Payment in Blood

Chapter Three: Lucky Number Nine

A dark, moonless night sky loomed overhead as Edward Grinberg followed the secret path through the woods, a path that he had taken before many years ago. He needed no map, despite the near total darkness. He knew the route by heart and, besides, a map could be potential evidence if it fell into the hands of the authorities. The path led to one of the secret meeting places where Takeo Sekaro and his students would gather for training, planning, and various other activities. His old master was now long gone, but Takeo's former students kept his teachings alive, meeting in secret to carry out the old fox's legacy.

He came to a clearing in the forest, slightly less dim than the path, although clouds obscured many of the stars. A wooden block lay in the middle of the clearing, stained dark brown with ancient blood stains. It was just as he remembered it from over twenty years ago, except last time the blood was fresh, red, and running from Marjorie Krug as he raped her with Takeo Sekaro watching. She was also dead, Takeo having cut off her head with his sword after they were finished torturing her. Of course, the business was still unfinished—she had hidden her son that had been conceived by him, and a true follower of Takeo's teachings would never let such a person live. He would hunt down and destroy the child, who would by now be a young man, soon enough.

His contact was standing in the middle of the clearing, clad in black. Nack Cunningham had once been of Takeo's top assassins, a powerful telepath and an excellent shot. Now he led an organized crime ring that was the largest on Mobius. “Hello, Edward,” said Nack. “It's been a long time.”

“Yes,” said Edward. “A very long time. The master is dead, but his memory remains.”

“Well spoken, my old friend. Takeo Sekaro will never truly die as long as his spirit lives on in his followers. But enough of that. We have business to discuss.”

“What kind of business?”

“My organization needs someone who can carry out those special kinds of hits ordinary people just can't manage. Rouge LeClerc is a dangerous woman, but she's no telepath, and I have some enemies who are somewhat...well-guarded. And besides, you need resources to finish some affairs of your own, right?”

Edward grinned. Nack's gang had people all over the Mobian Federation and Earth Republic. With those resources, tracking down and killing his bastard son would be easy. “So how much will I be paid?” he said, rubbing his hands together.

“2,000 credits per week plus a generous commission for each hit you carry out.”

“Hmmm, sounds like a deal.”

“Excellent.” Nack took a drag from his cigarette. “Want to shake on it?”

“Why not?” Edward shook Nack's hand, sealing the arrangement.

--

Simulated bullets, actually low-powered infrared lasers, streaked overhead as Adrian crawled through the massive battlefield simulation obstacle course, flashes of light from strobes (simulating gunfire) lighting up the otherwise dark night. His heart pounded in his chest, both from exertion and from nervousness and fear. The instructors loved to put in surprise “ambushes” and other things to frighten cadets, and the anticipation was almost as bad as the scares themselves.

His assignment was to reach a specified area in the course, then drag a dummy back through the course to the waiting medical team, all while avoiding “enemy fire”. With his rather limited sense of direction, it had taken him several tries to learn the route for this scenario. He grabbed the dummy by the arms and slung it over his shoulders, staying low to the ground. The dummy was weighted like an actual Mobian, which was really not very difficult to carry even for someone like himself who was not in excellent shape, although later scenarios would use a human-size dummy, which would be far more of a burden.

He did his best to stifle his heavy breathing. Making too much noise could attract attention. He carefully followed the route he had memorized, down to every turn and kink. It was a mistake.

Without warning, one of the instructors jumped out into the path, hitting Adrian square in the chest with the butt of his rifle. The young man collapsed to the ground, crying out in shock and pain. “Dumbass!” the instructor shouted. “You take the same fucking route every fucking time. Do you fucking want to get yourself killed? You might as well fucking beg for it like a cheap whore!”

Adrian was too terrified to speak, and lay curled up on the ground, trembling.

“Get up! Get your fucking ass up!” The instructor kicked Adrian in the stomach repeatedly until the hedgehog stood up. Adrian was now too bewildered and frightened to even make out what the instructor was screaming at him. His mind races and his eyes flicked around left, right, up, everywhere but at the instructor. Panic gripped him, until he fell to his knees and screamed as he lost control. Suddenly everything was silent. The instructor lay on the ground, apparently unconscious. There was no sign of physical injury. Adrian could only stare at him, not knowing what had happened/

Behind him, he could hear footsteps and another instructor yelling, “What the fuck?”

--

Adrian lay on the hard cot in the cramped room he had been put in in the MGBA testing facility. The incident in the training course had turned out to be a telepathic outburst brought out by extreme stress. But a grade two would not be able to knock someone out instantly, so the MGBA had taken him for further testing. They had removed his clothes, telling him that he didn't need them. He had been tested and questioned for hours, and put under a battery of physical and telepathic examinations. The whole process had been exhausting, frightening, and violating, and now he could only lie there waiting for his results. At times they had subjected him to extreme stress to force him into an outburst.

A blue vixen clad in the now familiar black MGBA uniform walked in. “Hello, Adrian,” said the woman. “I've come to give you your results.”

