Penman Panic: Author's Club Takes Over the World!

Part 3

Penman Panic

Part 3: The State

                Zach was oddly at home. He was surrounded by five monitors, all lit up into vague patterns. He was in a van, parked outside of the capital building. Off to one hand was a chessboard; the other, a keyboard. He drummed his fingers ever so eerily on the table. It was beautifully cliché. “Well,” he purred, feline smirk slipping in like an innuendo into a children’s TV show, “Let’s begin shall we?”

                “Jaden, Jackson. Begin the entry.”

                Jaden and Jackson (also his sock puppet) were crouched on the roof. Pulling out a screwdriver from Jackson’s utility belt, they slowly worked open a vent shaft. Jaden jumped in first. Upon realizing that the vents would not take his weight, time seemed to slow down. He felt the metal ripple under his feet as he hit the bottom of the shaft. It tickled as the edges bit at his skin coming through. He felt the ceiling give. He felt the solid oak table he fell onto approximately three feet from where he started falling. He really felt that one. He then felt Jackson. Who was now on his spine. Rearranging it. At least it was tasteful. And oh, it hurt like a mother.

                “That was cool.” Jackson said, standing unfazed. Jaden groaned; partially at his friend’s utter inability to observe the world around him, partly at his sore entire body.

                “You guys in?” Zack said, grin almost audible through the headset.

                “Yeah, but we’re in the wrong room.” Jaden responded, sitting up and seeing the pretty stars in his vision. “We fell through the vent.”

                “Oh, no, that was the plan. I knew that couldn’t support you.”

                “What? Why didn’t you tell us?”

                Silence.

                “Anyways,” began Jaden, finally standing now, “where should we go from here?”

                “Big oak door. Should be locked. Get it picked.”

                “Wait, pick a lock?” Jaden spat. “I can’t do that!”

'               “Neither can I.” said Jackson. “But Mr. Woolsworth can.”

                “Who’s Mr. Woolsworth?” It hit Jaden. “You don’t mean your puppet, do you?”

                As it turns out, he did. In fact, the lock dropped with such relative ease that it appeared to be second-nature. Jackson explained that Woolsworth was a prison sock, and had served hard time in the dryer. Desperate times had required desperate measures to feet his mitten and two small baby socks. He had seen the light with his hero, Jackson, and was willing to serve him until he was old and tattered. It was endearing, like watching an asylum patient pet a kitten with a tennis racket because they knew no better.

                There had been one flaw in the plan. Falling through vent shafts isn’t quiet. In fact, it is relatively loud. Enough for seventeen armed troopers with full auto guns to be ready in squad formation. Seeing this as an opportunity to die for the good of his brethren, Jaden ran towards them. They all fired a full, 16-shot clip. Every single bullet missed, having the accuracy of a standardized test score. In fact, not only did they miss Jade, but in some miracle, they missed Jackson as well. One bullet, however, grazed Mr. Woolsworth, severing his carotid thread. He unraveled in less than a few seconds, giving tearful Jackson the parting words of “I see a light… and smoke… is that fire? Jackson! Why couldn’t you save me?” and then being dead, or at least as dead as a sock can be.

                “Oh bloody come on!” said Jaden, completely unaware of the tragic yarn unfolding.

                “You killed him. You killed my sock.” Jackson looked up at them, whatever shred of human reasoning so far gone from this man even Jack from The Shining thought he needed help. Jackson bolted forward, kicking one of the guards off of the bannister, impaling him on a flag. He proceeded to lay the unholy smackdown on all sixteen others before stopping. Turning to the pale-faced Jaden, he smiled. “I feel better now.” Jaden quivered, unwilling to tell him he still had a stray piece of kidney on his face.

                The two of them, under Zack’s careful eye, progressively took out both senators. Jaden had failed to be horrifically killed in a way that would be sung about for generations, and was rather unhappy with that in mind. They quickly took out the senators, catching them off guard. That was rather amazing, considering the uproar they had thrown the place into.

                “Wait there.” Zack began.  “Sending in Liam. He’s worked stage; picked up enough to make you two into the senators long enough for us to enact phase 3.”

                “There he is.” Jaden said. Liam came in wordlessly, gave them the props, adjusted the make-up, applied the rubber bits, and did essentially everything to make them look as close as possible. They ended up more than passing for them. In fact, the resemblance was so eerie, they could skip killing the senator’s wives. Zack wasn’t pleased.

                Liam was finished. He stood up, gave a nod, and turned out the door. Zack, who had come into the building, caught his head, snapped his neck, dropped him and looked up at the two teammates. “Oh, did I mention he barely qualified for a cameo? Either way, if we keep up this charade for a few weeks, the senate session will come back, and we’ll have our in to DC. Pat yourself on the backs, gentlemen. We’ve won this round. WHS Amateur Author’s Club is well on our way to taking over the world.”