Bab 902: Ch 902 - My Friend Robespierre
Back in his lair, Riley watched as the cyborg Robespierre applied pressure to Ron's sternum.
Ron escaped from Riley's lair and delivered information to Alex. Riley had to make him pay. He was going to use Ron to send a message to anyone who wanted to disobey him.
The traitor was strapped to a table with tight leather buckles and steel manacles. Robespierre, Riley's favourite torture device, looked on with hollow mechanical eyes as he pressed his hand harder against Ron's bare chest.
"Harder." Riley ordered.
Ron's face was turning purple from exertion. Sweat poured off his face and pooled around his head. The damn traitor wouldn't scream, and it was beginning to bug Riley.
When Ron's eyes rolled into the back of his head, a clear signal he was about to faint, Riley ordered Robespierre to stop. Robespierre stopped applying pressure and removed his hand from Ron, then retreated a few paces, awaiting his next command.
Riley stepped up to the table and loomed over the traitor. Ron's eyes looked up and around, unfocused, as he tried to fix a glare on Riley. Riley smirked.
"You were careful," he said in a smooth voice. "We almost didn't catch you."
Ron said nothing. A thin stream of blood trickled out of his nose and over his lips.
"Very well," Riley said, shrugging. "Your silence only incriminates you further." He looked up at Robespierre. "Stand by."
"Standing by," said Robespierre in his robotic voice. Riley's smirk deepened. The French accent had been a sick little joke on his part. He had wanted a new torture toy, and who better than a cyborg replica of the man responsible for the Reign of Terror? So many had died as a result of the real Robespierre.
Riley turned back to Ron.
"I'll ask again," he said, more than a hint of condescension in his voice. "Where is the thumb drive?"
Ron spat at Riley. Riley calmly pulled a white handkerchief out of his lapel pocket and wiped his cheek. The handkerchief came away stained with red spots.
"That's not the answer I was hoping for," he said, disappointed. He tossed the handkerchief to one side.
A small bell tinkled as Budge the cat woke up from his nape. He was sleeping in his fluffy blue bed when the handkerchief had landed on top of him. He stood up, stretched, then shook off the handkerchief. The little bell on his collar rang incessantly as he shook. When he stopped, he licked his lips and approached the handkerchief, which had landed over the edge of his bed. After giving it a cursory sniff, he looked up at Riley and meowed softly.
"Dinner isn't for another few hours," Riley told the cat in a cutesy voice. "Daddy is working. A really mean man stole a lot of information from him, and he's working hard to get it back. Yes he is, yes he is!"
Budge meowed again and purred as he kneaded the bed, then lay down to resume his nap. Riley watched the sleek brown cat for a moment, then returned to Ron.
"Did you know," he said, "that cats will eat human flesh? They don't need to be hungry enough. We could just chop up a hard, a kidney, or some liver, mix it with a little blood or gravy, and the cat will eat it. They're obligate carnivores, don't you know? Meat is meat to them, and they don't care where they get it."
Ron narrowed his eyes at Riley. The traitor was breathing heavily, sounding more and more wheezy with every passing breath. He coughed, and a little blood spattered across his lips. His sternum was beginning to turn purple and yellow from bruising. Riley suspected that there might be a little internal bleeding going on.
"Still not talking?" Riley asked, walking around to the other side of the table. "No surprise, really. You never were the talkative type. At least, that's what Dr McManace told me."
Ron's eyes widened.
"Ah," Riley said, feigning surprise. "Yes, Dr. McManace. Your old teacher. Or was he your mentor? No, were you his assistant? It doesn't matter. Dr. McManace told me that you were in his lab the day the thumb drive vanished."
Ron kept his steely glare on Riley. His jaw flexed as he gritted his teeth.
"We know it was you," Riley repeated, leaning down so close that they were barely an inch apart. "We know you transferred years' worth of work onto a thumb drive. The question is why? And where is the thumb drive? Who did you give it to?"
Ron did not answer. No answer was needed.
