Dave Eldon takes a Job.

[kklasha]

Lucent grabbed the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, closing his eyes. He could feel a headache coming on, fierce and invasive. The laughing pain of it wandered across his forehead. It finally settled, thudding like books down stairs, as his father's favored operative sat across from him and recounted what had happened.

It was supposed to have been a simple job, sweep and clear followed be retrieval. His father had passed on, gone into the soul net to be recycled into another Kinguim life. Lucent looked upon that as a good thing; most of his forefather's had been sound of mind and stratagem but his father had been too brash, too reckless without the skill to support his strange whims. The plays he had made in the greatest of all games could have cost them the Kalnirajesan and it was better that the old man had moved on.

Likewise, Lucent had no troubles taking over the responsibilities that his father had left him. He had been groomed for this position since before he could talk and possessed one of the finest scientific minds the Kinguim had ever produced. At the Sengri Academy his ranking had never once slipped below Lord and he had spent most of his tenure there comfortably seated at the Virgo Seat of the Zodiac Club. He'd studied various lore, become proficient at theory that would have beggared the greatest minds of the Adama and begun recruiting operatives to ensure his future goals.

One of those operatives had become his confidante all throughout his time at the Academy, a prodigy of the Kandarian varierty. His name had been David Eldon and he had been studying psychomancy, a trypp that he claimed tapped into the madness that lay just beyond the frayed edges of sanity. Lucent wasn't sure whether to believe that or not; he had little use for trypping and didn't much understand or care for the tenants of it's practice. He could see the use of that power and he liked Dave well enough, trusted him enough to know that he'd make a good agent in the field.

A single problem existed in this. Dave Eldon kept his own consul and did whatever he wanted or whatever he thought was best. This made him a good confidante and a good leader, though it also made him an aggravating subordinate. Lucent saw no issue with this, liked the idea of putting Dave in charge of a field team right away. His father's old men - conservatives, the lot of them - would hear nothing of it and demanded that Dave pay his dues.

Their hazing rituals had backfired on them. Lucent had no time for such foolishness and neither did Dave; they were still cleaning the mess from whatever it was Dave had done. None of the men that had been in the showers at the time were capable of much more than babbling nonsense. Dave had finished his shower before leaving, had seemed surprised when Lucent had brought it up. Lucent had grit his teeth, dismissed the subject; those that played with the trypp, he had heard, were often taken by those forces they played with.

Despite the protestations of the others Lucent had sent Dave out under the watch of his father's most trusted commander, Bob Alright. Lucent had never liked the man; he seemed too enthralled within a sense of entitled complacency, though it was hard to argue with his results. Bob was plodding, slow and methodical, where Dave tended to walk into any given situation with no plan in his head other than the objective he was to win. Lucent had privately hoped that they might rub off on one another, but alas...!

“Alright,” Lucent said, opening his eyes and staring down at Bob. Bob was not a small man, but Lucent was actually large. “Start again from the beginning.”

“How many times do I have to go through this?” Bob was practically spitting. “I don't know where you found that psychopath but I don't want him anywhere near me. He's a disease, an infectious disease.”

“So you've said,” Lucent sighed. “Yet you yourself claim that he was what allowed you to get the objective and even made the sweep and clear a success.”

“He deviated from my plan,” Bob sniffed.

“A plan that did not include him.”

“How the hell am I supposed to plan for insanity?”

The helicopter had dropped them off five miles from the target. The men moved with their usual speed and efficiency, vanishing into the woods and following at a brisk enough pace. The interloper - that fucking trypper - had asked for directions, nodded and said he'd meet them there. Bob had seen the man on the practice field and knew that he wasn't especially fast or even in shape and had been happy to leave him behind. He hated dealing with those of his ilk; too many variables arose when the trypp was brought into play and it was all things he would rather not deal with.

A series of hand signals conveyed that they were getting close. John was up ahead, scouting the area. A simple security perimeter had been established by their enemies,  but John along was enough to deal with it and they all knew it. They made their hole, snuck in under radar and crept into the building proper, and that was when everything went to pot.

Somehow, they had been expected or detected or something. A pitched firefight broke out in the hallway they had entered, all of them pinned down behind desks and tables and things. They tried returning fire but someone had set up a damn minigun on the otherside of the hallway. Bob grit his teeth, swore as he shouted in an effort to be heard over the sounds of the hundreds of rounds of ammunition pummeling every bit of architecture around them.

His men were trained, professional. They returned fire in small bursts, but their efforts were mostly blind. Someone threw a grenade at them, mistimed it. John caught it, returned it back the way it had come. The damn minigun shot it out of the air, wracking the space between with shrapnel and thermite. Bob glanced about; already the enemy would have looped around, cutting off the way they had come in. The only chance they had was to wait things out and look for an opening.

“I can go take a look around, if you like.” The voice came from right beside him, the tone casual and unconcerned. Bob turned and looked into the calm brown eyes of Dave Eldon. He was just sitting there, knees up and hands dangling limply.

“How the hell did you get here?!”

