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-Apo Pantos Kakodaimonos-




Part Three has arrived!

A shorter first chap to set the scene somewhat.
Lots of dialogue, which is unusual for me.
Lots of hyphenation too, for some reason.
Please enjoy, all replies appreciated.
If you have any interesting thoughts
during the course of reading this chapter,
*I* want to hear them. Flames wanted too,
flaming someone shows emotion.

www.geocities.com/aescension
(dig the new stuff)




















Part 3 Beauty


December, 1100 A.D.


"This ground is not the rock I'd thought it to be."
			-Maynard James Keenan



    1

  Smog and smoke dissipated overhead in either direction as 
Zig and I trudged tiredly through the drenched streets south of 
Capitol Plaza. The farther we got from the dull orange glow, the 
clearer the sky became and stars peeked through. Constellations 
were completely foreign to me, the important ones had been 
pointed out before but I could not recognize any. I did not even 
really know what stars were; like I said, I had never done well in 
school. I remember my blatant lack of interest in anything that 
wasn't automobile related. It was a shame, that. But I guess you 
need life experience before life has meaning to you.

  This of course was Screw talking. 

  Somewhere back there I knew about all things 
astronomical, and when I looked back at the sparks above me, 
increasingly brilliant against a background of black, I remembered 
that they were huge balls of fused gas. The sun was a star. I nodded 
my head as I stepped in silence. My interest was returning with my 
concern like a stray mutt. Life had long been something for me that 
dragged me along behind it, and it was all I could do to keep up. 
Now, for better or for worse, I was back in control. I would have to 
make time instead of borrowing it. 

  My faculties had returned from that drug induced haze 
called insecurity. The great black wall was temporarily down.

  I picked up my pace when I realized Zig had gotten ahead 
of me, apparently unconcerned with the night sky. Coming to an 
intersection, we waited while cars passed quickly, and then crossed 
the street. The police force had finally retreated to their stations
to regroup and recuperate from the riots. The rioters themselves 
had been temporarily subdued; the ringleaders imprisoned and the 
rest sent home. Buildings and stores around us did not show the 
full signs of collateral damage, though many windows were broken
and there was even a wrecked car that had been pushed onto the 
sidewalk which was still burning. The masses were too confused 
and angry to realize that they only hurt themselves when they 
destroyed the businesses they patronized. But who could blame 
them? It hadn't even been their idea.

  Zig sat down on a wet park bench to rest, and ring the water 
out of his sleeves. The storm had subsided and now it was only 
really drizzling. By tomorrow even that would be gone and we 
would have clear whether for at least a month. It had been hard 
rain eventually giving way to hail which had helped the police 
drive the civilians back, maybe even more than the glass shields 
and plastic bullets. The riot as a whole was far from over. Soon the 
people would realize that the gangs still had the police and Special 
Forces at bay and that the Mandate had lost control of much of 
Capitol Plaza and the Island. Whenever the Mandate's control was 
threatened by a sizable opposing force, the people would find the 
courage to revolt on their own. They were gullible that way.

  I brushed the bench puddle away with my hand, but then 
thought better of it and remained standing.

  "Come on," I said. "There's a coffee shop like two blocks 
away."

  Zig pulled out a fresh pack of cigarettes and lit one up, 
taking a second to inhale deeply. He looked up at me. "Not if the 
police-line swung that way."

  "I'm sure it didn't. I used to meet Derring there sometimes 
when he and I were still lobbying the racing board. Nice place, you 
can get dinner there too."

  "I'm not really hungry."

  "Neither am I, but I want to get out of this rain and we 
can't go home of course."

  "Of course," he said, unhappily.

  I sighed and sat down next to him. The only times I every 
really thought I was a nice person at heart where when my friends 
were unhappy, and I saw that I was truly more concerned about 
them than myself. Maybe this was tied to knowing that no matter 
what happened, I would survive. I hoped that wasn't the only 
thing.

