The Inquisitor And The Purveyor (Invite)

[Helena Rahal]

Illuminated path that you have created
To break the chains of the higher power
Your attempts held so high and glorious
Have brought forth the shadow that consumes

It always ended up like this, someone decided that they were above the law, secure from the long arm of the law because of their influence. They got an air of confidence and arrogance that nothing could stop them, that they were free from the rules that the rest of society had to follow. That confidence enabled to begin to dabble where they should not have, for some it was the drug trade, others it was organized crime, and the list went on and on. They were wrong though, their celebrity or influence did not mean they were free to do whatever they desired and not face the consequences of their actions.

Eventually their activities were found out, the American government did not sit idly by despite what the foolish politicians in Congress seemed to show. The agencies within the government were constantly doing their jobs, pursuing justice, intelligence, and upgrading their methods and systems when they needed to. Regardless of how sophisticated an organization or activity might be, they would eventually be discovered. What happened after that though was where things started to get interesting.

Yet that was not Mathias' concern, his concern was how to apprehend the newest of his targets that had come onto his desk. Mathias was not too surprised to see that folder slide across his desk, it was only a matter of time until this person was going to do something to come onto his radar. The company that he now served had made it a simple inevitability, they had a very poor history there at the top. It was something about that position that just made those that occupied it feel like they were gods among men. How mistaken they were.

For the past two weeks, they had been monitoring their target completely. They had obtained the wiretap, had positioned cameras inside his house when he was at work, and had did everything and then some within their legal power to monitor his life. Ever since that trip to Vegas, they had been his shadow, had been following every detail of his life. There was nothing that he had done the last two weeks that they had not been aware of and Mathias had not combed through. In truth, the subject was quite the workaholic, and perhaps even failing ill because of it, though the trips to the gym seemed to indicate an attempt to become otherwise.

It was going to be a delicate operation, nothing like a bag and tag that would have been the case if they were still a part of the Registration Task Force. Mathias had been loathe to see that agency go by the wayside when the results they had been getting were positive. Just because each of their own leaders had completely fucked up did not mean that the agency needed to be scrapped, it could have simply been reorganized. Specials were a threat to society, just as much if not more than any criminal, even if not all of them abused their powers. The fact that they had any number of powers that could cripple a trained soldier with a single thought was proof enough that there needed to limits to what they were allowed to do, a database of who they were and what they could do. It was for the good of everyone, Specials themselves, they merely failed to see it.

That was in the past though, the RSF had indeed been scrapped and the agents who had been apart of the organization fired or reassigned to a different agency. Mathias was lucky, he had landed on his feet pretty well, getting a position in the FBI rather quickly as they saw the benefits of his talents. And there were a few sympathetic ears to his cause within the higher ups of the agency, and that was why he was here. And why this mission was going to be the most difficult of any of their previous, should the subject fail to cooperate.

"Alright, we know his routine. After he finishes his dinner, I will approach the residence. If the subject fails to cooperate, I want Holmes and Daniels to initiate the secondary plan." Mathias hoped that it would not come to that, but with people like these, you could never tell. Looking at the monitor again, he watched as Mr. Moynahan dug into his meal. Hopefully he savored it, as it was going to be the last meal at home he was going to have in awhile if everything went to plan.

[Christian Moynahan]

Welcome to the inner workings of my mind
So dark and foul I can't disguise, can't disguise
Nights like this, I become afraid
of the darkness in my heart
Hurricane
-MS MR, "Hurricane"

If there was an upside to coming to a large, empty, dark house in the late of night, it was that Christian knew he would have time to himself. When he wanted to be around others, he went out and ran, or visited the gym, or took dinner at a restaurant, or watched a movie. When he wanted to converse with others but not necessarily be around them, he logged on to the IntelliTouch chatroom. Some nights called for solitude, and reading in bed or sometimes working on an Ark project.

And then there were nights like this one. These were nights of forced solitude. He knew he could not be around others, but, at the same time, he did not want to be by himself. The former won out; he would rather brave the night on his own and avoid hurting others than put others out for his own comfort. They were rare enough, as well, and becoming rarer, he liked to think. Or perhaps they were becoming more frequent, but he was learning to manage them. Yes, he thought, that was the more likely explanation.

The world looked different on these nights. It felt darker. The harm and the injustice were nearly palpable. He had tried to explain it to a coworker once, back when he was working in the biomedical industry, but had not been able to articulate it efficiently enough, or perhaps it was simply that he was crazy. He could accept that. But if he was, perhaps he was alone in feeling this strange way. It wasn't quite depression, just a deep sense that the world was burning, smoldering around him, that in the charred remains of misfortune and despair, he was going to be left to rebuild cities from ashes.

