Now that Thanksgiving is over, and the semester is winding down, I don't have much to do these days. So, I decided to pick up this little piece of work again. Thank you in advance to everyone who reviews.
Disclaimer: Does anyone really read these? Didn't think so. But, you know the drill.
The temperature alone was enough for Speed to know that this was more than just a shack in the middle of nowhere. His skin crawled and his breathing became erratic, a response to the extreme cold he had now been pulled into. And he was surprised to find that the shack was not inhabited by the rats, insects, and serpents that he had been expecting; instead, it was pitch black, and while he could not see it, he could feel the slickness of the metal floor beneath his feet.
Rex still gripped his shirt, and once he had pulled the door closed behind the two of them, he grabbed a handful of Speed's hair. Speed struggled, but to no avail; Rex seemed to be possessed by something that made him inhumanly strong. After a while, it seemed like the more he fought, the stronger Rex became...and the more he appeared to enjoy himself. He began laughing beneath his breath, as if he knew that Speed was fighting a losing battle against something much larger than he believed.
"Just like old times, huh little brother? I remember we used to wrestle like this!" He said with a laugh, still gripping Speed's shirt and beginning to throw him around the room by the hair.
Every time he called Speed "little brother" was torture. Every time he said it, Speed remembered times in his childhood, and lucidly envisioned his older brother and he had last seen him. He could remember absolutely everything: Rex was always tall and strong, with dark black eyes and a mischievous, boy-like smile on his face. And the two of them had always wrestled, but it had just been a simple game between brothers. And every time, Speed would think he was losing, but then Rex would always eventually let him win. The games would always end with laughter, and a secret hug when no one else was looking.
Speed let out a small cry when Rex violently threw him into one of the nearby walls, which were also made out of metal. His eyes had adjusted to the light now, and he could just barely make out Rex's form, which loomed over him, then grabbed his hair and threw him into another one of the walls. The second time had been much harder, and Speed slumped to the ground as his head began to spin and his hair began to feel wet. He was nearly incoherent at that point and did not realize that the dampness on his skull was blood seeping from a small wound in his skull.
When Rex saw that Speed was not going to get up, he decided that he had enough of this, grabbed Speed, once again by the hair, and dragged him over to the fourth wall. He said something in a foreign language that Speed did not understand, and then a door that had been part of the wall a moment before now opened. Dragging Speed, he walked into the room on the opposite side, the door sliding shut behind them.
"Ow!"
"Sorry...I can't see very well in here"
"You know what, just stop. It's not going to make a difference anyway."
Trixie sighed and put down the piece of cloth she had been using to dress a cut over Sparky's right eye. She didn't want to admit it, but it wasn't the lack of light that was causing her hands to be unsteady. Both of them were exhausted, fearful, and felt helpless.
Neither one of them knew exactly what had happened in the past hour or so. Everything had been a blur; they arrived at the shack, and sure enough, Rex had been waiting for them, looking eerily casual. Then, before they could see what happened to Speed, the two of them fell through holes that appeared beneath their feet. They fell into what could only be described as an enormous metal room that was colder than a freezer, landing heavily on a hard, metal floor. They were then were immediately pushed over to a dark cell. Trixie wasn't treated too roughly by the shaded figures around them, but Sparky had been ridiculed, jeered at, and beaten as he walked. He was actually lucky that he only had a laceration over his eye. And now, they waited, with no idea where Speed was or what was happening to him.
"Are you okay? I mean, apart from that. Is anything broken or anything?" Trixie asked after a moment of silence.
"I'm fine...are you?" Sparky said, dabbing at his cut with a part of his T-shirt.
"Yes..." her voice trailed off. "No." She then said, rubbing her temples and closing her eyes. "I'm just in shock, that's all."
"We've had a busy little afternoon here, haven't we?" Sparky said, making a weak attempt at humor.
Trixie chuckled, barely smiling at all. "Leave it to you to make jokes at a time like this."
Sparky smiled, then stopping cleaning his cut and lowered his eyes to the ground. The two were silent for a while, but they were thinking the exact same thing.
"I didn't even remember what he looked like." Sparky said softly. "It's been so long."