  Zig's place would be under the watchful eye of Das 
Uberdog, checking to see that their investment had been worth it. 
If the old woman got word that we had escaped from Rufius she 
might have her men try to pick us up again to be handed back. 
Besides, we were pretty much broke, and probably under police 
warrant. Technically Zig had been legally executed more than a 
week ago since all they had found of him was a pool of myrrh. The 
government didn't know he existed anymore. But they knew about 
me. I checked my jacket pockets for my wallet, opened it, and was 
disappointed. Maybe I could get the coffee put on a tab.

  We sat another minute and then I put my hand on Zig's 
shoulder. "Let's go. We have a lot to do before we can sleep 
tonight."

  He flicked the butt into the air, and it hissed when it landed 
in an oily puddle. Standing up, he pointed east, to where I could 
see the top of a stone building over the rooftops. "That's were we 
took you when White showed up. The new Mental Health building. 
Your cyc is stashed in a dumpster nearby. We should grab that 
first."

  I stared at it with a hand at my forehead. "Shit. You don't 
think it got incinerated, do you?"

  "Nah, nobody had time for that this weekend. What day is 
it anyway?"

  "The screen seems to think it's Tuesday," I said, pointing to 
the nearest streetlight where a three foot square screen displayed 
the date and time outside a bank. "Well we better get over there 
before we have to ride the bus. I guess the coffee shop can wait."

  Zig squinted, shrugged, and lit another cigarette. "Alright 
*Das*, lets go."

  As we started walking again, I looked over and said, "You 
know, you don't have to call me that."

  "I don't know. Maybe I don't like calling you a name 
White gave you anymore."

  "Yeah, I hear you." I thought for a second. "Christ, you 
can't help collecting them."

  "What, names? Like what?"

  "Actually a lot of odd ones. 'Das,' 'Gaines,' 
'Richter' -hell, friends even called me 'Halo' for a while, back 
when I had blond hair. We didn't know each other back then."

  "Halo. I'm trying to imagine it. How long ago was that?"

  My gaze shifted around. "Maybe sixty-five, seventy years."

  "Before I was born."

  We were silent for a second. Then Zig said "But Richter? I 
think I knew a Richter. Maybe I'll call you Rick."

  "That's what I went by back then. Rick was a good name."

  "Wonderful. And you're right, we have to get out of this 
rain. I think the thing's just up here."

  We broke into a trot, and splashed up a side street which 
brought us closer to the IMHR building. This was one area where 
the cops had made a stand against the screaming mass of people 
and lost. There were all sorts of crowd control barriers littering the 
pavement and patches of grass which passed for lawns around 
here. I saw many broken riot shields, and Zig actually tripped over 
a body lying half down a storm drain opening in the sidewalk. We 
stopped, and recognized the uniform as police issue. Zig checked 
the holster, but it was empty and so we moved on. Everything that 
hadn't been stripped by looters would be collected tomorrow by 
sanctioned laborers. The place was deserted right now. We 
circumvented spot-fires still burning around a trampled burger 
stand and Zig called me over after he spotted the dumpster.

  We looked around to make absolutely sure no one was 
watching, and then I opened the lid. I did not like what I saw. At 
the bottom, my motorcycle in compact form lay unmolested. But 
on top of it was another body, clearly civilian. The face and chest 
had been badly burned, and I saw the left arm twisted unnaturally 
against the steel side. Zig poked his head over the rim, saw what I 
was looking at, and pulled back quickly.

  "Shit, it's your cyc, you can get it out."

  I swallowed and replied, "Thanks a lot."

