Drifting Along the Infinite Spring

Chapter 19 Pt 3 - Playing with Fire

Martha heard her own voice as she floated in space - I'm not talking about dropping nukes. Just disruption... mischief.

And then James - But on a global scale?

Martha smelled sulfur -Yes.

And air conditioning - Global mischief?

Then she realized she wasn't in space but had a black bag over her head. Nor was she floating, but sitting in a chair, her hands bound behind and her feet below. She heard footsteps and suddenly the bag lifted.

Squinting until her eyes adjusted, she saw Kamalei Kekoa standing in front of her, holding the bag and chuckling. "Hūpō," he said, then walked to Nan, bound and seated a short distance to her right, and removed the bag from her head. Her jaw was clenched to feign courage, but Martha could see it in her eyes. She thought she was going to die.

A spotlight, just large enough to cover the women, beamed from above. Outside the circle, Martha could make out nothing, save for a faint orange glow in front of them.

Kekoa chuckled one last time before walking away. Just as Martha spied a gun tucked into the back of his pants, a deluge of blinding white light bombarded the women's faces. The guitar intro for Spin Doctors Two Princes erupted from seemingly every direction and the lighting changed.

The focus flipped from their faces to the black marble floor in front of them. Out of the shadows and into the light slid James, wearing a tux and putting Fred Astaire to shame as he skipped and tapped and flipped to the hippy scatting of the early 90s earworm.

James noticed the women and jumped back as if startled. "Oh wow!" he yelled over the music. "I didn't realize you two were there! How embarrassing!" A playful smile broke across his face. "I'm just kidding! You're my prisoners! Of course I knew you were there!" He began to pace in front of them. "You know, my plan was to blast this song at full volume on repeat, but then I thought, 'I'm a sadist, not a masochist!'"

He took a remote out of his vest pocket and clicked the music off. "Hooo! That's better. Man, I love this thing. Got me one of them universal remotes. It's got a button for the stereo... the tv... the garage... the lights..." He clicked a button and the lights again shone in their faces, forcing them to flinch their eyes shut . "Oops! Sorry," he said and switched the lights back. "Oh, I almost forgot! There's also a button on here that will permanently disable every single piece of technology on the planet. And the DVD player. It also controls the DVD player, on which, thankfully, I was able to finish my box set of Sex and the City just this morning, so we're all set for armageddon.

"Anyways, this remote is pretty amazing. Would you like a closer look?" He walked up to Martha, shoes clicking in rhythm, and held the remote inches from her nose. She kept her face flat and her eyes trained on his dispassionately. He was loving this and she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of her reaction.

He tossed the remote from one hand to the other. "Kind of crazy that I'm doing this, huh? I mean, sure, you're restrained, but you're resourceful. Maybe you get loose, grab it, smash it, and then my genius plan goes down the drain!" He put the remote back in his vest pocket.

"By the way," he continued. "You look damn sexy in black! Was that your plan? To come and win me over with your womanly wiles? Because I am considering it." He leaned in and kissed her and desire exploded within her chest. She pushed herself into him and sucked his lips into hers. Further and further she pushed, then quickly leaned back before smashing her forehead into his face.

He stumbled backward, shoes clicking, eyes blinking, with a hand to his jaw. Her forehead was on fire, which again, felt amazing. "Well done!" he called, then spit out a molar into his hands. "That will be nigh impossible to fix after tonight. Oh well." He tossed it behind him. Martha watched the tooth skip along the slick floor then fall off a ledge.

"But I'm not being a very good host, ignoring one of my guests." He approached Nan. "Nan Rochana... Quite an impressive-"

Nan spit in his face. "How dare you disrespect Agent Beckett, you pathetic lump of slime!" She leaned forward passionately, her hands bound behind her keeping her from attacking him. "Your insidious plan will fail. Oh yes, most certainly it will. Because Agent Beckett has more talent and integrity in one eyelash than you have in the whole of your vile, contemptible being!"

James gasped, then turned to Martha. "You brought me a true believer? Oh that is just awesome! Thank you, Agent Beckett. You shouldn't have." He crouched next to Nan, on the opposite side of Martha so that she could see both of their faces.

"That was a lovely speech, Miss Rochana," he stated with a patronizing smile. "But let me break it down to you, with all due respect: I am evil. And you are evil. And Martha is evil. I am good. And you are good. And Martha is good. Because there is no such thing as 'good' or 'evil' or 'right' or 'wrong.' These words aren't real, but imagined. They're poetic license to tell stories, marketing slogans to sell car insurance, or propaganda to elect politicians and justify war."

Nan turned her head to Martha and her eyes betrayed her breaking spirit. Behind Nan, James winked and Martha struggled to keep from rolling her eyes. Instead, she projected strength to her protégé. Nan turned back to James whose smirk shifted back to blue steel.

He stood and resumed pacing. "But don't worry, Miss Rochana. I have no intention of killing you. Nothing is guaranteed, but as far as I know, you will not die tonight. Granted... you will die – at some point. But also... you have died – countless times. You've died in the past and you'll die in the future. But when you died in the past it was the present and when you die in the future, it will be the present. So you've died in the past, present, and future. In truth, you've always been dead. You're dead right now as are The Talented Agent Beckett and I. And so you see – our deaths are meaningless, ergo, our lives are-"

"Okay, you've made your point," Martha interjected. They'd agreed that collateral damage was necessary, but what he was doing to Nan, head lowered and clearly struggling to keep it together, was plain cruelty.

"Really?" James said to Martha, eyebrows raised. "I paraphrase a little Schopenhauer and the CIA cries uncle? Whatever happened to A villain's gotta vill?" He shook his head. "Nope. Sorry. Still not a word.

"But maybe you're right," he considered, taking a step away from Martha to come equidistant the agents. "Enough with introductions and small talk. It's time to tour!"

Author's note:

James and I debated which song to torture the agents with.  Third Eye Blind was in the running.  So was Creed, Nickelback, and Chumbawamba.  What would be your go to song to inflict pain? 

Apologies to fans of the above. It's only a matter of taste.  :)