Riley already knew where the thumb drive was. It was deep in the Baltimore woods, somewhere remote. And he knew who had it. An old nemesis, somebody he hoped to bring down a few pegs. No doubt Alex Ambrose and his minions would have been able to surpass the viruses that had gone with the data and find what was stored on it. Riley's plans hung in the balance, and he needed to find a way to swing the odds back in his favor.
All he needed was a confession.
"Maybe we should make this personal." Riley mused. He looked over Ron's battered and bruised body, hoping to find a tattoo that read "mother", or the birth date of a child. For a traitor, Ron was smart. There were plenty of scars and bruises, most of which had been inflicted by Robespierre. He had no tattoos of any description, which made making it personal all the more challenging.
But Riley liked a challenge.
"Who are you working for?" he asked.
"I work for myself," Ron spat, the muscles in his neck straining.
Riley pulled back a few inches, raising an eyebrow. "So you can speak?"
"You're going to kill me anyway," Ron said, glancing in the direction of Robespierre. "I may as well go out telling you you're wrong."
Riley laughed. "For a traitor, you sure are clever."
"For an evil genius," Ron said, "you sure are blind."
Riley stopped laughing and stared blankly at him. "Choose your next words wisely, traitor. As you correctly assume, I hold your life in my hands." He stepped to the side, offering a full view of the cyborg Robespierre. "More correctly, Robespierre holds your life in his hands."
"All this tech," Ron said, "all your money. All your resources. And you still think ending the world is the way to save it. What the hell kind of sick, twisted logic is that?"
Riley paced around to the head of the table and looked down at Ron.
"My logic," he said, returning to his silky smooth voice, "is not for others to deliberate. I have my reasons for pursuing my plans, and you have your for defying me. It is not my reasoning which is up for debate right now. It's yours."
He looked over at Robespierre. "Break his right arm."
Riley walked over to Budge, who was still napping. Robespierre glided on his cyborg feet, and gripped Ron's arm in two firm hands. As Riley knelt down to scratch Budge behind the ear, Ron began to wail in agony. The whirring of cogs rang throughout Riley's lair as Robespierre applied increasing amounts of pressure onto Ron's arm. It took more than strength to break somebody's arm. It also took force.
[SFX: bones snapping]
Ron's shrill cry echoed in the air, and down the hallway. A pair of security guards holing automatic rifles looked at each other nervously. Although Riley had soundproofed most of his lair, there were certain sounds that he wanted everybody to be able to hear.
Budge purred beneath Riley's hand as Robespierre let go of Ron's arm, and began smashing it in places, cracking the bone further. Riley looked back over his shoulder and grinned.
"That's enough," he ordered. "Stand by."
Robespierre paused, his fist hovering inches above Ron's pulverized wrist. He turned his robotic head to look at Riley.
"Standing by," he said, then moved back to his position against the wall.
Riley left Budge alone and walked up to the table.
Ron stared blankly at the ceiling. Tears streamed down the sides of his head as his eyes darted back and forth, trying to find something to lock onto. His right arm was a pulpy mess of blood, torn flesh, and bone. The coppery scent of blood was rich in the air.
"Are we ready to talk?" Ron asked in the cutesy voice he had used on Budge.
Ron looked at him, his chest rising and falling at a slow, measured pace.
"I… won't… tell you…" he said, taking deep breaths between words. "You… must be… stopped."
"Must I?" Riley laughed. "Oh, if I must do anything, I must see through my plan! It is you who must confess to what you've done."
"Never." Ron said defiantly.
Riley considered that for a moment. "Very well. Let that be your last word. Robespierre? Tear out his tongue and finish him."
Robespierre stomped over to Ron. Ron clenched his jaws shut but Robespierre wrench his mouth open with one hand, and with the other he reached in, grabbed Ron's tongue, and gave a swift, but firm, yank.
Riley scooped up Budge in his arms and proceeded to make his way to the monitor room, where he would be able to watch everything from a secure location. Behind him, Ron's wails of agony echoed throughout the lair.