  Trying not to look at it, I reached down and got a hold of 
the cyc's titanium alloy shell. With a grunt and a bad word I pulled 
the machine out, and set it carefully on the ground. My key turned 
in its lock and pistons expanded into riding position. The 
electrometer showed that it still carried most of its charge so I kick 
started the motor. Zig climbed on in back of me as I gripped the 
handlebars. With a second thought, I kicked the dumpster hard, 
and the lid swung down with a bang. The whole unit hummed to 
life and dense lasers started flicking on inside. A vile smell wafted 
out but incineration was probably best for all concerned. Then I 
gunned my  engine. We drove out of the alley and into the rainy 
street, where I once more glanced up at the stars. Fused gas, huh? 

  Yes, I assured myself. Fused clouds of gas.






--------








  I must have looked like a floating rat, soaking, shuddering, 
and cursing under my breath as I pushed through the revolving 
door outside the caf� eloquently titled 'Castro's.' The whole place 
was somewhat South American in d�cor, it had tribal antiques on 
the walls, a few of which may even have been real. It was dimly 
lit, and decently full, which was just the kind of place one needed 
at this time of night. It had air dryers in the restroom, which is 
where I headed immediately, not even noticing the girl who slid 
into Zig's booth until I came back out. I pulled my long hair out of 
my face and sat down to await introductions. Zig was on top of it.

  "Karen, this is my boy Rick. Rick, Karen."

  As I sat down across from them both, she reached across 
the table and shook my hand lightly. I smiled my best and got a 
warm one in return. She was tall, taller than Zig and almost as tall 
as me with long died black hair and very pink lips. In the second I 
had to look at her without crossing the line into staring, I could tell 
immediately that she looked familiar. She was beautiful no doubt, 
but in a sexy, seductive way that was different from Alethea's 
more angelic grace. It looked like she had been drawn on a movie 
poster, her curves accented almost unnaturally. Every man knows 
the type, whether he chooses to like it or not. I felt sudden interest 
rise in my throat.

  Zig grinned at me. "Karen is an old friend of Alethea's 
from high school; we've partied. She never told me she worked 
here."

  Holy fuck.

  Karen glanced at me. In a light, clear voice she said, "Well 
I don't anymore. Ethan, my boss, is selling the shop and I'm out of 
a job. And that isn't fun at all."

  I leaned back in my seat. "No it isn't," I said.

  "What do you do?" She didn't recognize me. But then a lot 
of people don't, I wasn't going to start caring about it now.

  "I guess a little bit of everything. Right now I work down at 
the race track."

  "Oh, really? Wow, are you on a crew team?"

  "I'm more on the management side of things."

  The conversation continued from there. She really was a 
friend of Alie's, she told me about their high school and then 
parting when Alethea's parents started making her stay at home all 
the time while Karen had to get a job. I found her very appealing, 
very alive and interested in what she said. Not consumed with 
life's larger, abstract problems. It was a rare quality. At around one 
in the morning she finally stood up to leave and I realized I had 
forgotten all about why Zig and I had come. Tough to do with that 
much weighing on my mind. I think Zig realized that I wasn't 
going to tell her to leave any time soon, and casually mentioned 
how late it was. 

  "Screw--I mean Rick, you got a watch?"

  I shot him a look. "-No."

  "Oh shitty," Karen said politely. "I'm going to miss the last 
bus."

  "Oh, you need a ride?"

  "But there's only room on the cyc for two," Zig interrupted.

  "I know." I said back.

  "Well it was great talking to you!" Karen said. "But I have 
to finish up in the back. And don't worry about the bill, it's on the 
house. Let Ethan know on the way out. He's the tall one in the 
suit."

  I stood up to walk her out, but she put a hand on my 
shoulder. "Don't worry about it."

  "You sure you'll be fine? There was just a riot."

  "No, but thanks. " She waved to Zig and said, "I'll see you 
guys later okay?" And then she walked away. I didn't say anything 
for a moment. Zig looked at me.

  "What the hell was that?" he asked.

  I shrugged and took a sip of coffee. "One well-rounded girl 
if you ask me. I don't think future employment is going to be any 
problem. You know, I wonder who she-"

  "It aint about to be you. Have you forgotten about the little 
brunette who always seems to be absent when you need 
remembering? They're ex-best friends for god's sake. Don't tell 
me I have to warn you about the bad karma there."