It was imagery, in its most basic sense. Premonitions, in another. He was not so pessimistic as to believe that the world would allow itself to fall to pieces in such a manner, but that was the sort of mood that came over him. Every human voice came out in bleats, and every face looked the same. Thus, he closed himself in, to battle those demons on his own. Or as much on his own as he could when he still felt that odd feeling of eyes in his own home, robbing him of most of the comfort he had once sought there. This was going to be a difficult night, Christian noted.

Remaining active usually helped him outlast the mood. So when he entered his home, he immediately set about keeping himself busy, picking up one of Archie Cane's research logs to mull over while also preparing a meal. With both his mind and his hands occupied, he had less attention to spend dwelling on the inner thoughts that attempted to swell up and over him.

He read through the logs in between chopping up vegetables and sautéing them, then folding the mix with some cheese into tortillas and baking them. The oven took about half an hour, which gave him ample time to make some notes on the research logs while he waited. This was more or less standard procedure for him; he seldom ordered out, and only ate out on occasion. He never arrived home at quite the same time, but that had to do more with traffic and "overtime" than much else. It never quite struck him how close to routine he behaved; it always seemed very different to him. But then, he had not been monitoring himself over recent weeks.

Sometimes he talked to himself; now, as he read, he murmured to himself as he scribbled notes in the margins of the report. He estimated when the baking would be finished and, just as he expected, the quesadillas were just perfect for dinner. He would have made a sauce to go with them if he had not been so absorbed in the report - and distracted in trying to distract himself - but he used a bit of spaghetti sauce as a reasonable substitution. A glass of wine completed the course, and he took his time eating while still poring over the report.

What he would do next, he was uncertain. Reading helped sometimes; sometimes it only opened his mind to more twisted thoughts. He had not changed out of his work clothes other than to set his jacket aside; the blue shirt and white pants remained on his person, and he only kicked off his shoes after settling in for dinner. He undid a few buttons of his shirt as he left the kitchen, that room having grown rather warm thanks to the oven, and took his dinner to the living room, where he preferred to eat when he did not have company, which he seldom did. His dining room was barely used.

Once he had finished his dinner, he took the dishes to the sink and washed them. Unwashed dishes always bothered him. Besides, it gave him more time to think about what course of action to take now that he had finished both dinner and the report. He thought about spending a bit of time working out in the upstairs gym, but doing so directly after a meal was never a good plan. Perhaps later. He would likely be unpleasant company even in the chatroom, so that was out. Some music, then. It had been some time since he had practiced; focusing on the guitar would possibly provide him with another respite. He decided to give that a try.

He had not even finished washing the dishes, however, when the doorbell rang. Christian frowned and dried his hands off on a kitchen towel. He was most certainly not expecting any guests. Perhaps someone had the wrong house - that was likely, given how dark it was outside - or a neighbor was in need of something. He moved from the kitchen and through the dining room to access the foyer. There he took a look through the peephole. An unfamiliar man waited without, his clothes denoting him as either someone of status or one who pretended at such. There was seldom much reason one would wear a suit and visit a home this late at night.

Something about this turn of events struck Christian in all the worst ways, and he was certain it had nothing to do with his already dark mood. His senses narrowed into one, telling him all they could in this one brief look through the peephole. The man did not look lost, but, rather, that he was in exactly the right place. Neither did he seem apprehensive at all. The way he held his body betrayed that he was unarmed. His stance gave him an air of self-deigned superiority, suggesting a high-ranked official.

It might have been better to decline to answer the door, or even to slip out the back entrance to his garage and find somewhere to wait this out. But Christian's curiosity was piqued, and he, being a scientist and lover of all learning, never let himself miss a chance to sate that curiosity. This was his home, at any rate; Áine, his own territory, his sanctuary. Between him, plus his abilities, and the house itself, there was so little chance of anything detrimental happening to Christian that it was laughable.

The visitor certainly expected Christian to open the door, perhaps to ask who he was and what his business might be, or to flee, as Christian had briefly considered. But, as with all things, there was another option. Christian would take that option, because it amused him, and because, if the visitor had malevolent intentions or was just not expecting it, Christian would gain even more of an upper hand. The evening might even turn out to be fun, Christian thought for the first time since returning home.

He opened the door and greeted the visitor with a smile. Virginia still had him in its clutches in many ways; here was that Southern hospitality, all dolled up and ready for display. "Good evening," he said, a genial smile on his lips, which reflected, plus a touch of amusement, in his cyan-tinted eyes, his voice like a dark angel's. "Please, come in." As polite as it was, the invitation brooked no argument. He opened the door wide enough for the man to step into the foyer, then opened the next door, that led into the living room. With a sweeping gesture, he indicated the sofas and recliners there. "You are welcome to have a seat, if you like." He folded his hands in front of him - a gesture of openness, all false - and offered the visitor another smile.

