A Gentleman's Game: Part 1 - "Never Ganna Find me."

[ShockArcl1te]

(The following takes place in the weeks Tremor has been gone. This plot is flexible and anyone can join in or link it to other plot lines that are currently taking place.)


“On a mission started by my own admission
I will leave you all behind
By direction I'll create my own protection
The real me you'll never find”
The Offspring – “Never Gonna Find Me”

Tremor woke up tied to a chair in a dark room. A single lamp blinded him from the table in front of him and as he winced around the glare he started to feel a familiar nausea that could only come from sedatives. His eyes must be dilated as well, making the light that much brighter and the room around him that much darker. There was no recollection of how or when he got here. Even Cobalt seemed only half-real in his mind. He tried to track down his memories of the previous day or week and found it unnervingly difficult. His efforts were interrupted by a woman’s voice from behind the light.
“Wanting to know how you got here Mr. Waltman?” Her voice seemed to echo slightly off the walls. Tremor thought he could make out the faint smell of fresh concrete. Was this a construction site? A parking garage maybe?
“If it were a parking garage then you would smell exhaust too.” The woman spoke again. Tremor seemed to glare at her past the light.
“That’s right. I can read your mind. I’ve had ample time to probe your secrets, but that isn’t what I’m here for.” Tremor thought he could make out the faint outline of a smile past the blinding light. He frowned and struggled against his bindings. They had him in some sort of plastic, zip-tie hand cuffs. His powers seemed dulled as well. The drugs no doubt.
“I can see you’re putting this together yourself. Your powers will return as soon as the sedative fully wears off. I know you want answers and I’m prepared to give them in time. First, I will just start by telling you what we’re offering and then if you don’t like what you hear, you’re free to go. All I ask is for five minutes.”

Tremor’s anger seemed slightly displaced by his ability to rationalize what was going on around him. He cracked his neck slightly and then smirked darkly at the woman’s shape behind the lamp, “I’ll save you some time. You want me to do something for you. It’s ether dangerous or will attract a lot of attention you’re not comfortable with. If it was a kidnapping, never mind the fact that I’m not a high profile target, then you wouldn’t be talking to me. Anything else and you would have ether taken it or killed me by now.”

The silhouette seemed to tilt her head at him thoughtfully, “Very good Mr. Waltman. You are correct in that we have a special job for you. But you don’t really care about the details of the job because I can see your answer is already no. There is a nagging question in the back of your mind however… it’s something you can’t quite imagine and it’s driving you mad because you truly want to know… " She paused a moment, “Go ahead… ask.”
Tremor disliked the fact that he was being toyed with almost as much as he hated this lady’s habit of calling him ‘Waltman.’ Still, he found himself wincing into the light and bitterly complied, “What’s in it for me?”

The mysterious figure seemed to look through him, “I know about the voice in your head. I know that while you’ve learned to ignore it, it has started to gain greater influence over you while you’re unconscious. You keep waking up in strange places with no memory of how you got there. Your nightmares have stopped, but so have the dreams too. You want to be free of it before it does something horrible.” She walked around the table to the side closest to him, her shoes making soft scraping noises on the smooth concrete floor. The light was still too bright to look at her dead on, but Tremor could make out her shoes and slacks as clearly business professional. She continued, “What if I told you we could make it go away? What if you could have a complete night’s sleep without having a nightmare about the world in flames and all of your new friends lying dead and broken in the rubble? You could have a chance at making your own way. Making sure they never find the real you. That’s what you’re really after isn’t it?”

Tremor seemed to reflect on his life in cobalt thus far. They saw him as unstable at best. The sad part was, they were right. He had kept his shadow at bay, but who knew when it would get the upper hand and finally take control? He glanced to the figure and seemed to just wait for her to speak again.
“You want to know how this is possible.” she responded, “All in good time Mr. Waltman. We first need to know you’re on board.”

Tremor was feeling more clear headed now, but it didn’t make his choice any easier. He couldn’t be sure they would let him go free if he said no and in any case, there was no point in trying to lie to a telepath. More than that, he knew that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance they were telling the truth and he could be rid of his shadow forever. He looked at her through the light and nodded slightly, “What do you need me to do?”

The woman seemed to give a signal and two other figures stepped from the shadows. Tremor felt himself hoisted like a child’s toy up off the chair and dragged away from the table. The woman’s figure stayed where she was, casually pulling out a phone. Tremor could only decipher the first few words of her conversation with persons unknown, “This is D1. He’s ready for delivery.” Tremor couldn’t make out the rest because someone had jabbed a rather large needle in his neck and the world was starting to swim again. He faintly sensed being dropped into some kind of coffin… no a crate, and the sound of heavy machinery being turned on around him. Someone put an oxygen mask on him which was hooked into a tank at his feet next to a briefcase. His eye lids were getting heavy. In seconds they had nailed on the lid and propped the crate upright. His drug addled mind pondered what they meant by ‘delivery’ as they began to pour the concrete through a hole in the top. “Thank God I’m not wearing my jacket.” He murmured as the mix enveloped him and he lost consciousness.