[Munch's Master]

Well, it's time for Chapter 22, entitled The Beginning. The Beginning of what, you may ask? Well, the answer to that you shall find out at a later date, or perhaps not at all.

First, however, I have a major ENORMOUS TOWER OF TEXT AND DOOM warning. This chapter is 4717 words long, getting just onto the 9th page in Word. Read if you dare test yourselves, reply if you can survive this endless text wall.

Chapter 22: The Beginning
The morning after Mikey’s death
05:13 am. 8 out of 10 minutes into Mudokon breakfast time.
Trevor’s eyes flickered up from his food as Larry entered the cafeteria. His expression was not as ashen as Trevor’s, yet there was no mistaking the dullness in his eyes that confirmed he knew of the previous night’s events. Larry sat down beside Jeff, opposite Trevor. Max was to Trevor’s left, and all 4 were positioned distantly from the mudokons who were less than sympathetic to Larry’s goals.
“So you’ve heard then.” Said Trevor.
“Ha, how couldn’t I? The Sligs supervising my workstation were laughing all about it for ages. The Slurgs in the sewers probably heard it.” Larry replied.
“Mhm. The Sligs supervising me and the others were talking about it too. I think Arthur’s pretty much unreachable now.”
There was a pause, for both reflection and a mouthful of cafeteria slop.
“I’m not convinced about that, Trev. From what I heard, it was kill or be killed as well for Arthur.”
Trevor shook his head sadly “I don’t mean it in that aspect. I don’t mean Arthur’s settled in. In fact I mean quite the opposite.”
He gave Larry a hard look “His mind will have been shattered by it. I trained to be a shaman Larry, I know all about Quarma. He’s, maybe not a good, but at least a decent Slig who now has to deal with terrible Quarma for his actions, even though he had no choice. He’ll rip himself apart, and if we spoke to him it’d only make it worse. He’d feel hypocritical, he’d suffer from the other Sligs again. So however you hoped to incorporate him into your plan, forget it. Besides anything else, if he can put up with that Quarma, he will be settled in with the other Sligs, and that might be even worse.”
Larry looked downcast “I hadn’t planned on incorporating him into this plan, Trev. We don’t need an inside Slig, we just need a bit of help from the other guys.”
Trevor shrugged “I dunno, Larry. Your plan was to just sneak on while the loaders are loading up. How do we need help for that? We just slip on while the loaders are busy, and keep quiet.”
Larry shook his head “I mean for the distraction.”
“I don’t need help for a distraction Larry. I think you said yourself that I can cause a riot in an empty room.” Max smirked.
His companion nodded hesitantly “Well, I still think you need a guy who knows that the riot’s a fix, otherwise who do you attack to start the riot?”
Max grinned “Why don’t I just smack Roy or Stan?”
His 3 friends’ eyes each held a different response- Trevor’s rolled in exasperation, Larry’s twinkled with acceptance, and Jeff’s bored vacantly through Max’s left shoulder, the 3rd mudokon back in a world of his own since being de-Gassed.
Larry nodded again, more fervently now. “Let’s do it, then. Off to the loading bays.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
05:21 am. 1 minute into morning work period.
Grey visors slowly slid open, revealing 2 closely spaced red orbs, beaming their brightness into the open air. Arthur clambered to his feet, from his seated slump in the stockyards where he had spent the night. The Scrab pens were to his right, the Paramites to his left, and the food hatches opposite him. His back was to the factory wall, the door inches from his left hand. He shook his head, and instantly the previous evening’s atrocities flew back to him.
“What’d I do?” He implored, gazing against the chain-link fence to the Paramite stocks. The simple pack animals cocked their heads towards him, face-fingers probing for morsels. One Paramite dashed at Arthur, its ear-grating screech cut off as it crashed against the fence.
“Dumb critter. Nearly as dumb as me fer lettin’ Mikey get me inta that mess. Stupid bastard, there weren’t nothin’ else I coulda done.”
Arthur was so deeply immersed in his thoughts he failed to notice the clacking feet behind him, until all 3 pairs of legs were close by. He looked up.
“Oh. Hello Lak. Again.”
Arthur’s former figure of hatred, now merely a less than friendly colleague, sneered back. The animosity between them was hardly forgotten. Lak’s 2 sidekicks seemed unwilling to be present, for the time being.