"I know...but it's strange, I didn't think I remembered him at all, but once I saw him, I knew it was him. I recognized everything."
"Me too. Although I remembered him being a little skinnier."
"Yeah. Believe it or not, he reminds me a little bit of a younger Pops."
"If Pops were..." Sparky's voice trailed off. Trixie knew what he was going to say, but she really didn't want to hear it.
Once again, there was a prolonged period of silence.
"I wish I knew if Speed was alright." Trixie said with a quiet sigh.
"I wish I knew just what exactly was going on." Sparky responded. "After twelve years of nothing, no communication whatsoever, Rex just suddenly comes back, and appears to be working for a gang of incredibly not nice people."
"It doesn't make sense, Spark. It just doesn't...he saved Speed and I from these people three years ago...why would he suddenly switch sides? And why would he surface now? None of it makes any sense at all..."
"He looked different too. Granted, I didn't get that close to him, and yes, he is quite a bit older, but still...it's like he morphed into another person. His face, he was sneering, and it was so obvious that he knew exactly what was going to happen. I don't think I've ever seen anyone look that, well, brash."
"Rex was a little cocky, but you're right; he was nothing like he is now."
Trixie hugged her knees into her chest and shuddered against the cold. "I also wish that these people would turn up the thermostat just a little."
"I'd give you my jacket, but I seem to have forgotten it. I didn't think I would need it." Sparky said with a little smile.
Trixie smiled back at him. "What a gentleman. But thank you sir; I think I'll live."
"Is that what you think?" a third voice suddenly said. "I regret then, to inform you, that you are quite incorrect."
Trixie and Sparky slowly turned to face the supplier of this voice. Sparky had no idea who he was, but Trixie recognized him as if the events of three years past had taken place the day before. For this man she had seen close up: it was the blonde man who had worn the brown suit. Except now, he wore all black, just like Rex had been wearing. His face had not changed at all: he still had the same smug expression, with the same leer in his eyes that had made Trixie very uncomfortable every time he looked at her.
"Hello to the both of you. You," he said, pointing at Sparky, "I haven't met yet. But you," he said, now pointing to Trixie, "I could never forget."
Trixie started to say something, but Sparky abruptly stood up, cutting her off. "Who are you?" he demanded.
"Who are you?" the man responded with a chuckle. "Oh wait, you don't need to answer that. I already know everything about you. Simon Parker, affectionately called Sparky, was born on July 8, 1983, in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. He moved to California at age three, and eventually moved to Tokyo, Japan at age eight. His parents are Sharon and Michael Parker, who currently live in Osaka, Japan, with his two brothers, twins, who are both 15 right now and enrolled in high school in Japan. He attended the University of Tokyo briefly before dropping out to be a full time auto mechanic, and lives by himself in an apartment, apartment 509 to be exact, in the working class neighborhood of southwestern Tokyo, on Juno Street. I have more, would you like me to go on?"
Sparky was dumbfounded. This man had been honest when he said he knew everything about him, from where he had been born to his siblings and parents to his current address. It confounded him to think of how anyone would be able to gather that much information on him, but the thing that really worried him was why anyone would want that information. Especially considering that he had never even seen this man before.
While Sparky stood in silence, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly agape, Trixie stood up, her courage restored. "What do you want with us?" she spat out, her voice dripping with a venomous tone.
The man looked at her and smiled. "You are Beatrice Anne McCloughlan. You were born on January 11, 1984 in New York City, and lived there until age seven, at which time, you moved with your father to Japan so that he could go to a research hospital for treatment of his...unfortunate disease. He died about two years ago; your mother died giving birth to you. You remained in Japan to complete high school, graduating at the top of your class and boasting a very impressive grade point average, and later you attended university in Tokyo, where you again earned very high marks in all of your courses, particularly those dedicated to math and computer science."
"What do you want with us?" she repeated with a yell, still retaining the fiery look in her eyes. She refused to let him see the fear behind her eyes.
"And what have you done with the others?" Sparky yelled immediately after.
The man let out a loud laugh, as if this was all some kind of game to him. "Young people these days, always asking questions. You never offer solutions, you just demand them of others." He said.
"What the hell is going on?" Trixie growled.
