Episode 091

                "Forfeit the game,
                Before somebody takes you out of the frame,
                And puts your name to shame,
                Cover up your face,
                You can't run the race,
                The pace is too fast,
                You just won't last."
                                Linkin Park, Points of Authority

                In the early hour, Mint stood before her door, her leather whip in her hand. At the base of the handle, the sharp metal point extended as she let the shorter buisness end face out. Her hand neared the handle of the door as she moved her shoulders inside her flanel robe. One last glance at the clock reminded her of the preposterous hour.

                "Mint, it's me." Came Ken's voice again. "Open up." There was something in his voice that worried her. She took the handle of the door and opened it just a crack, the chain keeping them apart. But in the neon light of the motel hallway, Ken stood in his suit, his tie hanging loosely from his collar as he looked in at her. His face was red with exursion and he was still breathing a bit hard.

                "Ken." She said, closing the door enough to undo the chain, then she opened it again. "What are you doing here? What's going on?"

                "Did you hear?" He asked with a breathless voice, a worried and rushed look on his face. Mint stood in her hotel doorway, staring at him as the early morning stars were just barely beginning to disappear in the lap of the mountains.

                "Hear what?" She asked in horror. "And good morning to you too."

                "Phillip assualted the Investigator's Clan." Ken said with a hard swallow, his words draining the small woman of all color. "Aaron's been taken into Hand custody."

                "Yeah, dad." Roland said, into the pay phone at the police station. Leaning against the blue box, he rubbed his eyes against the harsh day that was coming in from the windows that formed the police station's front wall. "The car's totaled. I mean, there's nothing left." He turned around, curling the silver metal phone cord under his arm as he looked out past Ledger, into the police station waiting room. "Well, what did you expect, dad?" He asked, turning back around. "Some guys blew up my car."

                Ledger looked away, walking over to one of the benches. He sat down, sighing hard. He checked the watch on his wrist, then just dropped his arm in exhausted annoyance. He slumped back in the wide bench, letting his head fall back onto the low seatback.

                "Hey." Roland said, coming to standing over Ledger's hanging head, looking down at him. "You look funny upside-down."

                "You look funny anyway about it." Ledger countered without moving his head. "What'd your old man say?"

                "He said that he'll call then insurance since the car's technically on their policy." The knight said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "My mom said hi, by the way."

                Ledger waved at Roland. "Hi, mom." He said emotionlessly. The black knight sat up and turned around in the seat. "So, what's going to happen then?"

                "Well, they've got good insurance, so we'll probably get a new car." Roland shrugged, the shock of the ordeal long gone. Now, he looked more like a bored child in a room without any toys. "I mean, I've still got the truck, so transportation isn't much of a problem."

                "No, I mean about this." Ledger said, motioning to the police station. "We filed a report, yeah." He nodded at Roland. "What are WE going to do?"

                "We're going to call Everett and have his punk-ass come and pick us up." Roland's mind slowed after that. He looked down at the floor, seeming to kick at the tiles with his sneaker. "After that . . ." His voice trailed off.

                "So where do things stand?" Mint asked across from Ken. In the all-night breakfast resturaunt, the two crowded around one another in the corner, whispering as they rushed from one thought to the next. "I mean, has the whole Investigator's Clan been taken into custody? Has just Aaron and his men? What's going to happen?"

                "I don't know." Ken answered with a sigh, nervously looking around the greasy, dilapidated establishment. "I can't get any type of response from Phillip's office. My guess is he's preparing his official statement to the rest of the Brotherhood."

                "But what about the Triumvirate?" Mint insisted.

                "I have no idea." Ken implored. "The Brotherhood's falling apart, but the Triumvirate's not doing anything." He shook his head, his worry only growing. "I mean, they have to know that something's going on, but why they haven't contacted anyone is beyond me." He took a deep breath and laid his forehead down on his templed hands. After a silent moment, a sorrowful chuckle appeared from underneath Ken's head. "I almost wish Jericho was still around."