“Heh. Good job yesterday, getting rid o’ that mutinous lil fucker. Maybe you’ll make a decent Slig yet.” Lak said.
Arthur sighed “If you’re here ta just talk about last night, then piss off. I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout it enough, an don’t need anyone ta repeat what Iv’e already said ta myself.”
Lak cackled “Oh! So you’ve already congratulated yerself in ya own head! It doesn’t surprise me that you’re an egomaniac, ya know.”
“Very droll, Lak. Ya know what I mean.” Arthur leaned against the fence, folding his arms.
Lak cocked his head, a cruel glint in his eyes again “….so you’re regrettin it, then, eh? Well, I wonder what’d happen if I tol’ Merrick that you’re wishin Mikey weren’t dead? If I told him that you only killed him ta save yer own treacherous hide?”

Arthur didn’t budge from his slouch. “You really don’ get it, do ya? I’m a Slig. He was a Slig. Even you’re a Slig, though sometimes I do wonder whether or not you’d be more at home in one o’ the help clinics in the big cities, what with your brains. I don’t like fightin’ other Sligs. I sure as hell don’ wanna kill other Sligs, whoever they are. Leave the civil wars ta the politickers, tha Gluks an Vykkers an Chroniclers, leave the mindless killin of each other ta the 1%ers an the Outlaws. We shouldn’t kill our own. Gluks want us dead, they do it.”

Lak’s cronies glanced at each other.
“Ta be honest Lak, I kinda agree. Not with the whole let the Gluks do it crap, cause that sounds like rebel talk, but that Sligs should stick together.”
Lak turned to his accomplice “Ya don’ exactly stick together with the clowns what work in Zulag 7, do ya?”
The other Slig smirked “Yeah, well they’re a bunch of reserved lil dicks anyway. Don’ even drink Brew, fer cryin’ out loud.”
The 3rd Slig spoke up “Speakin o’ which, I could do with one.” He nudged the other of Lak’s lackeys, who took this as a cue to leave to do something more enjoyable.

Arthur grinned “Ya buddies have gone. Doncha think us sligs should stick together now, eh?”
The other Slig’s sneer didn’t leave his face. “Ya talk nice, I’ll give ya that. Ya have a way with words, maybe ya should be one o’ them politickers yerself. Certainly suit ya, what with yer actions last night, killin’ a fellow wannabe escapist. I certainly think that lil speech of yours is a very “Power to the Sligs” type of rebel speech, an if I happened ta let it slip, who kn-“
Lak was cut off by Arthur who, having heard enough, struck the other Slig across the face. As Lak stumbled, Arthur snatched the Slig’s baton from his pants belt and swung it into his lower back. Lak crumpled, and Arthur swung the bat at the lock of the feeding bay for the Paramite pens. He grabbed Lak, dragging him bodily over to the fence, before forcing him head first into the bay, which operated on a double-lock airlock type of system. Arthur reached through, and gripped the far shutter lock, lifting it ever so slightly. When fully raised, Lak would be exposed to the Paramites, who were very numerous and very hungry.
“Gimme a reason Lak, please gimme a reason ta open this lock all the way!”
“Ha! Ya wouldn’t bloody dare, ya bastard! You open that, you’ll get executed fer murder!”
“I don’ open it, you’ll give Merrick false info an he’ll feed me ta the Slogs!”
Lak’s eyes bugged out in panic “C’mon Arthur, ya don’ think I’d really do that, do ya? It was just a joke!”
“Just a threat, more like. You wanted ta have a bit of power over me, but right now Lak, I have the greatest power of you. The power o’ life an’ death. So ya better convince me why I should give ya the former, rather than the latter.” Arthur wasn’t fooling around anymore. He raised the shut another fraction.
“Ok, ok, ok!!! I’ll er, I’ll not spread lies about ya ta anyone then, K? I’ll let ‘em know that ya are an honest Slig!”
“And?”
“AND!?? Er, er, um, and, and-and I’ll er, ask Merrick ta put a word in to the boss about havin’ official executions rather than us Sligs doin em! Ya know, the old Rupture Farms style formal an’ public stuff!” Lak stammered.
“That’s not much of a reason. Not get any more suggestions?” The gap between shutter and earth increased again. The Paramites were scrabbling at the hatch now, desperate for sustenance.
“Er, I’ll er, um, er....”