"Well, if you really want to know that badly..." the man's voice trailed away. About ten assassins, still wearing their same uniforms from three years ago, stepped up, standing on both sides of him. Each had a very large machine gun in their arms.
"Come with me. It won't be long now." And with that, he turned, and the assassins rushed to surround Sparky and Trixie. The man began to walk, and Trixie and Sparky were pushed along, following him.
He led them along a very long metallic corridor. The only lighting in the entire hall was provided by track lighting nailed down to the floor. Once again, the temperature was unbearably cold, so cold that ice crystals were forming on all sides of the hall, which made the floor very slippery. At one point Sparky did slip, and would have fallen had Trixie not instantly grabbed onto his arm and pulled him back up to standing. The assassins laughed and ridiculed him, but Trixie's eyes were all he needed to see in order to remain strong. It was as if they could speak to him...don't give up, don't leave me here alone, we'll get through this together, just stay strong. Stay strong, and fight them.
At last the walk ended. The man entered a combination into a keypad that rested in the middle of the wall, and a hidden door then slid upwards, revealing an enormous warehouse, very much akin to the warehouse that Trixie remembered from before. The warehouse where she, along with Speed and nine or ten others, had been tied to poles, with Anarchy intending to have them all executed firing squad style. But Rex had saved them, and they had all managed to escape.
Several pairs of eyes were fixed on them from the moment the warehouse door was opened. There were assassins everywhere; some were talking amongst themselves, but most weren't saying anything, and everything went silent as Trixie and Sparky were brought into the room. They had been waiting for this moment for a very long time; the powers for which they worked had told them who they were after, but had failed to mention why. And they had obeyed, just as they had been training to do, in the hopes that this moment, the moment occurring right then and there, would eventually come.
"Sparky! Trixie!" a voice called out from across the room. The two were relieved, in a way, to see Spritle running across the room, for he was alright at the moment, but it was also disheartening. Everyone was completely under Anarchy's control.
Trixie bent down and embraced Spritle in a tight hug. She could feel him shaking with silent tears. She wanted to say something to comfort him, but couldn't think of anything. She wasn't exactly calm herself, either.
"Are you two alright?" Pops voice, which was cracking and sounded much softer than usual, said. Sparky immediately walked over to him and pulled him into a hug. As the two separated, Sparky sharply drew in a breath of air when he saw Pops' face, which was bruised, swollen, and bleeding in several places. In fact, Pops' entire body was injured, but he refused to let Sparky or Trixie see any of it.
"Yes, we're..." Sparky started to say. Then his voice faded away, and his eyes widened. Everyone followed his eyes over to the farthest wall, where two men stood, and another appeared to be lying on the ground, unconscious. Ironically, Trixie recognized him better when he was far away than when he was up close. Her mind immediately turned in to a whirlwind of memories: she remembered him standing far away from her, laughing and sneering at his triumph. The clearest thing that she recalled was the shape of his body. It had been more angular than anything she had ever seen; Anarchy was a relatively tall man, taller than Speed but not as tall as Pops or Racer X, and his body was thin and lanky. It looked even more odd when he stood next to Racer X...Rex...just as he had done three years prior. Rex was extremely tall and powerfully built, so Anarchy appeared as a dry, leafless tree would in the dead of winter. His eye patch was different, his hair was different, and the look on his face was also different (surprisingly), but the overall shape of him was unmistakable.
When he saw that everyone's gaze was fixed upon him, he linked his hands behind his back and began to walk towards them. The room was so silent that there were no sounds other than the clicking of his shoes upon the floor. He walked slowly, agonizingly slowly, yet held everyone's attention for the entire time, and didn't speak until he was only feet away from everyone. Rex didn't move; he remained standing over Speed's limp body, his face blank.
"Welcome. Welcome, all of you. Some of you I have seen before," he said, glancing at Trixie, "and some of you, I have only seen on a computer monitor. But rest assured, I know who all of you are."
"But do you know who I am?" he said, after a bit of a pause. He began to pace in a circle around them. "At this point, you most likely have at least heard of me. But, in the interest of formality, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Professor Anarchy...actually, truth be told that isn't my given birth name, but it is the name I adopted for myself years ago. It is my code name, the only name that I answer to now, and it will be the name that people remember me by."