  "But I take it you think she's single?"

  We both laughed. "Rick! Just because you have a new 
name doesn't mean you get to start over in life! Don't look at me 
like that. Alethea is waiting for you. After we take care of Chris, 
we go-"

  "We?"

  "You and I. And after Chris we're going back to 
the...whatever it's called."

  "The Apothecary."

  "Yeah, that shit hole."

  "I know, I know. I hear you. I'm just kidding. I'm just 
saying that through an entirely impartial perspective that the girl's 
been drinking her milk. And she probably isn't the daughter of a 
Rob Zombie nightmare either."

  Zig raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

  "It means you must admit, Alethea's family situation leaves 
a lot to be desired. If an uninformed viewer were to pick out the 
one person who's the biggest liability around here, he might point 
the finger at her. You know what I mean. An uninformed viewer, 
of course."

  "Oh yeah? What do you know about her that he wouldn't?"

  I grinned. "I think it was Raymond Chandler who described 
it best-"

  "Ah, shove it. But don't forget it either. I don't see why she 
goes out with you anyway."

  "Why?"

  "Because she's so sweet and innocent, and you're a 
criminal. The black pants, the hair, its all an act for her. You on the 
other hand-"

  "I'm no criminal!"

  He laughed. "Well isn't that some bullshit. You probably 
shoot someone on the way to the bathroom each morning. You're 
wanted by everybody. Ever since I gave you that gun, the cops 
have been working overtime."

  "That's not my fault."

  "You killed Alethea's father last night. Her father!"

  "But that's different. He's been trying to fix us both for 
weeks. She knows that. And the other jerks had it coming too; it 
was all in self defense. Purely reactionary."

  "Yeah, yeah."

  "And by the way, I think I remember it was you who killed 
her old man."

  "Tell it to Mills Lane. Shooting people isn't your only 
problem."

  "What's my other problem?" I asked.

  "Your frequent and deliberate misuse of harmful ganga. 
Chicks ain't into that."

  I rolled my eyes. "God, you love to dig me with that. My 
once in a blue moon habit. Must I remind you of the other criminal 
sitting at this table who's been known to smoke things that had to 
be rolled in newspapers?"

  "Shit," Zig said as if that was less than he deserved. "I, 
unlike you, am fulfilling my destiny. I'm building a name for 
myself in a misunderstood minority group. A pioneer, if you will. 
If you're still alive in fifty years, look my name up in the 
dictionary, because I'm going to be in there with all the greats: 
Cheech Marin, Willie Nelson, Snoop, Jewel,-"

  "Jewel?"

  "You know, that little yodeling white girl?"

  "I know who she is. And I don't think they catalogue you 
guys in the dictionary."

  "Sure they do! And if they don't, the bastards will. Soon. 
Type in 'social deviant' and you'll see a picture of me and Lewis 
Carroll blowing smoke rings together."

  "Lewis Carroll?"

  "Absolutely. That old English bastard was a fiend if I ever 
knew one."

  "Oh not this again."

  "Alice wasn't seeing all that shit because of her cataracts."

  "Yeah, yeah, the whole educated world's insane."

  "And the giant mushroom he sat on. I'm surprised they 
expose that stuff to innocent children, you know. Day dreaming is 
as dangerous as real life nowadays."

  "So anything we encounter that's fantasy has the element 
of promoting a kind of freedom from all rules and moralities?"

  "Yup. The city wanted a society with laws to keep out the 
parasites, and the Mandate showed up one day and gave it to them. 
But even they didn't realize that the new freedoms of life and 
thought they established break down all barriers, even the ones 
we've agreed upon."

  I looked at him. "So you're saying that to have any lasting 
order, all traces of whatever is outside of that order have to be 
eventually eliminated, even from our thoughts?"