“S’ok, I got 2 ideas ya could do. First, ya can put in fer a transfer yerself, cause I’m sick of havin this constant feud between me an you. Go piss off ta some Flub Fuels in the middle of West Mudos or somethin’. Second, ya can buy me a brew, cause I’m dyin fer a Brew, but ain’t got any cash on me. That alright with you?”
“Sure! That’s fine!” Lak couldn’t get the words out soon enough.
The shutter fell back, sealing Lak from the Paramites, and Arthur pulled the terrified wretch out of the feeding bay. Lak frantically reached for his wallet, tossing it to Arthur.
“A nice fresh Brew from the bar over in the rec room fer the higher-ups, rather than the Vendos, I think. That’ll be about, 5 Moolah.”
Lak snarled, but didn’t move.
“I think I’ll hang on to your club too, as an insurance policy fer ya ta get those things done that ya said about. The insurance bein’ that if ya don’t do it, I can beat yer ta death with this thing…..Ooh, an this lil thing here too,” he said, a malicious tone now in Arthur’s voice as he examined a set of cards “What’s this? “Nolybab New Stars Agencies”? “Just give us a call an you’ll be actin’ by this fall”? “Best agency in Mudos”? So, ya wanna be some TV starlet eh? Don’ think it’d help with the other Sligs if they knew ya wanted ta be a tra dee la an’ tights theatre boy, eh?”
Lak shrugged, his angry glare still affixed. “S’only actin’, nearly every Slig’s fame greedy.”
Arthur nodded “Yeah, but I can pull a page outta your book an’….lie….a little. Fer instance, I hardly think they’d be so acceptin’ if they thought it were musicals ya were goin in for? Or one of them poofter Vykkers’ lil soap operas.”
Lak stood up “You’re a right bastard, Arthur. I reckon ya prob’ly [i]are/i] an honest ‘un right now. I’ll do yer lil demands, but this ain’t settled ‘tween us.”
Arthur nodded “I wouldn’t expect it ta be.”
He turned to go to his work station, but Lak stopped him again “one more thing, where’re ya workin next? That way I can let ya know when I’ve sorted it. Don’t want ya ‘accidentally’ thinkin’ I’ve tricked ya, do I?”
Arthur nodded “I’m meant ta be in the loading bays next. If ya can’t find me there, I’m in Zulag 6 after lunch, next ta them reserved types yer cronies were talkin’ about.”
Lak nodded reluctantly, as Arthur entered ther factory. Arthur had barely set off down the corridor however, before the factory speakers crackled with a message. “Mhm, Slig nyumber 777, goes h’by the h’name of h’Arthur, please proceed dy-irectly t’hyo the h’office of Mr Godrar, h’immediately. Repeat, Mhm, Slig nyumber 777, goes h’by the h’name of h’Arthur, please proceed dy-irectly t’hyo the h’office of Mr Godrar, h’immediately.” The quickly irritating tones of Alberto the Chronicler were easily recognised.
Arthur sighed.
‘Great. What do they want with me now? I bet THIS is about the Mikey business as well.’
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
05:44 am. 24 minutes into morning work period. 16 minutes until first product Train departs.
Larry looked over at Trevor, who was busy watching the clock on the work screen. “What do you reckon, now?” He hissed.
Trevor glanced back “Give it a moment. We start it too early, it’ll all be resolved too quick and they might choose to double-check the train. We can’t be on the train while it’s still in the station for much more than 5 minutes.”
Larry nodded “I know. I’m just a little….edgy. I want to get things going as soon as I can to make sure we can pull it off. I’m thinking if we wait too long, we might lose the opportunity.”
Larry threw his switch, admitting his crate onto the conveyor belt where the crates were capped. He watched as the crate was sealed, yet could still be opened for the Sligs over by the train to inspect. The final locking bolts were put in by the mudokons at the train, who then winched the crates up onto the train itself. He then glanced at Jeff, who already had the item they intended to place in a crate ready.
Jeff fingered the necklace cautiously, it’s blue jewel in the centre the reason for its choice- to the uneducated Slig, it may appear to be a spooce-charged device of sabotage.