“I walked.” Dave closed his eyes and leaned his head back, his expression going slack.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking a look around. Now shut up or you'll spoil my concentration and that would be... less good.” Bob wasn't sure what less good than their current situation entailed, was fairly certain he didn't want to find out. The firefight continued, Bob's team just managing to hold position. Dave started to snore. Bob was just about to poke him when the man opened his eyes. “There's only three of them over there. The big gun is nearly out of ammo. Do you mind if I handle this?”

“We have methods of dealing with this.”

“I imagine so, but the noise... just let me deal with this.” There was something in the way he said it that made Bob want to obey - he knew enough to recognize a trypp when one was used against him, though there was little enough he could do about it. Beads of sweat broke out on his head as he grit his teeth, nodding assent despite himself. He could only hope Dave would get himself killed.

“Yes, so, the minigun ran out of ammunition and they went to reload, laying cover fire with rifles,” Lucent said, looking down at the report that Bob had given him. “What happened then?”

“Dave stood up.”

“Didn't they try to shoot him?”

“Yes, of course they tried to shoot him,” Bob swallowed. “I hoped they would shoot him, in all honesty. That's a bad one you've got there. Your father would have never employed him.”

“My grandfather would have,” Lucent said, pointed. Bob swallowed again. “So, this team of highly trained security guards were reloading their minigun and laying supression fire and Dave stood up and did what?”

“He told them to miss.”

“Miss.”

The single word seemed to leak out of the solid world from some other place, resonating deep within all who heard it. Dave walked forward, his hand extended. No light flashed, no sigh of the trypp followed his movements as he walked in among the three men that had been using the minigun. He looked into their eyes and even from where he was Bob could feel the weight of a madman's will smothering whatever resistance those men might have offered. Dave ordered them to stand facing one another, to take out their guns and point them at one another's heads. They struggled - Bob could see them trying to disobey - but Dave whispered in their ears and started walking back towards where Bob and his team were waiting. When he'd gone five steps the men he'd left behind him all shot one another in the head.

“The minigun is reloaded,” Dave said, coming back and sitting beside Bob. “We can use it if you like.”

“John?”

“I've got it.”

“Anything else you want me to do?” Dave asked. He looked dreamy, his head bobbing a little.

“Not right now,” Bob said. “Just stay here. Watch our backs.”

“I'll be in John's line of fire if I stay here.”

“Then move out of it.”

“And then he vanished?”

“He was there and then he wasn't,” Bob muttered. “It was like he had never been there at all, but we weren't so lucky.”

“From what I've read, it sounds like you were very lucky,” Lucent said, smiling a little. Bob just glared, obviously not seeing the humor. Lucent supposed that he couldn't blame the man; in this case all his care had counted for nothing.

“John's alright?”

“The situation is holding,” Don said, glancing up and putting the headset away. “The targets left more than enough ammunition for the gun and John's a much quicker reload then they were. What's the plan for here?”

“Get in, grab the files, kill the scientists, get out,” Bob said. “Take point at the door. Mike will detonate the doorway, Tom and I will follow you and Mike in. Lay suppression. Recon suggests that there're desks to both sides of the door - computer terminals, that kind of thing. Cross over to take cover and we'll flush with grenades before we come in.” Don nodded, got into position as Mike finalized the c4 on the doors, moved back enough. They'd taken care of the security cameras awhile back, but Bob assumed they had back ups in the main lab. Halkett's boys were never entirely stupid or on the level.

Mike detonated the doors and he and Don moved forward through the smoke and that's when the screaming began. No shots werew fired and the chorus of screams was one of horror, not combat, and when Bob rushed in with Tom he saw why.

He didn't get a good look at things. He was grateful for that; he would avoid the catatonia that would claim the rest of his team. He stumbled away from the door, fell to his hands and knees and vomited violently, felt himself shaking with revulsion as small twisted details recounted themselves before his eyes - the impossible angles of the room, the organic mess of it, the sheer twisted madness that seemed to be leaking into that room as though it were something living.

The things that had happened to the scientists, their insides woven into the very breathing organics that now made up that room. The shaking entrails that led from human to wall, binding limbs with a savage necessity that Bob believed was keeping those poor pitiful wretches alive. Their eyes had been wide, their mouths forced open into rictus grins of agony, enough pain that they should have been dead if not for the unholy will that kept them all living.

And there, in the center of that atrocity, Dave Eldon sat. He had been typing on a computer, calm and serene, humming a little ditty slightly off key.

Bob finished wretched, felt a wave of naseua and dizziness overtake him but there was nothing left to expel. Swallowing the leftover bile, he forced himself up and grabbed his rifle. That goddamn trypper had to be put down for the good of the species, and fuck what Lucent thought. Preparing himself for the horrors of the room, he closed his eyes, swallowed once more and forced himself to spin into the chamber, already screaming with the horror of it.

“Would you mind being quieter?” Dave asked, not looking up from the computer terminal. “Loud noises are irritating.” The room was nothing more than a room. The scientists were all on the ground, shaking like discarded and withered autumn leaves, their insides still inside. His men were drooling, staring with glassy eyes at some horror best left forgotten.

