"Only one way, and that's my way...." --Method Man "Here I am", he said. He was looking toward what was sometimes called the Chicago Borealis, the light given off by the skyline of that city. It was about an hour before daybreak, and Most Holy was tired, dirty, and nauseous. What had once been his meticulously clean uniform looked now like the "uniform" of the adolescent scenesters who used to take part in the rapidly dying Chicago punk scene. If he had cared, M.A.U.L.'s CinC may have grinned at the somewhat disturbing homecoming, but instead he lit his last cigarette and continued on into the city. ----- "Barney Pal Rosenberg, reporting for luving duty, Sir." The former Chief Medical Officer of M.A.U.L. stood now in an office, bare walls and spartan accomodations belying the mindset of this Rouge Squadron commander. As if seeing the BP for the first time, he dropped his reading on the desk and addressed Rosenberg. "How many chambers in the human heart?" "One, Sir, for the luv of Lord Barney." "How long have you luved Barney?" "For ever and ever and ever, Sir, as long as I can remember", Rosenberg cheerfully replied. "Very good, Barney Pal. I was skeptical of this new spongification process, but I see the results are satisfactory. I have a mission for you, should you choose to accept it. If you don't Lord Barney will be very disappointed, but the choice-" "I'll take it, Sir!" "Good. M.A.U.L.'s CinC is after you, as planned. All indications imply that he wants to kill you. We want you to kill him." Rosenberg looked eager to please. "Are you prepared to give your life to the Glorious Service of Lord Barney?" "Yes, Sir!" "You will wear a device that will monitor your heart rate. When your heart stops, it will trigger an explosive you'll wear on your back. You will be destroyed, along, we hope, with Most Holy. At the moment, the self-righteous little bastard is in Chicago, for reasons unknown to us. You will go there, bait him, and have him kill you. Do you understand? "Yes, Sir. And thank you for the opportunity to serve!" ----- It was in a small cafe' off the Jarvis street El station that Most Holy was now resting from his journey. Old-time swing music was playing, and Dan, the proprietor of Dan's Coffee Club, was grumbling and moving between the few patrons. There was nothing odd about this, Dan was always in a bad mood, except perhaps later at night, when most of the customers had gone. It was then that Most Holy wanted to talk to him, that is if he could catch the man. At the moment, however, he rested. ----- How long can a human being assume a false persona, intentionally living a lie, without breaking under the strain? With noone to confide in, no outlet for his real self, even when alone maintaining that lie? CMO Rosenberg was starting to wonder, as he made his way to the Rouge Squadron Medical Building. ----- "I'm through, Dan. I'm going to kill this bastard and they'll give me life for it." Most Holy sat slumped in his chair, coffee in hand, and waited for an answer. "You're throwing away a promising career in the Jihad over one life? How many have you taken? You didn't get to your position bloodlessly, you hypocrit. What the hell is wrong with you?" Most Holy was silent, and looked almost asleep. His mind, however, reeled. This was unexpected. "Dan, do you have any idea what this bastard did?" "Do I look like I care? I run a coffee shop you fool, not a bunch of people running around in the woods shooting at each other." "Yeah? And what would you call this neighborhood? Or is that broken window part of the ambiance of this place?" "You come in here with your sorry self and expect me to sympathize with your little quest, well I don't. You have a serious problem back at your little organization, and I hardly see how you running off like this helps anything. A long time passed before Most Holy responded. When he did, his spoke quietly. "Regardless, I am going to kill him." With that, he paid and left. ----- He hadn't expected this new mission. So far the operation had been a dismal failure. He was supposed to find names of the agents Rouge Squadron had running against M.A.U.L. Now, however, he was being sent on a suicide run. When he was fitted with the heart monitor, he was sure to look stupefied and eager, Back in his commander's office, however, it took all his strength to maintain his persona. "You are ready?" "Yes, Sir," he replied. "You leave in an hour. Be ready. Any questions?" He decided to take a chance. "Sir, if I can't locate Most Holy- or if he can't locate me- then what do I do?" "I hadn't considered that option. It doesn't matter, really. I suppose if you can gain access to M.A.U.L.'s HQ, you could get