Sequel

It took four tries to get through AFF's hoops for putting up a story. Why? because when you press the back button it RESETS everything! GAH. I'm not exactly certain why it does that... but I missed the disclaimer the first time, second time I didn't enter the code right, third time I missed the categories thing. Bah.

Yes, I dun it. I hope you guys enjoy this one as much as you to Partners. Though... this isn't going to move for a while. I just kind of thought... you know. I'd put this here and let you chew it over for a bit. So there it is with a fairly nice ribbon on it.

This is NOT the possible Rahl-ta/religious one that I was talking about. This is the "sequel" to Partners. I was going to wait until closer when Rel gets involved but then I went... well there's a perfect opportunity to introduce him right there. And. Well. Let you all know what he'll be doing for the next... ehm... eight months? Or so.

Anywho.

Read, Review and Enjoy





“Nort? I ask you again…” Ell said, buying time, realising what was going on, “does the military have any interaction with the Sidhe?”

“I apologise, Ell, I can tell you, and the people, that the government has funded a small program in the hopes of communicating with the Sidhe.”

He blinked, saw the screen was still the same and blinked once more. The news clip cut off there and the television was such a shitty one that it was hard to be certain that what he had thought he had just heard, was what he actually heard. The government, doing something for Sidhe?

A shake of his head and something thumped down beside him. He sighed and looked at the old man who handed out books every week.

“I keep telling you, I read that already.”

“Read it again. Do I look like I care? You read everything in the library.”

“It is a small library.”

“Oh, don’t give me that bull about you being some big shot genius, you show off bastard. Most of the folk in here would give their balls to be able to read’ta pass the time and there you are, able and capable and not reading at all. Read it again.”

He sighed and took the beaten and worn book off of the small plastic table that had seen better days. The bible. Again. It was all the librarian had ever offered him.

Coming from a religious family meant that he had read the bible, cover to cover, including all the copyright details and the footnotes. His own copy was so worn that by the time he married he had had to replace it, the writing had all but disappeared from the pages. He knew the stories word for word, he knew the myths and legends and he didn’t like the library’s copy of Illuva’s bible.

It was one of those rare copies that had come out in the past fifty years that had tried to humanize the goddess, tried to make her seem … less powerful. The whole genius of Illuva as a goddess was that she could stand for anything at any time and could mean anything at any time. Crops failed, it was Illuva, crops prospered, it was Illuva.

Illuva was not the flawed, broken creature the library’s version of the bible seemed to claim her to be.

“Would you like me to read out loud?” he asked the old man, “to be beneficial to the others?”

“What are you a show off? Read to your own damned self you idiot. Repent your sins.”

“Sins. Right. Love that part. The guilty shall burn in the seventeenth hell as the underlings of Il so as to learn their lesson well before returning once more to the world. Yes. Yes. That is a good passage. Well describing the various tortures that await us all in the afterlife.”

“Don’t mock the gods.”

“I do not mock, I seek only to-”

“Boyo,” the guard entered the television room, dressed in the dark green, near black uniform which was not mandatory but was highly encouraged of all the guards.

None of the others looked up from their various activities. The guard could only mean one person -him. The youngest person by far in the room, he was hardly twenty. Highly religious, a failed marriage behind him, three degrees, a PHD and more credentials than anyone else he had ever met in person.

And he was still referred to as ‘boyo’ by the guards.

“I’m a PHD,” he muttered to himself as he stood, before he spoke so the guard could hear him, as he passed the man, “I realise you’re just calling me boyo to get a rise out of me. I’m still not going to fight you.”

“You will one day.”

“Maybe if you beat me. But I know my rights and the laws. Quite well.”

“Sure you do.”

“I helped write several of them,” he responded calmly, “I believe my visitor is waiting.”

“I never said you had a visitor.”

“I am expecting someone, it is visitor day.”

“Who the hell would come see you?” the guard spat.

“My lawyer. Would you kindly show me the way before I have you sued for intervening in legal matters as per the penal code, section A sub category 10 dash-”

“Shut the fuck up already, you ass,” the guard snapped, “Follow me.”

He followed the guard down the hall and through several locked doors to the visiting area. Three inch glass stood between him and his lawyer, small holes poked through the glass so that the two of them could speak but nothing could pass between them. He took the seat he was directed to take, a hard thing made of plastics that he had helped invent, and folded his hands in his lap as his lawyer looked over his file.

Folt was a good friend of his, they had known each other through university and Folt had only passed the bar because of his intervention. Folt was more than competent, of course, but the bar was more competitive than in other countries. Not just any lawyer could pass the bar by filling in the correct answers. A backing of a strong political supporter was needed and every politician out there had wanted Folt barred from taking the bar.

He almost laughed out loud at that thought but managed to keep a neutral look on his face.

Folt closed the file and shook his head, ran his fingers through that almost too long black hair, “I … don’t know what to tell you Rel. You don’t want to appeal yet you claim you’re innocent. Why not appeal then? I’d rather have you outside with a beer and you guilty than to have you inside when you’re innocent. I know you, I know you don’t lie, ever. But. Why not go for the appeal?”

“You know as well as I do, they will find me guilty again, if only because of who was involved. I saw the evidence. If I weren’t me, if I hadn’t lived those hours, I would think I was guilt.”

“But you aren’t.”

“I had the motivation, I had the means. My alibi is not the best.”