  "Exactly. And we all know that's impossible. Because there 
are always going to be guys like you and I working in the opposite 
direction. And not just with the weed. The human brain produces 
many kinds of natural drugs on its own: seratonin, melatonin, 
endorphins, all that shit. And because its congenial, it's always 
going to be a bigger part of life than anything man creates himself. 
As long as a person has a biological preference for the pleasures of 
free thought, true order will never arise from the chaos around us."

  "Wow, I'm impressed, Zig."

  "Still, don't believe they won't think of a way of breaking 
even that barrier when the time comes. We both know what a big 
interest the Mandate has in the possibilities of the mind. Someday 
they'll figure out how to control us from the inside and then who 
knows, we'll all turn into potted plants or something."

  "Hell, we'll be the soil."

  "And is that still life? Without any thought?"

  "I suppose."

  "Maybe. It isn't something that interests me though. Or 
you." 

  "You got that right."

  "A brother can learn a lot from the books we 
read in elementary school." Zig pointed his finger at me. "I advise 
you to pay more attention."

  I sighed and looked up at the ceiling. I had drained my 
coffee cup, and wanted more, but I also didn't want to get up. And 
as if to illustrate his point, Zig pulled out a cigarette and bit the 
filter off. I quickly pointed the police use smoke detector overhead. 

  He looked insulted. 

  "By the way, we still have to decide what to do tonight," I 
said finally.

  "Well, how about Chris to start with. We don't have any 
guns."

  This sort of stopped me and I gave him a long look. "...So 
you think that's the way to handle him?"

  "No," Zig said slowly. "But it's not like we have a lot of 
choice, right? If he's doing any dealing with Rufius now, then he's 
just one more gang-boy who's gonna be there pointing a gun at 
you in the end. Chris is the type of guy who would shoot us both 
just to keep his side of a deal."

  "Are you really sure about that? I mean, if he wanted us out 
of the way he could have done us both a long time ago. Tells his 
men we're Taurs and that we need a fresh new outlook on life."

  "That just means the deal is recent. Rufius' crew didn't 
want you dead at the outset, so I'm sure he was there originally just 
to keep an eye on both of us. Make sure nothing unexpected 
happened and that you got your powers like they wanted. For 
whatever reason."

  I closed my mouth as another, less attractive waitress came 
by and refilled my coffee from a chrome pitcher. I said thank you, 
and she replied that Castro's was closing in fifteen minutes. I 
thanked her again and she left. 

  "I never really told you about the deal Chris and I had 
worked out years ago," Zig continued. "On my end all I had to do 
was come up with the police uniforms, Special Forces weapons, 
and few other rare items he said Das needed. In return I made eight 
large in cash and Chris promised to make the necessary phone calls 
that would keep the deal strictly between us."

  "That was probably more for his security than yours."

  "That's what I thought at the time. But it's not like I cared, 
protection is protection. And you were there when he came 
through after I got convicted. I had said I didn't want his help."

  "Which is when he suddenly turns on us both."

  "That he did. Without a second thought. You should have 
seen his face that night, looking up at me from the crowd. I can 
still picture it."

  "But why? What did he really get out of it?"

  "I don't know. Taking care of a mutually dangerous wild 
card?"

  "And this is all after an entire day of telling me how much 
he needed my help. It doesn't make sense."

  "That could have been set up to get you into the lab. But I 
wonder why Rufie needs him at all," Zig said. "It's not like he 
lacks the man power. And Chris doesn't have any special powers."

  I blew steam out of my nose and thought. "You think he 
might have been tricked like you were? I mean, you said Wells 
was good. Maybe he just made the mistake I didn't, and he's been 
duped. Chris ain't any smarter than you."

  Zig sighed. I motioned to a basket of short breadstick like 
things, and he took one on the end of his knife, examining the 
greasy biscuit. Zig flicked his wrist, and the pastry flew across the 
aisle and rebounded off a trash can. He sniffed the knife.