Adrian pulled the blanket tighter around him to hide his nakedness. Fizetta, as her nametag read, was intimidating through her appearance alone. She was much taller than he was, and had an athletic build and keen, piercing green eyes. He might have thought her almost beautiful if she weren't about to tell him whether or not he was about to become effectively government property.

“Your results place you at around grade six. A rating of grade seven is required before the government can forcibly take custody of a telepath. However, you will be monitored for changes to your telepathic abilities and a government telepath will be assigned to help you channel your powers in a constructive way. When he shows up, you are expected to obey every command he gives you. You are not off the hook, and as the governing body for all Mobian telepaths, we still hold the right to put you into government service at any time. Telepaths are dangerous beings, and must be regulated. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Adrian muttered. Aren't I supposed to have rights? he thought. Isn't this a free republic?

“The constitution makes special exemptions for telepaths,” Fizetta said, reading his mind. “You are not entitled to any rights at all, per se. Your assigned mentor should meet with you tomorrow. Put your clothes on and go out, and people will be waiting to take you back to your dormitory at the college. Goodbye.

Adrian said nothing, just walking away, not quite comprehending how this Fizetta person could talk about her own kind living in virtual slavery so casually. He was still free only because the government decided to let him be free. It was a sobering thought.

--

“Where have you been?” said Bianca as Adrian came in. “It's almost midnight! I've been worried sick about you.”

Adrian walked over to a chair and practically fell into it. “I inherited a little bit of my father's telepathy. Not a lot, and I can't really control it, but it's there. This morning during training I freaked out and somehow knocked an instructor out telepathically. Then the MGBA showed up and dragged me away to do tests on me. That's where I was all day.”

“You're a telepath also? Why didn't you tell me?”

“Because a lot of people don't like them, even weak ones like me who can't really do anything.” Adrian sighed. “They've decided to let me go, but they've appointed some government telepath to give me training and basically keep an eye on me, and he's supposedly going to meet me tomorrow. As if I didn't have enough to worry about.”

“What happened to you while you were there? You look like a zombie.”

“I'm too tired to talk anymore, can we discuss this tomorrow.”

“Fine. You want me to get you a sleeping pill?”

“I don't think I need one tonight.” Adrian shambled over to the dresser, feeling completely worn out. He dreaded the next day, but what could he do? Kill himself?

--

“Hey, kid, I have to talk to you.”

“Not now, I have to go to class.” Adrian pushed past a cat who was heckling him. There were only five minutes until the next class, and he didn't want to be penalized for showing up late again. Despite Adrian's attempts at evading him, the cat followed. /Why don't you look at the nice shiny badge, kid?/ said the man who was following him, only this time the words went right into his mind, soundlessly. Adrian froze in shock and turned around. The man was holding up an MGBA badge.

Adrian felt an uneasiness take hold of him as he turned to follow the man. What did they have in store for him now? The man led him to a door leading to the dean of students's office, but Adrian could see the silhouette of the person inside and the office's current occupant was definitely not the dean of students. Instead, there was a fox inside, though thankfully not the woman who had grilled him yesterday. “Your mentor is waiting for you,” said the cat. “Go on.”

Gulping, Adrian opened the door and saw a blue fox, perhaps related to that woman, leaning against the wall, although he was dressed in an expensive-looking suit instead of the ominous black MGBA uniform. Then he noticed the tails. His new mentor had several tails intertwined in a bunch.

/Like my tails?/ the man said telepathically. He fanned his tails out like a peacock. /Count them./

“Nine tails?”

“Last I checked I did in fact have nine. Hello, Adrian. I've been assigned by the government to mentor you in controlling and harnessing your telepathic abilities. I also am a doctor, so I could give you academic tutoring as well. My name is Sammy McCaffrey, and no, I'm not related to Fizetta Inverno, although I have met her. She can be a bit...abrasive sometimes.

“I noticed.”

Sammy smiled and patted Adrian on the back. “You'll find that I'm a more agreeable person than she is. And don't worry about being late for class, I've already spoken with the professor.”

“Will you please stop going inside my head all the time? It makes me nervous.”

“Oh, sorry. You do get used to it eventually.”

“How did you end up with nine tails?”

“I was born with them. I come from a very special gene line, derived from Takeo Sekaro. He had only one tail, but my father had five, and I of course have nine. God only knows how many my children will have. I'm also rated at grade 39.”

Adrian's eyes went wide. A grade 39 telepath would be extremely powerful and rare; Takeo Sekaro himself, the most powerful telepath ever known to exist, was grade 43. Sammy's powers were almost beyond imagining, and it shocked him that such a person would ever have anything to do with a mere grade 6 like Adrian. “So why were you picked to be my mentor? A grade 39, jeez, you should be running the whole organization.”

“I have this role because I chose it myself. I've actually heard about you before; let's just say I know some people who know some people who knew you at one point or another; and I liked what I heard about you. So your name comes up on the list, and I just feel in the mood to give mentoring a shot and I apply for the position. My colleagues thought I was crazy.”