"I'm afraid I was not expecting any guests this evening, so I failed to reserve any dinner for the occasion. However, I have many varieties of wine, if you are so inclined, or tea, if you would rather not drink on the job." His smile then showed nothing but pure innocence, clearly not planning to explain how he had deduced that the visitor was present in an official capacity. This was a deliberate attempt by Christian to throw the man off, or at least get a sense of the man's bearings.

If his unexpected guest requested a beverage, Christian would excuse himself and return to the kitchen, leaving the man to admire the room and its variety of Cézanne still-life paintings until Christian returned with two of the drink, one for each of them. If the guest declined, Christian would not leave the room. Either choice led to Christian settling very comfortably in one of the chairs, whether his guest chose to also sit or not.

"I regret that I have not had the pleasure of making your acquaintance before this evening," he said easily, clasping his hands and resting his chin on them as he spoke. A sense of amusement remained in his demeanor, and of curiosity; but also of marked intent. He expected the easygoing nature he had adopted for now would not lessen the guest's perception that he considered himself a man not to be crossed. "I take it you know who I am, but I would be glad to learn who you are, and what matters have brought you to my home this evening."

[Helena Rahal]

An angel swept across the beams of light
Illumination brought to a world that was cast in darkness
But did the beast that had cast such such shadows rose to defend its realm
And in its wroth did the angel feel a mortal's fear

Mathias held a certain amount of respect for Christian despite having to apprehend him for his crimes. There was a dedication to a cause, to seeing his work through even if it was on the extreme side. More people in this world needed to have just a fraction of that sort of dedication and so much more and great things would get done. Alas, it was only people like himself and Mr. Moynahan that had that sort of will, that dedication to their tasks. Those in their mold were few and often held selfish interests in their pursuits.

Regardless, Christian would not be spending the night in his home however their encounter went. If he tried to escape, there was the rest of the team to help Mathias chase him down as well as the other options. Christian by all right appeared to be a fairly intelligent individual, perhaps he would see the error in his ways and give himself up, or perhaps just the weight of the charges against him would put some fear into him. His crimes were grave indeed but not so much that if Christian decided to be smart that his incarceration would need be long.

And it seemed Christian had finished his meal as Mathias looked in on video feed from their planted cameras. It was time then to get this mission's most perilous portion underway and do the dirty business of their profession. Straightening his tie and making sure he had his belongings inside the pockets of his jacket. There was no need for weapon, not for him, he was the honest face of the operation. The daggers were hidden out of sight for the hope that they would not be needed in this engagement.

Mathias approached the entrance head held high, full of his belief that what he was doing was the right thing to do. He rang the doorbell and then waited, seeing if Mr. Moynahan would face the devil on his door step. For a moment he thought that Christian had decided to be a coward and attempt to flee the premises with as long as it was taking for the door to be addressed. Yet the creak of the door being opened followed by the sight of the pale CEO of Ark who was as pale and sickly as ever. Taking him by force might be easier than Mathias had anticipated, if it came to that.

"Good evening sir." Mathias said calmly as Christian greeted him and welcomed him into his home. Christian lead Mathias into the living and even offered him a seat, but Mathias was content to stand for now. He did not plan to stay here very long at all and he was not about to get comfortable just for appearance sake. For that same reason he slightly shook his head as Christian offered him a drink, though he did not miss that Christian already picked up that Mathias was still on the clock.

It seemed by the way Christian was behaving that he thought this was some sort of... game or something to be taken lightly. Sat comfortable in his seat and looking bemused with his head resting on his clasped hands. It was obvious that Christian was trying to dictate the terms of their little engagement, thinking that just because it was his residence he was the master of the domain. Mathias had no time for such mental games of fancy.

"My name is Mathias and I am an agent of the federal government, that should suffice for now." Mathias purposely left out which agency he was representing and did not use his whole name. Mathias knew that Christian had contacts within the government that he could use to whatever means he desired or hoped would help his situation. Mathias was not prepared to have those interlopers come crashing down on his case and ruining it.

"You already know what I am here Mr. Moynahan. You believe yourself to be special Mr. Moynahan, to be above the law. You are not." Mathias voice never raised from his normal tone but his eyes narrowed on the seated man. "Who do you think you are, what do you think you are? Some sort of messiah? The great rescuer of Ark and the nation? You can not even help yourself, as your own feeble body shows."

His words already hinted at what had brought him and his team to Christian's door, a man of Christian's nature could figure that out. What was left was seeing about how the extraction was going to be. "You have a choice ahead of you Mr. Moynahan, a very important choice that will dictate how your future is going to go. You should know that one way or another that you will be in my custody when I leave these grounds. I am offering you the chance to walk out with your head held high, without cuffs, and without the flashing lights to attract attention."

