She opened it to reveal a tiny closet. “Whether or not they do anything about it is another story,” she said, taking out a pair of jeans and sneakers. She turned to the other door, a bathroom inside. “I don’t know if they’re lazy or on the take or what, but this city has one of the slowest police response times in the nation.” She stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door. Everett looked at Ledger and they both looked at the dog. The big black beast growled at them, its haunches rising. Everett looked at Ledger and Ledger turned away, holding his hands up in surrender. Everett turned to the dog and knelt down to it, looking the dog in the eyes. The dog growled again, its teeth bare. Everett held out his hand to the dog. “Do you really think we mean Marilyn any harm?” he asked the dog. The dog licked its chops. “We’re friends,” he said in a firm, but calm tone. “We don’t mean you, nor Marilyn, any harm.” Wizard stared for a moment longer, then whimpered. He walked to Everett and licked his hand. Everett grinned and patted the dog as he stood. “What do you think?” he asked quietly. “I think this girl’s nuts,” Ledger declared. “I think you need to get as far away from her as possible.” “Could we please not make this about my hypothetical feelings for her?” Everett asked. “Dude, this will always come down to your real feelings for her,” Ledger countered, stepping close to keep from being heard. “You wouldn’t put up with this crap from someone unless you really, really liked them.” Ledger was about to say more when the bathroom door opened. Dressed informally in jeans and worn running shoes, Marilyn stepped out, her hair done up in a high ponytail, two long bangs falling down on either side of her face. With only the tank top on, Everett watched her muscular shoulders as she walked to the cabinets next to the 70s-style refrigerator. “Would you guys like something?” she asked, taking out a can of dog food. Everett tilted, checking the high-end brand of food. “I’m good.” “At the moment, whiskey’s what I need,” Ledger said, looking at the shelves of books. “Jesus, woman!” he exclaimed. “You’ve the Anarchist Cookbook!” “Well, yeah,” she said, pouring the food into the dog bowl. She looked across the room where wizard sat, eyeing the bowl. “Go ahead,” she said. The dog scampered across the room, attacking the bowl voraciously. “He’s seriously well-trained,” Everett said. “Especially for a mutt.” “I got him at an abused animal shelter,” Marilyn said, scratching Wizard’s head. “He was so small and skinny. His previous owner had barely fed him and kept him chained up outside. When he was rescued, they had to perform surgery to remove the chain from his skin, it had grown into his actual flesh.” “Wow,” Ledger remarked, looking at the dog. “I brought him home and within a few months, he just kind of exploded,” she said. She scratched Wizard as the dog licked the bowl completely clean. “He’s my guard dog and my best friend.” “This is the dog that ended you and Victor, wasn’t it?” Everett remarked. Marilyn tried to hide her uncomfortable look as she continued to lavish attention on Wizard. “Say what?” Ledger spoke up. “Don’t you remember?” Everett asked, turning to him. “Victor broke up with her because she got a dog. At least according to Malcolm, before he moved out west.” “It was a mutual decision,” Marilyn insisted, standing up. Everett nodded, his hands in his trench coat pockets. He looked around the room. “This is a…nice place you’ve got.” Marilyn grinned, half-laughing. “It’s a rat hole,” she said with cynical pride. “I found the cheapest apartment I could and have been funneling everything I make into the Crimson Rose.” “Yeah,” Ledger said, flipping through a mail-order catalog. “I see you’ve about got the whole survivalist collection.” “I need equipment and they happen to provide it,” she said, unashamed. “A lot of those books,” she said, gesturing to the center bookshelf, “showed me how to make a lot of the stuff I use. If you apply the right know-how and a little bit of ingenuity, it’s amazing what you can make from stuff you can get at Home Depot.” “But it’s all jury-rigged stuff you’ve thrown together,” Everett said. “I mean, what if it gives out?” “Like your sword did?” Ledger remarked, still flipping through the catalog. “Yeah, let’s talk about my sword,” Everett said, first giving Ledger an annoyed glare before turning his attention to Marilyn. “You do realize that he, or I, or any of the knights, might have killed you.” “Might,” she responded with a smile. “But didn’t. Everett, I knew from the start that at some point, one day, I was going to be dealing with the knights. And, I’m sorry, but I prepared for that contingency. I know the type of swords you guys carry and…yeah.” “So you specifically planned how to beat us?” Ledger asked, tossing the catalog onto the bookshelf. “Beat, no,” she said, walking to the shelf, putting the catalog in its correct place, three books down in a disheveled stack. “Survive, yes.” She turned to Everett. “You guys have a gift. A wonderful, amazing gift, and you’re squandering it. You’re wasting it.” “Marilyn, I really don’t want to start arguing ideologies with you,” Everett said. “Yes, you do,” she insisted, her arms crossed as she stood her ground. “That’s what this is all about: ideology. What you think is right versus what I think is right. Or should we start arguing morality? Or fairness? Or how about justice?” “Ooh,” Ledger said before coughing. Marilyn and Everett both turned to him. “Okay, I absolutely hate that I’m going to do this, but I’ve got to give you props for that one. That was good.” He held out his fist to Marilyn. To Everett’s surprise, she banged knuckles with him. Everett turned away, closing his eyes. As he sighed, Wizard came over to him and rubbed against his leg, licking his hand. “It’s gonna be a long night,” he lamented quietly.
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