The loading system was truly a thing to behold. A very old fashioned system, it had the look of a very ungainly and inefficient form of production, but in truth this overly complex appearance was purely superficial- the process was remarkably productive. A large number of parallel conveyor belts fed the boxed yet open-air produce up from the filling rooms, where the crates or barrels had been filled with Septik Snaks’ patented not-so-haute cuisine. A mudokon operated each conveyor belt, it was their job to check the container contained the correct product, was correctly labelled, and then pulled the lever to admit the barrel or crate onto the next part of the belt, where an automated machine sealed the container with a screwed on iron cap with a hatch. The container then departed the belt and dropped onto a push-trolley that could transport 2 barrels or 6 crates. A mudokon then wheeled the trolley to the train, for the Sligs to inspect, tick off the quantity, then admit the 10 loader mudokons to place a special bolt through 2 loops, sealing the hatch down. The bolt had steel clips on each end to affix it to the lid properly. The containers were then winched up onto the train and stacked accordingly. The mudokon who had wheeled the containers over then ran the trolley back to the belt to transport more. Multiple wheelers were assigned to each belt to ensure a continuous flow.
Larry glanced over at Max, who had made sure to position himself on the same conveyor belt as Stan. His duties were as follows- Max would accidentally send too many containers on to be sealed for Stan to cope with. When the resulting pile-up occurred, Max would blame Stan, and would, after raised words, throw a punch. The more bystanders he could get involved the better.
Max nodded, and Larry nodded back.
“Time, Trev?”
Trevor looked up at the clock. Trevor was positioned 1 belt nearer to the clock and, thus, the entry door, than Larry, and from his position could view the clock without machinery obstructing him. “9 minutes till 6.”
“OK?” Larry asked, desperate to get the plan rolling.
“Give it 2 more.”
Larry sighed. He glanced at Jeff again. Once Jeff planted the necklace, Max was to cause the transport mishap, and ideally draw Jeff’s wheeler away from the belt. Jeff would then wheel the spiked container towards the train. Larry and Trevor then had to acquire trolleys and wheel fully loaded trolleys to the train. They would have them inspected before Jeff, to allow them to board the train smoothly.
“How do we get hold of the trolleys, exactly?” Trevor hissed, above the noise of machinery clanking.
“When Max starts, there’ll be a stack-up of wheelers for his belt. We ask for their trolleys from them, and use them for our belts. The pile-up on our belts that’ll happen from us not manning our stations won’t be noticed in all the other commotion.” Larry leant in close to Trevor to whisper the detailed explanation.
Trevor nodded, and resumed his work duties. The labour continued as normal briefly, before Larry again whispered “Time?”
“7 minutes. Where’s Stan?” Trevor replied.
Larry glanced “Heading back, at about the right distance too.”
“Go.”
Larry grinned inwardly. The plan was in motion. He pushed his ponytail out of his eyes with both hands, flicking his head back as he did so- the signal to both Jeff and Max to begin. Jeff, in the process of craning into the top of a barrel to check it was the right product, surreptitiously let the necklace slip from his hand and onto the surface of the barrel’s contents.
Max barely glanced in his barrel, and pulled the lever. He did this repeatedly and rapidly, and sure enough, as Stan reached the belt, there was a pile-up and overflow.
“Oi! What’re you playing at! You’ve sent too many through too quick ya big idiot!”
Max turned to Stan “I’ve just done my job! You’re too damn slow to keep up you lazy prat.”
“I’M too lazy!? I’m running back and forth here, you’re just stood there pulling a switch! Not surprising cause that’s all you’re good for Max, I mean you are just a freakish oaf, right?”
Max left his station and shoved Stan, who shoved Max back and kicked him in the shin. Max then slugged Stan with a haymaker, knocking him backwards over his own trolley. Stan picked himself up, and as Max smoothly pushed the trolley aside, and into the path of Larry to retrieve, Stan punched Max in the gut. The bulkish conspirator, however, was not easily felled, and bodily pushed Stan into Jeff’s wheeler. The 2 mudokons fell in a ball of tangled limbs, and the unwitting bystander started scrapping with Stan now. Jeff retrieved the forgotten trolley, making sure to load the spiked barrel on.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
05:53:41 am
Trevor spied a wheeler, meant to follow Stan on Max’s belt, yet unable to work now. He hurried over. “Hey! What’s all the commotion about?”
The mudokon turned “They’re fighting about their work speed, I think.”
“Right. Look, since you’re kind of, stuck now, can I borrow your trolley? We’re a bit short on my belt.”