"And it will be the name you will think of when you draw your last breaths..." the man in the brown suit said, his voice dripping with maliciousness.
"Silence." Anarchy snarled at him. This was actually the first time that any of them had heard him raise his voice. The other man took the hint immediately, and shrank back to hide among the thousands of assassins that stood in a giant circle around the room.
"I used to be one of the most powerful men in the world. I had a small army at my beck and call, I had spies and servants in nearly every country, and I had access to more information and more weapons than you could possibly imagine. So naturally, because of all of this, I assumed the worst thing that I could have: I assumed that I, and that my organization, was invincible."
"But it did not take long for that illusion to be destroyed. Nor did its destruction require quite the force that I thought such a razing would have required. I had naturally assumed that might would have to meet might, and that I could only be defeated by another army. However, history would determine that only one man would be clever, and cunning, enough to instigate the fall of my organization. That man is your son, your friend, and your brother."
"And there he stands." He motioned over to Rex, who immediately left Speed's side and walked over to all of them. His face was cold and distant, and completely devoid of any expression. He didn't even make eye contact with any of them; he simply stared straight ahead.
"Does this pain you, Mr. Racer? To see your son like this? I imagine this wasn't the circumstance under which you had hoped you would see him again."
Pops was not the kind of man who cried easily; in fact, he couldn't remember the last time anything or anyone had ever brought a lump into his throat, let alone tears into his eyes. Now, he lowered his eyes to the ground in an attempt to hide the emotion. For it had been so long since he had seen his eldest son...so long, in fact, that he had forgotten the intricacies of Rex's face. There had been times when, at home, he tried to picture Rex's face for no particular reason, but found that he could not get a clear image. Instead, what he got was a blur, a projection of chestnut hair and dark brown, almost black eyes, set in fair skin. But as for the minor curves, the line of his jaw, the exact texture of his hair, and all the lines that appeared when he smiled...those had all been lost. And now that Rex stood before him as a grown man, Pops could not contain himself.
"I see it does pain you. Greatly, I might add."
At this point, Sparky was the only one who was cohesive. He knew Anarchy only through stories, so he was not as afraid as the others, and he had never been close to Rex, so his appearance before the ground did not rattle him to quite the extent that it rattled Pops. Spritle was just so confused and fearful that he didn't know what to do. Sparky felt that this had all gone far enough.
"Tell us why you are doing all of this, Anarchy. Just tell us why we have been brought here." He said, making his voice sound as steady and confident as he could.
Anarchy looked over at him, and Sparky was surprised to see that his expression was not nearly as evil as he had pictured it would be. In fact, under different circumstances, Sparky would have just seen him as a typical older gentleman; thin and bony, yet regal. His face was more regal than vindictive; his body language more calm than threatening. Sparky reasoned that this must have been the reason why Trixie had been fooled into believing that this man wasn't Anarchy.
"You have a strong heart, Mr. Parker. Stronger than I ever gave you credit for. I can see your spirit in your eyes...well done. Well done."
Sparky was slightly taken aback, but he refused to allow himself to be fooled.
"Stop talking in riddles, whoever you are. Just give us some answers." He growled.
Anarchy smiled and laughed under his breath. "Alright, my dear boy...clearly you want to dispense with the pleasantries. This isn't how I would conduct things, but then again, I do come from a different generation. I'll humor you."
Anarchy opened his mouth to speak, but closed it and turned as he, and the others, heard a groaning noise behind them. It was Speed, who was clutching his head and trying to push himself up off of the floor. Trixie and Spritle both broke out of the trance they had previously been in and rushed over to his side. He looked at them with blurry eyes; he couldn't really see them, but could make out their general image. He stumbled once, and then with their help, got up onto his feet.
"Welcome back, Mr. Racer. I wouldn't touch your head very much tonight; you've got a nasty injury. Nothing that won't heal with time, though." Anarchy said.
"What have you done to him?" Trixie cried. "Why did you do this?"
"I didn't." Anarchy replied. "Rex did."
Long, yes. Boring, hopefully not. ;) I was going to put in more, but I did a check on the word count, and this chapter is already a bit too long.