“I can see why,” Adrian muttered.

“Well, I think the dean of students will want his office back. Want to go for a ride?”

“Sure, why not?” Unlike the other government telepaths Adrian has met, this Sammy person seemed quite friendly. He wasn't quite sure whether Sammy's charisma was natural or some telepathic manipulation too subtle for him to pick up, but he just liked Sammy for some reason. He followed Sammy out of the office and saw the dean of students walking down the hallway looking quite upset, the old, fat badger's puffy face contorted in an expression of rage as he glared at Sammy. “Did you do something to make him mad?” said Adrian.

“I made myself invisible, followed him into his office, and picked his desk up. You should have seen the look on his face.”

Adrian chuckled. “You know, I thought you'd be a lot older than me, but you don't look like it.”

“I'm twenty-five, but I haven't lived such a sheltered life as you have. Besides, would you rather have me or some old fart?”

“I see your point.”

When Adrian first laid eyes on Sammy's car, he was stunned. It was a gleaming sports car whose every line spoke of power, speed, and money. “Good lord,” he muttered.

“Oh, my car? It's just a rental.” Sammy grinned as he pressed a button on his key fob to open the car's doors, which swung upwards instead of outwards like those of a normal car.

Adrian just stood there, speechless as he stared at the car.

“Oh, yes, I have a lot of money,” said Sammy. “Be careful not to bang your head against the roof when you get in.”

Adrian had to practically crawl into the car. The seat was firm with huge side bolsters, as if he were sitting inside an egg broken in half. The car rumbled to life as Sammy inserted the key, the engine roaring right behind the seats.

“I have some investments,” said Sammy. “Telepaths are of course naturally good at investing. But the inheritance from my family helps as well.”

“And the government lets you have all this money?”

“Just because I work for the MGBA doesn't mean I can't be rich,” said Sammy. “Are you feeling hungry?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I was thinking of taking you to a restaurant. I bet you haven't eaten decent food in a long time. Actually, you're so skinny that I wonder when was the last time you ate at all.”

“Oh come on, I'm not that thin.”

“Yes you are. You look like one of those starving Africans from the charity commercials. You are so underweight that you face serious potential health consequences.”

Oh lord, thought Adrian. He's going to lecture me just like Dr. Draftwood did a few months ago.

Apparently Sammy was nosing around in his thoughts again, because he immediately said, “Wait, you met Bookshire Draftwood?”

“Yes, I was a crewman on a freighter shortly before the war between Earth and Mobius started. A bunch of Earth fighters ambushed our freighter and we high-tailed it to a Mobian military installation who sent their own fighters to save us. The crew, including myself, were brought in and I was treated by Dr. Draftwood for microgravity degeneration.” Microgravity degeneration was the deterioration of bones and muscles that took place during prolonged stays on a starship without artificial gravity. Adrian had been so weak when he first left the freighter that he was not able to walk for over a week.”

“Bookshire Draftwood was my boss when I did my residency at Gorge City General Hospital, and a very close personal friend of mine. I first met him when I was brought to the hospital for burns after two friends of mine set my shirt on fire. At the time I was in an MGBA youth program in the field of medicine, so Bookshire took an interest in me. He encouraged me to become a doctor, and I also became friends with his adopted son Dexter, who was going on the same career path, Unfortunately, when my residency was up, the MGBA assigned me to work in a special telepath hospital operated by them, but I still keep in touch with Bookshire.”

“It's not fair,” said Adrian. “The MGBA treats us like animals.”

“A lot of things aren't fair, Adrian. Think about what would happen if no one was around to regulate to telepaths. I assume you know all about Takeo Sekaro, considering his role in how you came to be.”

“Yes.”

“Takeo is an example of what can happen when a malicious telepath runs rampant. Imagine thousands of Takeo Sekaros running around. Telepaths were originally created as weapons of war, Adrian. We're dangerous by our very nature. Sometimes you just have to deal with life as it is.” Sammy brought the car into the parking lot of a restaurant called Milton's. “Here we are,” the nine-tailed fox said as he brought the car to a halt.

Adrian pulled out his wallet to check how much money he had. “Oh, don't worry, I'm going to pay for all of it,” said Sammy. “You couldn't afford it anyway.”

“Oh yeah, rub it in, moneybags.”

Sammy laughed. “Don't be so sensitive, kid. It's like you want your feelings to be hurt.” He put an arm around Adrian and scratched the young hedgehog lightly behind the ears.

Adrian sighed. “I'm sorry. I'm just feeling tense today because of what happened to me yesterday.”

“It's all right. You've been through a lot recently. Come on, let's get seated.”

Adrian followed Sammy over to the counter, feeling uneasy but at the same time having a strange fondness for this nine-tailed telepath fox. At least on the surface, Sammy seemed kind and understanding like no other telepath he had met. Had he found another friend?