The mudokon nodded “yeah sure. You keep working, but this is too good entertainment for me to miss!”
Trevor procured the trolley and hurried to his belt. He quickly loaded it up, and started walking to the train in time with Larry. They looked for Jeff, but paused. “Crap.” Muttered Larry.
Jeff, in acquiring the trolley, had gotten to close to the scrappers. A wayward punch from the former wheeler had caught Jeff, who had fallen onto said wheeler. Max reacted quickly. Under the pretence of going after Stan, he hauled the wheeler mudokon and Stan out of the way, and turned back to Stan. The wheeler leapt for Max, Jeff now forgotten, and bore Max into the mudokon Trevor had been speaking to. The 4th mudokon squirmed, and caught the other wheeler round the ear before accidentally tripping Stan. Max pulled himself up with another bystander as support, before pushing him out of the way into another watcher. These 2 were soon drawn in as well, and despite the fists flying, Max felt a sense of achievement.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
05:54:37 am
Jeff, now free from the turmoil, gripped the trolley again and began walking to the train. Larry looked at Trevor. “That was lucky. Max has done a good job.”
The 3 mudokons walked in single file to the train, as a handful of Sligs passed them in the opposite direction with batons at the ready. The guards had finally taken notice of the fight, and security across the loading bay floor was hurrying to prevent the riot – sleep was all well and good, but they wanted to keep their jobs.
The 3 of them reached the train, where only 1 Slig remained, a fortuitous case, as all the others had ran to the fight.
The Slig, looking utterly bored of his job, swigged a dusty Brew can between each check. He opened Larry’s first barrel, glanced in, closed it, opened the 2nd, glanced in, closed it. “Yep, fine.”
Larry moved on to get his barrel bolted and secured, but lingered, removing the barrels from his trolley but remaining on the platform.
Trevor moved up to the Slig. Swig of brew, glance in each barrel “Yep, fine.”
Trevor moved to join Larry. He nodded to one of the mudokons “Winch us up, we’ll help them unload it up there.”
The mudokon paused “But you’re meant to unload the trolley here, then they move it on while you go to get refilled.”
“Look, that chaos over there means we’re in no hurry. And besides, it’s making your jobs easier, gives y’all less to do.”
The mudokon nodded “OK.”
The Slig glanced in each of Jeff’s barrels “yep, fi-wait.”
He fished in the 2nd barrel, and removed the necklace. “What in the hell is this?”
Jeff looked innocent “Oh. It’s one of my necklaces, must have dropped in.”
The Slig looked sceptical. “It’s all blue in the middle, an I know your funny lil Spooce things are blue, an’ they can fire arrows and stuff. I think we have a terrorist weapon here!”
Jeff looked brilliantly confused. “No, it’s a necklace, sir. My necklace.”
The Slig was amused while still unconvinced “Necklace? Only them female-dominant Vykkers wear poncey things like necklaces.”
Jeff then gestured to the bangles, chains and bracelets that eternally adorned him. “It’s just like these.”
Trevor nodded to the mudokon again. “Winch us up, he’ll be questioning him forever.”
The mudokon sighed in agreement, and nodded to the mudokon on the other side of the winch. The 2 raised Larry and Trevor, and the barrels, up, their trolleys left unattended below. They wheeled them on to the train, and made a beeline for the nearest 2 mudokons.
Trevor spoke first again “Hi! We’ve been told to help you guys up here with sorting stuff out. Cause of all the chaos outside, there’s concerns you might be overstretched.”
1 of the fellow labourers didn’t react. “Chaos?”
Trevor nodded “Yeah, some guys have started a fight on the conveyor belts.”
The other worker grinned “I gotta see this. Breaks the monotony!”
The 2 of them walked out onto the platform, calling to be winched down so they could see.
The Slig, meanwhile, was finally done with Jeff. “Alright, fine. But I’ll be watching you, oddball.”
“Bignose.” Jeff retorted.
“Watch it! An’ they’re tentacles, not a nose, ya dumbass.”
Jeff then wheeled his trolley back, his part completed too.
Larry and Trevor walked to the back of the train, in search of a crowbar to remove Trevor’s manacles.
“It’s gone perfectly, Trev! I knew we’d do it this time!” Larry said excitedly.