[SFX: bones cracking]
*****
Riley leaned back in his office chair, allowing Budge to make himself comfy on his lap. The sleek brown cat purred incessantly, relaxing Riley just a little bit. Providing that Robespierre was careful with his methods, Budge would be eating well for the next few weeks. Nothing satisfied the kitty's cravings like fresh meat. Riley would see to it that it was prepared properly.
"You deserve the best, don't you?" he asked the cat. Budge looked up at him with big blue eyes and chirped. "I'm so glad you agree!"
The cat curled up and fell asleep in his owner's lap, his collar a stark blue against his brown fur. Riley stroked the cat as he turned his attention to the monitors. He had modeled the monitor room after some of his favorite science fiction movies. Although all of this technology was state-of-the-art and continuously improving, he liked the 1980s aesthetics. They made him feel important, and leant his plans more of an official air.
He looked over the monitors and smiled at his handiwork. So far, nobody had been able to connect the super soldiers or the disappearances to Naysmith Pharmaceuticals. There were theories floating around that the missing people had been abducted by aliens or had dropped into vats of acid, but nobody suspected a reputable pharmaceutical giant of taking them for their experiments.
One screen showed an empty street somewhere in Maine. The night was pitch black. He didn't bother to read the precise location. A young woman in yoga pants and a hoodie was walking down the road, blissfully unaware of the world around her. A van screeched up behind her and two men in black piled out, grabbing her from behind. Her mouth opened in a scream, but the two men threw her in the van before she could make a noise.
On another screen, a beach was full of tourists. The waves lapped at the sand as people sunbathed and built sandcastles. The sky was a rich daytime blue. Riley cackled as a contingent of two hundred super soldiers suddenly emerged from the peaceful-looking sea and began ripping into the tourists. The tourists ran in all directions, screaming and crying.
A super soldier grabbed a man and snapped his neck in two.
On a third screen, super soldiers had already begun their attack. Only, this contingent wasn't supposed to kill. No, their job was to help the kidnappers. They had finished up their attack and were herding their captives into a large, unmarked truck. That truck would make its way to the nearest Naysmith Pharmaceuticals facility where it would unload its cargo, and then the fun would begin.
Riley could spend all day watching the monitors, and sometimes he did. It was an easy way to relax, knowing that his plans were being carried out, despite efforts to stop him. After he had learned about the missing thumb drive, he had flown into a violent rage, and even shot the messenger who brought him the news. They went through a lot of messengers because of Riley's temper.
Ambrose had the thumb drive, and if he gave that thumb drive to the wrong people, then Riley's carefully laid plans would have to be accelerated. And nobody wanted that. He only wanted to use the ballistic missiles, but he would use the nukes if push came to shove. There was plenty in his bunker to keep himself, his companions, and Budge the cat safe and healthy until he could return to the surface and be the savior the world needed.
Alex Ambrose had taken the glory far too many times for Riley's liking. It was Riley Naysmith's turn to save the world. If he had to save the world by briefly ending it, then that's what he would do. His army of super soldiers was a crucial part of that plan. They were only an early stage in his plan.
"Where are you, Ambrose?" Riley asked aloud, stroking Budge as he looked from monitor to monitor. He hit a few keys on the console and brought up the Baltimore woods in their entirety. There was nothing to indicate that there was a safe house anywhere in that region, and that frustrated Riley to no end.
He kept looking through the screens, his agitation growing with every passing minute. Then, his eyes landed on one screen in particular. Two women, both of whom looked terribly familiar. He knew them well. All of their weaknesses and strengths. One of them, Debbie Clifton, was dangerously close to Alex Ambrose. She was his girlfriend.
"This is wonderful," Riley told Budge. "His little girlfriend, and their friend, have delivered themselves to us. Could this be any more perfect?"
Riley smirked, thinking of all the ways he could use her to get to his nemesis. A plan formed in his mind as he pressed a blue button. A red light appeared next to his microphone.
"Security," he said. "There are two armed and dangerous women roaming the halls of the lab. Apprehend them at all costs, but do not kill. I repeat, do not kill."
He released the button and leaned back in his chair, then watched the chaos unfold.
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone