Episode 089

                “Ido, there are two kinds of people in this life - some that are the guinea pigs, and the others that have the right to take the scalpel to them.”

                                Desty Nova, Battle Angel Alita: Angel of Victory

                Red.

                It took Aaron a moment to comprehend that idea. The idea of 'red' seemed strangely alien to him. 'Red' just seemed wrong, seemed impossible. 'Red' just didn't work in his hazy view of the world. 'Red' was a factor that just seemed like it was out of place.

                Aaron lifted his head off his desk, rubbing his jaw where it had been on the spacebar and the alt key. He looked around, staring at the red as he became aware of a low humming. He closed his eyes, flinching as the low, soft humming quickly became a loud blaring.

                An alarm.

                Aaron's eyes shot open as the sleep disappeared from his system. He looked up at the warning light over his door as the warning klaxon burst out the red emergency light while the horn sounded the alarm.

                The head of the Investigaor's clan shot to his feet, knocking his styrofoam cup of cold coffee onto the floor. He turned back to his desk, banging aggressively on the top of the desk just above the right-hand draw to make it pop open.

                Inside the draw, a felt case held a pistol and three clips.

                Aaron grabbed the pistol out of the case and rushed to the door. He checked the metal entrance for sound, then he opened the doorway, letting the front of his pistol lead the way. The hallways were empty, only the pale white light and darkness shattered by the beacon-flashing of red that echoed each heartbeat, breath, and siren alert.

                Aaron moved down the hall quickly, his eyes darting around the long expanse, looking for movement. He didn't find it. But in the instant juxstaposition of the red light and white light, with the shadows the only thing that was constant, even though they moved, he could see very little.

                Aaron came to a door that was cracked and he stopped. He checked around the hallway again, then glanced back up at the door to make sure that it still read 'Errol' on it's simple nameplate.

                Aaron grabbed the handle and pushed the door in, sliding nimbly into the room. He shut the door quickly, but silently and turned around.

                Four Hand agents stood around Errol, the aid tied to his chair.

                There was a knock at the door. Morgan looked up from his table, notes scattered around the kitchen to the point of falling off the counter top. He glared at the front door and narrowed his eyes. He began to grumble in coherently as he stumbled to his feet and stalked towards the door. With an angry growl, he threw open his front door.

                Marilyn stared back at him.

                The former knight blinked at the founder of the World Alliance. "What do you want?” He asked after a moment, staring at Marilyn.

                “I needed to talk to you.” She said, looking honestly at Morgan.

                "Me, specifically?" He asked. She nodded. He leaned against the doorframe in disbelief. “Why in the world do you want to talk to me?”

                “Because I trust you.” She answered.

                “Why in the world do you trust me?” Morgan pressed with an exasberated tone.

                “Because you don’t like me.” She answered.

                He seemed to think about that for a moment, then stepped back from the door, opening it for her. “Fair enough. Come on in.”

                The door to Aaron's office flew open as he rushed in. Jumping back as soon as his feet cleared the portal, he jammed his door closed, barricading it with his body. He hit the lock, then turned around and secured it with the four braces at every corner. He grabbed the table next to the door and yanked it in front of the door.

                He bolted from the door and ran to the black window that was the bulk of his rear wall. He kicked the filing cabinet into the second cabinet, which hit the wall. But it landed on a large, red security button. Immediately, metal shutters descended down around the window, blocking off the nighttime sky.

                "First time I've used that and it hasn't been an accident." The clan head mumbled as he spun around the corner of his desk and yanked open his keyboard. He pushed the keyboard off the sliding shelf and ripped the plastic wood covering away to expose a second gel-green touchpad keyboard.

                He heard the doorhandle move.

                Aaron began to type in commands. His computer screen on the corner of his desk came to life as entire files began to disappear.

                The door shook, as if it had been struck.