Trevor looked back “for once Larry, I may have to agree. It’s almost gone too well, but I think we’re home and dry. I can’t believe I’m saying that.”
Larry’s feet slapped on the train floor, before he silently yelped in pain as he stood down hard upon the pointed curve of a crowbar.
“There! Ow!” he mumbled.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
05:58:14 am
The Slig who had remained on duty watched the commotion from afar, grinning as the greater numbers and resources of the security quickly quelled the fracas.
“Some o’ them slaves’ll be in fer some shit.” He said to himself, before his eyes aught a number of Sligs quickly walking towards him, all armed with rifles except for the leader, who needed no weapon.
“Great, Merrick. What’s the guy want now?” The Slig said to himself again.
The Head of Security quickly reached the Slig, who produced his checklist. “All stock’s accounted for, sir. Train’s as good as full an’ ready ta go. I know it’s barely a minute till departure’s due but I reckon it can get turned round.”
Merrick shook his head “There’s gonna be a delay.”
The Slig quivered. “No sir, not here. I can sort things out just fine! The riot stopped some of the conveyor belts’ stock from reaching us, but we can send it through as a bump-up on the next train delivery like we do normally with delays, sir.”
Another shake, another quiver. “No, there’s gonna be a delay.”
“B-but sir! I can get the workers off the train now! MUDS, GET OFF THE TRAIN NOW! An’ besides, the bosses’ll have my blood if the train don’t run on time!”
A third head shake “No, cause I’m the one causin the delay. I got a reason.”
The Slig nodded “An yer reason fer jeopardizin’ my career an life is?”
Merrick grinned, before walking past the Slig “I’ve got information that there’s gonna be an escape attempt, involvin’ this train.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
06:00:16 am.
Larry and Trevor, huddled at the back of the train, watched as the handful of other mudokons disembarked the train.
“There were 6 of them in all, less than normal.” Trevor whispered.
“They’re all off and counted for now though.” Said Larry.
“Mmm.” Trevor paused. “The train’s late. They never let the trains run late, even if they’ve not been fully stocked they send along supplements on the next train. Why’s it late?”
As the words left Trevor’s lips, the winch could be heard squeaking again, pulleys raising the platform back up to the train. Mechanical clacks rang out, the sound of Slig pants walking haphazardly around the train. A gruff voice then spoke.
“Come out now, the both of ya. If ya don’t, we’ll shoot ya when we find ya. Come out, an’ ya don’t get shot. At least, not yet anyway.”
Larry and Trevor looked at each other in silent horror.
“How do they know? How do they know there’s 2 of us?” Larry whispered.
“They probably don’t, they’re just guessing.” Trevor mumbled back.
The voice spoke again “Whatcher names? I think the lil birdie said Lemmy an Trigger,m or something like that anyway.” A terrified pause, before the voice spoke again, dripping with sarcasm and menace “Oh wait, Larry an’ Trevor. That was it. I’m fergettin’ stuff in my old age, heh heh.”
Larry was near delirious in panic “Someone’s betrayed us, they have to have! Oh Odd, I’m gonna get the death penalty now, after all my offences!”
Trevor was in hurried thought “We both will, remember the legislations they introduced last year?”
Larry started shaking “Oh Odd! We’re both dead!”
Trevor was still pondering. He gingerly picked up the crowbar. “Maybe not. Or at least, not both of us.”
He swung the crowbar against the back of Larry’s head. The metal struck with a hard blow, and Larry fell flat, unconscious.
Trevor slowly stood up. “OK, I’m here. It’s me.”
Merrick spun, and quickly threw an arm out to stop the handful of other Sligs from firing “Where’s the other slimey bugger?”
Trevor grinned “Other? You mean Larry? Didn’t you know?”
Merrick paused. “Know? Know what?”
Trevor ginned, and gesture to his chant-suppressive shackles. “I’m a Shaman, as you can see. These shackles, pfft, they don’t work. I’ve been possessing Larry to try and escape the whole time! He’s a pawn, I needed him to test the water for my plans. I’ve no way out now so, I figured I’d let you know how I pulled the wool over your eyes. Gives me a bit of satisfaction before my execution, anyway. I’ve de-possessed him now, he’ll probably have no idea whats’ going on but think he was behind the plans himself. But he isn’t.”
Trevor stepped out, raising his hands in surrender. “It’s me you want. It always has been.”
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