“What did you do?” Bob demanded, voice a harsh whisper in a dry throat.

“Killing is so wasteful,” Dave muttered, staring at the screen. “I suppose we could just take the hard drive. Lucent can figure it out. Or his tech people can.” The psyhcomancer took a set of tools out from his green jacket and began taking apart the computer tower.

“What did you do?”

“Oh, right,” Dave said, looking up. “Killing is a waste of a resource; we might have questions for them later, right? So I put their minds somewhere not so good.”

“What about my men?” Bob screamed, holding up the gun. Dave glanced at him.

“Noise, remember?” Bob found himself lowering the weapon as Dave stripped off the tower cover, began pulling at wires. He sniffed. “Your men should have knocked.”

“Can you do anything for them?”

“Maybe later. I don't really like them, you know? I don't think they're worth the effort, but if you want me to I can bring them along.”

“What about the scientists?”

“Probably best to leave them. I can find them if we need to question them and this way Halkett and his ilk have to pay for their upkeep. I'm sure Lucent would approve.”

“I do approve,” Lucent said, paused. “He brought your men along, didn't he?”

“He ordered them along using his trypp,” Bob spat through clenched teeth. “They looked like goddamn marionettes. And he left the scientists behind.”

“That turned out to be a good thing though, didn't it?” Lucent asked. Bob just glared at him.

Charles Halkett was recognized as the most powerful trypper on the planet, a man of such power that he rarely bothered using the names of others. People were simply tools for whatever purpose they might serve or resources they controlled and little else. There were many that believed that he would be the one to lead all the Kinguim come the kalnirajisan, when the assembled Children of Kingu would try to enslave their Gods and thus conquer all that had ever been. If that attempt failed, it would not be on account of Charles - the man's willingness to do anything necessary to acquire what he wanted was well documented, his uncanny ruthlessness and intellect.

And outside the compound Charles fucking Halkett was waiting for them.

“I believe you have something that belongs to me,” Charles said. His voice was quiet, his appearance one of utter calm dignity. They said he could see into the hearts and souls of men, sublimate their wills with his own, erase them from the memories of all those that had known him. “Give it back to me and I'll let you and yours go on equal terms.”

“Equal terms?” Bob asked.

“You killed some of those that belong to me,” Charles said. He leaned on a cane, favoring his left leg. They said he had acquired the limp while fighting a God, a fight he had won by killing the Deity. “I demand one of yours for every one of mine.”

“Excuse me,” Dave said, stepping forward.

“Who are you?” Charles asked, looking at him. Bob glanced at Dave, realized that the latter was far too crazy to be frightened of the former.

“No one,” Dave answered, grinning. “I just want a word with the boss.”

“W-what is it?” managed Bob.

“I didn't kill anyone,” Dave whispered, conspiratorially. “Did any of yours?”

“John killed two security guards on the way in,” answered Bob, thinking. “Other than that, I think you took care of everyone else.”

“Ah, well,” Dave whispered. “Bully for John.

“Are you quite done?” Charles asked, refined, dignified. “I have other things to do today.”

“Sorry for taking up your time,” Dave answered. “Turns out we only killed two of yours.”

“Two?” Charles asked. His eyes went blank, the air around him shifted in awful ways. He frowned, lost in the trypp for a moment. “Remarkable. Two of yours, then, and what you took.” Dave nodded, walked over to John and kicked him forward. Before Bob or John could react Dave ordered Tom to grab John and drag him over to Charles.

“Murderer,” Dave muttered. “I hate people that waste resources.”

“What about Tom?”

“He's a turnip.”

Dave started to leave until Charles cleared his throat. Dave sighed, shrugged and pulled the hard drive from his coat, placed it on the ground. Charles wanted it brought to him but Dave replied that he wasn't that crazy, which got a small chuckle from Charles. Dave backed off as the old man went and claimed the hard drive, held it up and studied it for a moment before dismissing them.

“And yet,” Lucent said, staring at Bob, “the hard drive is right here.” They both looked at it, sitting there on the desk. Bob stared at the thing, careful to keep his distance from it.

“I can't explain it,” Bob muttered, and then he continued talking but Lucent couldn't hear the words being spoken. He asked the man to repeat himself, but the man kept on going, responding angrily to something that Lucent could not see.

“He's very dull, isn't he?” Dave asked. He was sitting in another chair, sipping at a cup of tea.

“How long have you been here?” Lucent asked, not bothering to look surprised. One grew used to things like this.

“A while,” Dave sighed. “Tea? It's a berry-green blend.”

“Thank you, yes.”

Dave got up from his chair and fixed the drink while Lucent sat there, staring at Bob. By the time Dave returned with the steaming cup Lucent had worked out that Bob was talking to an illusion, going through the story again.

“So, I was thinking that I'd get my own team,” Dave said, sitting down again. He'd taken off his jacket, hung it up on the chair behind him. “I've already selected five other people.” Lucent looked down, saw the file in front of him.

“You've never used your trypp on me, have you?”

“No,” Dave looked at him and smiled. “I like you.”