yourself killed and do some dammage. Shoot for an armory or somesuch." "Should I seek to eliminate their command structure, Sir?" "No. Go for enlisted personnel." Now he was getting somewhere. "What if there are officers in the building, Sir?" The Rouge Squadron commander sighed. "Just avoid the officers, okay? Especially in the Administration building. Dismissed." "Yes, Sir," a more knowledgeable Rosenberg replied. ----- Most Holy was at a loss for what to do next. He had thought that his friend, Dan, would be willing to help him. He had miscalculated- or had he? Perhaps he wanted to be talked out of this. Regardless, he tried to stay awake, riding the El randomly. He awoke with a start. End of the line, apparently. He had fallen asleep after all, and the conductor was banging on the window for him to get out. He complied. This was the Howard El stop, and he knew of a 24 hour pancake house close by. He'd go there to figure out where to go next. As he left the station, he didn't notice a man about 25 yards behind him put down his newspaper and begin to follow him. Passing a bar, however, he heard a shout behind him and turned around. There was Rosenberg, about to get hit by any one of a group of drunk men. He drew his Glock, aimed, and shouted. "Rosenberg!" The group surrounding Rosenberg looked over and, seeing the weapon, fled. All except one. This man drew a .38 revolver and aimed at Most Holy's chest. Rosenberg said nothing. The man with the revolver took two steps to the left of the CMO so he could keep them both in his line of sight. "This man is mine. I have no quarrel with you," Most Holy said. "You got bigger problems'n that, man. You both mine." Rosenberg was watching the man with the .38. Most Holy was watching Rosenberg. The man was watching both of them, until Rosenberg's fist hit him in the throat. Most Holy fired, the man fired, but Rosenberg was already spinning toward the ground with the momentum of his strike. Most Holy pulled the trigger again but found he couldn't; Rosenberg kicked up and to his right, completing his fall and hitting the gunman in the groin. Doubling over, the man dropped his gun, and Rosenberg kicked up, hitting him in the forehead. He fell back and dropped to the ground, unconcious. Most Holy felt a wetness on his right arm. Looking down, he saw that he was bleeding. Having seen the wound, the pain set in and he dropped to his knees, trying to switch his gun to his left hand. Rosenberg was on him before he could manage, grabbed the gun, and hit Most Holy with the butt, knocking him out. ----- He awoke in M.A.U.L. ER, as CMO Rosenberg was changing the dressing to his arm. Seeing him, the CinC tried to hit him, but found he was restrained. Then he noticed Lt. Jeracho behind him. "Lieutenant, arrest this man!" "No, Sir. There's something you don't know here...." "That is a direct order!" "Kindly shut up, Sir, and listen. Rosenberg didn't plant the bomb, Sir, but we did manage to take advantage of it. We sent him out to RS, where he underwent interrogation and attempted spongification. The M.A.U.L. War College was running him as an agent, and he succeeded in his mission." "What? What mission?" "To find out who /did/ set that bomb. To make the story credible, we had to make them believe that you believed he had done it, freeing up the real bomber to act without reservation. That way, if he didn't succeed in his secondary mission- finding out the name of the agent- we might still catch him out of negligence. A good thing too, because CMO Rosenberg could only discern that the agent was an officer in the Administration building." "Who was it? I can't believe I'm hearing this." "It was Colonel Harris, Sir. He has been arrested and awaits trial under violations of the UCMJ, other charges pending after his sentencing." "And you intelligence bastards let me run around the country trying to kill our own agent?" "It was necessary. The War College regrets any personal harm to the CinC." "That's it? That's all you have to say?" "Would you believe us if I told you it wouldn't happen again?" "No, I wouldn't. But I'll be sure to make note of it the next time you come up for review." "As you wish, Sir. You are scheduled for a full debriefing concerning the recent victories of Lt. Marquardt's Heavy Infantry divisions, and the impending invasion of Rouge Squadron's last military compound. That will begin at 1530 hours, so you have a few minutes, Sir." "Gee. Thanks." Most Holy slowly got off the table, noticing that CMO Rosenberg had disappeared. "Bring Rosenberg to my office at 1700 hours. I have an apology to make. And get me some coffee, dammit, I've been lying here long enough." "Right away, Sir." -----