  "Yeah he is," he said. "He's probably a lot smarter than 
either one of us. Knows all that tactical and political nonsense. 
Wells couldn't have gotten him to agree on the day of the week. 
Nor the other two. I'm sure Chris was there when they found me; 
he would see them coming for him a long way off. If he's doing 
anything for that eight foot scab, he's in it up to his eyebrows." 

  Zig tossed the knife a second later, and it notched itself in 
the thrash can's ceramic lid. He saw me giving him the look, and 
said, "Relax. No one else is here."

  "But why would he do that? I've saved his life before! I 
can't believe he would start taking orders from some guy who isn't 
even behind his precious cause! And Rufius is way more of a wild 
card than I am!"

  "It's easier to believe than you'd think. Remember, you 
worked for Rufius and White too, from what I hear. Maybe all that 
'cause' crap was a front all along, and Chris really just wants to 
help Rufius? Rufius holds all the other face cards in the deck, why 
not this one? Seriously, I can't really see this either, but I'm just 
throwing out ideas here. The little oriental woman got iced, and 
she was working for Chris. I told you all about that, didn't I?" 

  "Yeah," I grunted.

  "So Chris is probably still after us to finish the deal. 
Whatever the big payoff is, from his perspective it's 
understandable."

  For some reason I suddenly remembered the deranged train 
of thought I had the last time I had seen Chris; it was with Alethea 
and the old woman as they carted me off to the merusion chamber. 
What was it I had been thinking again? Chris and Alethea... But 
before I even considered what that would mean, I pushed the 
thought from my mind. That just had to be wrong. There was no 
evidence at all.

  "And I say we don't wait around until he finds us," Zig 
went on.

  "But like you said, we don't have any guns. He does. Lots, 
I've seen them."

  Zig chuckled and leaned forward in the booth. "That's the 
beauty of it. Chris won't have any room to see us coming. He still 
thinks you can use your super powers. I think that as long as we 
don't go waving guns of our own, he won't be the first to start 
shooting. He has a lot of self control. You could even strut around 
all confident so he thinks you're on top of the situation. Like, 
'That's right, bitch! This whole god damn tea party was my idea 
first anyway!'"

  "Even though it will be him who could drop us in a 
second."

  "Right."

  "Wait. So you're saying we go find him, somewhere in the 
Plaza where all the fighting is still going on, and act like he better 
be shitting crackerjacks because we're back to call in debts? What 
about when he calls our bluff?"

  "I don't know. Then we run away and come back with 
something better. Wipe the smirk off his face guerilla style." Zig 
sat back in his seat and put his hands behind his head.

  I finished the last of my coffee and put the cup down. 

  Could we afford to be that confident? Chris wasn't even a guy to 
be toyed with back when we were best friends. It was strange. I 
could almost admit now that maybe I never bonded with him from 
the start, but he appealed to a certain side of me that I couldn't 
disavow. Like the incredibly mature friend who you want to 
impress, but not actually be around. Before, I would have trusted 
him with my life. Hell, maybe all this betrayal was ultimately a 
good thing for me. I hadn't had that much faith in his cause myself 
from the beginning. Still, that didn't put me anywhere.

  I knew I couldn't take him in an unarmed fight, and adding 
weapons would just tip the scales in his favor. I had to find his 
weakness. I had to find out if he and Rufius really wanted me dead 
or not. And if it was the old woman pulling the strings again, I 
swore that ball grabbing bitch would get hers. 

  "For lack of a better thought, I'm in. But just so we're both 
clear, this is one of those decisions that you know we'll regret 
sooner than we think."

  "I know that. You aren't gonna be the only one with his 
thumb up a croc's ass."

  "Zig, you are one out-of-control negro."

  He grinned again. "Heart of darkness, baby."








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beauty, knock and the doors will be opened


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