I was a bald sweaty mess by the time I made it back to the main compound. As predicted, the CIA and Homeland had things well under control. King and his leadership team were not yet apprehended, but their attack had been stalled enough by the destruction of the satellite dishes that the CIA could take care of the rest.
A group of employees waited in the front of the building while the spies went through the place. I had texted Sloane about the "special" side of the place, and I headed over that way, flashing my ID to all who could see, although I got plenty of suspicious looks thanks to my new 'do.
Once inside, I noticed that all the King and Terry screens were black. The place clearly had power, so I saw that as a move by King to take advantage of his abilities. Maybe he was gone already, or maybe he and Vizier were too busy destroying evidence to leave.
I made my way toward the entrance to the evil side of King Industries and introduced myself to the agents stationed there. I warned them of King's condition, and received a lot of shade until I explained that I had the same ailment, and proved it to them right there on the spot.
As crowds came pass, I instructed the agents to make sure everyone removed his or her hats, if they were worn. I stood there eyeing everyone who came out, making sure they weren't extremely average evil masterminds.
I kept glancing at the picture of King on my company ID, even though I didn't need it. He may slip the minds of most, but not me. And I wouldn't be surprised if he recognized me, even with my new haircut. We recognize our own.
And there it was — King's white hair popping out of the crowd like the shark's fin breaking through the waves in Jaws. At least it was to me — the other agents paid him no heed. I moved in toward him, and we made eye contact.
He started to push toward the opposite side of the crowd, but I was on him, yelling for assistance, but not receiving any from my confused associates. It didn't matter. I was torched and tired, but King was not getting away.
I grabbed his arm and pulled him toward me. He swung wildly at my face with his free hand, but it was ridiculously telegraphed that I easily moved out of the way and pulled up on the arm I had, forcing him to quickly give up. I introduced King to the other agents, who took him away.
And I guess that was it. It was over. But I felt pretty much the same as I did on any Sloane case. Just wondering how much I had done to save the say or if all was well in hand when I called in the cavalry.
I went toward the front of the building to find Sloane. I didn't think he'd give me any answers, but just wanted to be where the action was.
And that's when I saw Jen.
She was beautiful, naturally, and speaking calmly to a few agents, going over what had happened. She looked calm and in control, but her eyes were full, and she had her arms wrapped around her, literally holding herself together. The image of Dagger's fall was heavy in my mind, and I had no doubt Jen was wrestling with the same image.
A traumatic experience can stain the brain, making each moment — and person — difficult to erase. Maybe even someone immediately forgettable to most.
I nervously rubbed the fuzz on my head. She might be my Belle. Only one way to find out. I walked up behind her as she was finishing with the agents.
"Hi Jen."
She turned and smiled sadly. My heart leapt.
"Hi. Can I help you?"
And now my heart sank. Ouch.
"It's me, Terry Laine?"
"Oh, right, from Farm Technology Monthly. I'm sorry Mr. Laine but we will need to reschedule your tour. It's a little crazy here."
"Yeah. I can see that. No problem. Nice meeting you."
"Nice meeting you, too. I look forward to taking you on a tour."
And just like that, it
all
fell
apart.
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Immediately Forgettable
PertualanganTerry Laine has the world's worst superpower - no one can remember who he is the second they lose eye contact with him. He's learned to live with it with a sense of humor and a constant feeling of loneliness. After he foolishly finds a way to use th...