                "Damn it!" Aaron cursed. He hit a final button and then reached down to the touchpad, grabbing it between the 'G' and the 'H'. He gently pushed the pad apart, revealing a few buttons and a thumb scanner. "Aaron." He said quickly, glancing back at the door.

                The door shook again.

                "Initiate command protocal Alpha-Tango-Delta- . . ." He stopped, his mind going blank. "Damn, it!" He cursed. "What was it?"

                The door shook. This time, it resounded more violently.

                A shot.

                "Initiate command protocal Theta-Epsilon-Omega-Phi." He said. The floorboard in front of his seat opened up, a metal slide that shot straight down appeared at his feet. He took one glance back at the door, then pushed off his seat, dropping down into the darkness beneath his desk.

                "What's on your mind?" Morgan asked, as he handed Marilyn a glass of iced tea. "It's pretty late. Won't Victor be mad at you?"

                "Victor's the reason I'm here." She said, her head down as she sat on his couch. "I'm worried about him."

                "Why?" Morgan asked with an almost mock sincereity. "Because he's a lying dick who's life is in danger and he probably doesn't even know it?"

                "Why do you guys hate him so much?" Marilyn yelled.

                "Guys?" Morgan asked. "If you're lumping me in with Everett and the rest of the knights, you and me are going to have problems."

                "You keep saying you're not a knight." Marilyn asked angrily. "Then why do you associate with them and act like them?"

                "I act like them?" Morgan laughed. "Marilyn, I've been a knight since grade school. It's a hard habit to break. And besides, they can at least think, which is more than I can say for most people I run into in my day to day life." He sat back, taking a bitter gulp from his water.

                The girl brushed her hair back behind her ears and looked around. The sparse house that Morgan called his home seemed artificial and fake, inspite of it's warm decorations. "Do you really think he's lying?" Marilyn asked after a moment, looking back at Morgan.

                "Probably." The former knight nodded. "He seems like the type that would lie a lot. Probably about anything."

                "Why would he lie to me?" She asked. Morgan just gave her a look. "Okay. Dumb question, I guess. But, well, how can I tell if he’s lying to me?” She implored.

                "I don't know." Morgan shrugged uncaringly. "Ask Victor if he's thought about something that every guy on this planet would think about.”

                “Like what?” She asked.

                “Don’t be dense.” Morgan said. He held up his hand. “Go sexual. There’re four things every guy has thought about. He’s thought about with you and your best friend, if not a family member. He’s thought about, oh how can I put his politely, alternate entry points. Let’s leave it at that. He’s thought about you in a public place. And he’s thought about you in some type of strange and outlandish outfit, one that you probably wouldn’t be caught dead in.”

                "That doesn't seem like Victor." Marilyn said. She pulled her sweater closer around herself, rubbing her arms for a moment. She looked back at the silent Morgan. "What question do you think I should ask him? I mean, specifically?"

                Morgan took a sip from his own glass fo water and shook his head. “One question's as good as another. I’d ask him if he’s ever thought about you and Ruwani together.”
                “Together?” Marilyn puzzled. “Like dating together?”

                “Together.” Morgan sighed, appalled by Marilyn’s lack of knowledge. “Sleeping together. Screwing. Going at it. Getting it on. Coitus and Cunnilingus. Bumping uglies. Doing the horizontal tango. Getting your freak on. Doing the wild thing. Want more?” Marilyn looked away, like she was going to be sick. “Anyway,” Morgan continued. “If he says yes, then he’s telling the truth. If he says no, then he’s lying.”

                “That’s not true.” Marilyn protested.

                “Don’t believe me?” Morgan said. “Ask any guy. Ask any guy who knows both of you, who’s even seen either of you for more than a few minutes. Any guy. Guess what the answer will be.”

                “Have you?” She asked. "Have you ever thought about . . . us?"

                “Not fair.” Morgan said, shaking his head. “I try to think about you as little as possible.”

                “Why?”

                “Because I don’t like you, woman.” Morgan exclaimed. “We’ve been over this.”