“You didn’t do it.”

“I didn’t? Then why does every headline I see say that the genius killed his wife and his lover? Oh, that’s right, they don’t. They say I killed her and HER lover.”

Folt looked uncomfortable and flipped through the file once more, “some of them do actually say that you killed your lover and then go on to explain what actually happened, what led to the divorce.”

“Yes, paint them as the bad guy and yet at the same time explain exactly why I have the motivation. Nice.”

“I did not okay the publishing of the articles in question. I know your stance on the subject.”

“I don’t mind, so much, the portraying me as a murderer, fine. They want a scapegoat, they’ve got one. But to portray me as an idiot and a murderer? Come on, an idiot would never have been able to do it. The locks, the key systems, the way they were murdered in such a ritualistic fashion? Getting around the apartment security. An idiot could not have done that. I couldn’t have even done that. Haven’t ever had an interest in electronics. Not that that matters to them.”

“The electronic books at your place were for…”

“You know damned well what they were for and what I was doing. I am not an idiot, I was just foolish.”

“Lustful,” Folt corrected, “it can make a man seem foolish or stupid but does not mean as much. Are you certain you don’t want to appeal? The sentence is being passed next week, I need you to appeal before that happens.”

“No. I don’t want to. Why are you pushing this?”

“The sentence,” Folt murmured, “I feel I should tell you that the prosecutor is trying for the harshest possible.”

“Murder is… banishment.”

“Execution.”

“What? Who the hell executes a guy who didn’t have a unanimous jury? Without an unanimous jury the sentence of execution can be stayed indefinitely. Life term. There is no way they will execute a man who was tried by his peers and found to be possibly guilty but not innocent enough to let go.”

“Alright. Fine then. Current news. Stocks are down, profit is up and Sou-lin Enterprises has declared bankruptcy.”

“Not surprising considering the rising trend in government and military owned companies refusing to buy anything with chips made out of nation in them.”

“Right.”

“How long ago did Nort announce that the government has a Sidhe program?” He asked, knowing that the prison censored the crap out of everything.

“Nearly a month. The day of your confinement.”

“Son of a bitch. I could have used that kind of publicity.”

“Right. No word or sight of Sidhe in any military base, outpost or building. However the military is contacting Sidhe, they are hiding it and hiding it well.” Folt paused and looked at him expectantly.

“I have no idea. Of course,” he murmured, “Tauh-lao Inc has recently put out a stealth shield that looks suspiciously like a prototype I was funding and possibly, just possibly, had slipped to the plate of a certain man in the military with the means of fixing it so it works properly.”

“Stealth?”

“Mm, kind of gives off an orange sheen when you shine one of those red laser pointers on it but unless you had perfect damned sight or one of those, you can’t see it. And. Cameras can’t detect them. Even if the laser pointer is directly on it. The light waves and such. It’s basically a hologram that can adapt to every day life. Put it over an empty base, fill the base with men and day in, day out for the first thirty days it records. After that it plays the thirty days in random order until it’s shut down or the program is altered.”

“And you don’t like electronics because…”

“Because of that very reason. They can be used for anything by nearly anyone. If I applied myself to learning electronics, what could stop me, really? Possibly nothing. If I had the knowledge to break into my ex-wife’s apartment, I might add, I’d know how to break out of here and alter my identity and make drones unable to detect me. Just. You know. A side note.”

“So appeal,” Folt growled.

“No.” he responded in the same tone, “pointless and useless, we would have to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that I can’t even work my VCR. Smartest man alive cannot work VCR.”

“Most people can’t work VCRs any more, they’re so out dated.”

“The new systems are idiot proof, idiot proof. I had them design it so that idiots, and me, could use them. I can’t get the fucking thing to work. Couldn’t. Couldn’t get the fucking thing to work. I’m lucky if when I try to change the channel it actually changes and doesn’t blow the lighting in the television or switch to porn that I can’t shut off because the power button is magically not working,” he gave a small shake of his head, “but we can’t prove it to anyone.”

“I’ve seen it happen.”

“But you’re my lawyer and my friend, you can’t cross examine yourself and as far as they are concerned you’d do whatever you could to keep me on as a client. I pay you good money to do nothing for politicians and such.”

“Right.”

“Of course. What they don’t know is that you’re willed everything in my estate since my parents and siblings are dead, my wife is a lying, cheating, manipulative bitch and my lover is the one she was lying, cheating and manipulating with… so… yeah.”

“I’m the sole inheritor, since when?”

“I had Maklov draw up the papers the day I was arrested. Didn’t really want it public knowledge.”

“Businesses and all?”

“Yes.”

“Screw it. You can die in here.”

“What?” was the only response he could get out when Folt stood up and walked away, “Folt? Folt, where the hell are you going? Folt!”

“Looks like your lawyer’s left you as well, boyo,” the guard growled.

“Not really,” Rel stood and sighed, running his hands through his light brown hair as he turned to the guard, “you really shouldn’t fuck a DeAniege’s sister and think that you’ll get away with murdering her and her parents, just doesn’t work.”

“What?” the guard looked obviously displeased with the fact that Rel was hardly phased by it all.

Green eyes darkened for just a moment as Rel considered which part of what he had said was being questioned.

“Oh. He’s not about to inherit my state and upon my death the carefully built case against him will open up wide and he’ll get exactly what he deserves. But not before I see him in hell.”



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