                "Don't say things like that." Mint said with disgust. "For all you know, this could have been Jericho's ploy that Phillip's implementing."

                "Jericho may have been megalomaniacal, but not like this." Ken said, shaking his head. "I don't care what anyone says, Jericho knew how to be a team player and he never, ever would have made a move like this."

                "Here's to hoping." Mint toasted his words cynically.

                "So what happened?" Malcolm asked, as he sat across from Marilyn and Victor in the university food court. Next to him, Kim sat with entranced eyes on Marilyn. "Did the conversation just stop? Just like that?"

                "Just like that." Marilyn nodded. "It was the weirdest thing." She said, shaking her head. "I mean, one minute, we're talking about the Brotherhood of the Sun and then suddenly, I just stop getting any messages. I can send stuff, but he just doesn't respond."

                "This is your informant, right." Victor asked.

                "Yeah." Marilyn nodded. "The same guy who told you all about the stuff with the drugs under the corporate building." She looked away, making sure no one had heard, then back to the small table. "And he's still on-line right now. That's the weird thing. He's been on all night."

                "Weird." Malcolm said. He sat back in thought. "You don't suppose . . ." He started, his voice trailing off.

                "Suppose what?" Kim asked with her mouth half-full with a grilled cheese sandwich.

                "That, I don't know." Malcolm shrugged. "Maybe something happened to him?"

                "Well, duh." Victor retorted.

                "No." Malcolm said. "I mean, something bad."

                The door to Phillip's office opened. The commander of the Hand of the Brotherhood and the Miracle Worker's Clan strolled happily in, a giant smile beaming on his face. Behind him, his aid came in behind him, looking less delightful.

                Phillip swung around and sat down with a heavy drop onto the seat behind his desk. He put his hands onto his clear desk and smiled with a laugh. He looked at his aid, the man's mood not affecting Phillip at all. "How're things going?"

                The aid started to speak, his hands in front of his waist, but he stopped. "Well, sir." He started again. "Not well." He finally got out. "We've got men all over all the Investigator Clan's terminals, but we still can't get at the files themselves. It looks like many of them were destroyed, while others were encrypted with a program that we . . ."

                "Pish-posh." Phillip laughed, waving his hand. "I could care less about that crap." He turned his chair to the side, as if staring at the wall. "No, I mean with Aaron and his chronies. I mean with those ballless traitors."

                "Errol is still giving us some trouble." The aid said, swallowing. "Ian put up a fight, but he's pretty much come around. Orson gave in almost immediately, which has me worried."

                "And Aaron?" Phillip asked. He looked at the aid without turning his chair back to him, a joyful smile on his face. "Did you put him where I told you to?"

                The aid was hesitant in answering. "Yes sir." the aid said. "He's already been in there since his apprehension."

                "A car bomb." Edgar said, as he sat in his recliner, across from Everett and Ledger. The two young black men sat with empty hands in Edgar's den, the library of books surrounding them. "That just seems silly."

                "Well, it wasn't when the thing went off." Ledger smarted.

                "I don't doubt that, Ledger." Edgar said with a cynical laugh. "But let's be realistic. If they had wanted you dead, a car bomb is not the way that any sane, reasonable, or otherwise concernable person would have gone about it."

                "I don't know." Everett disagreed with thought. "If they knew he was a knight, it might have been the only safe way to go about it."

                "Then you think it was someone who was going after a knight?" Edgar asked, as if posing a question he already knew the answer to.

                "There's lots of people like that." Ledger voiced.

                "I know." Everett said, still thinking. "But seriously? We've been butting heads with the Brotherhood of the Sun now for awhile. They know who we are and what we are." He looked at Ledger. "And we've kicked their asses repeatedly."

                "It's true." Ledger nodded, looking at Edgar.

                "My bet would be," Everett said. "It was someone in the Brotherhood. And someone whom is very, very mad at us."