Mathias was prepared if the realization of the direness of his situation would cause Christian to turn violent. Even if he was weakened, he was still a Special, of that Mathias was sure after witnessing a brief moment of Christian using his gifts. On top of that, he was known to practice martial arts. Yet Mathias hoped for Christian's sake that he would take the easier of the paths offered to him.

[Christian Moynahan]

Please get in my way!
I just want to separate
From what’s burning inside my head;
I want it easy!
So I fill this room up
With death and sit back
And take a deep breath and start spinning
Out of control!
-Evans Blue (Kevin Matisyn), “Black Hole”

Was this a game? Not at all. Was Christian making a game out of it? Absolutely. The situation was far too ludicrous to let pass without injecting some amusement into it. Christian only regretted that his guest did not find the game quite as diverting. That made him feel quite like a poor host.

No matter. Mathias had made his play, a weak one in Christian’s opinion. He chose to remain standing and refused Christian’s offer of a drink, both of which Christian had expected. The man did not divulge the government agency from which he came, but that would be easy enough to ferret out, Christian figured. He had a multitude of liaisons and moles in Washington, and he felt very comfortable in his ability to learn what he needed and avoid whatever this man wished to put him through.

Christian merely raised an eyebrow. He gave no reply for the moment. He knew already, of course, what the immediate consequence of this evening visit would be; that was why he had considered flight before. He had not yet decided whether he would cooperate; if he did not, then nothing that was said here would matter, as no one would be present to hear - or see - it. No one among the living, at least. However, if he chose to be taken in - and, make no mistake, it was his choice, not Mathias’, nor that of any of Mathias’ peers or superiors - he would have to be careful what he said, as it could be used against him at any moment. So he remained seated just as he was, his chin on his fingers, his eyebrow quirked, and allowed Mathias to make the next move.

The next move was a good one. It might have been another failure, as Mathias showed his hand far too early - accusing him of viewing himself as above the law, or, alternatively, a messiah; but it was the last few words that actually landed. Still, Christian remained in the same position, but his eyebrows lowered and his eyes narrowed. The observation was fair enough; Christian’s skin had grown paler, his body had thinned, his hair had even grown out a fair deal. The fallacy was that Christian’s physical appearance said nothing about how proficient he might be with his ability, which Christian was now seriously thinking about demonstrating.

But what irritated Christian the most was the flawed reasoning. Christian’s hair had grown out because he had not tended to it for weeks; Christian’s body was thin because he had barely eaten for the same length of time; and his skin was pale because he had spent that time closed off in one of Ark’s laboratories, working almost literally twenty-four hours a day in an effort to find a way to end the cholera outbreak. Did that count for nothing, then? Did that merit a snide comment from some government suit who thought himself capable of facing off against him?

He rose and was slowly walking around the living room’s furnishings, very slowly, as his mind was working at hyperspeed, even faster than normal, elongating his steps. He was considering his options; he was considering how easy it would be to silently slip a psionic dagger just below the man’s cervical spinal nerve 1, and then, as he struggled to breathe, to draw another dagger across his neck to sever his jugular veins; the psionic weapons never left marks, and then all that would be left would be to leave the body someplace, a body intact but simply nonfunctional, a mystery to everyone that would never be solved. The perfect murder.

The man was speaking of surrender now, of walking out without a commotion. Christian was well aware of what would come of that. Mathias would receive heaps of praise for having brought in Christian Moynahan, weak and meek as a lamb, to have brought the CEO of Ark so low that he now sat in a jail cell rather than the high seat of the boardroom table. Such an accomplishment would surely bring veneration and certainly a raise or a promotion. Meanwhile, Christian would face a trial or a hearing - he was not sure which route would be taken there - for a very simple reason, and one that had benefited the entire nation in its turn.

The crime he was being arrested for, as yet unstated - a point in Christian’s favor - had to be the role he had played in discovering the famine and releasing the information widely enough that a solution had been developed without the government’s involvement. Was the government truly upset about Christian’s reach, by his obtaining what should have been confidential intelligence and using it to help their country? Or was it simply embarrassed by the egg on its collective face? In the moment, the reason seemed to matter very little; it was just a curiosity.

Christian stopped in front of Mathias, his cyan eyes nearly glowing as he looked down at the man. They were of a nearly equal height, with perhaps an inch between them; it was the look in Christian’s eyes that made the difference. Disdain, condescension, and still, yet, a touch of amusement - and a darkness as fathomless as a black hole, but that spoke of malevolence, such that one could almost see what Christian was seeing then: a man writhing on the floor as he slowly lost motor control over his extremities, crawling up through his body, leeching his mind, with no sign of a cause, and no hope of survival. That hard expression remained on Christian’s face long enough for Mathias to “get the picture,” before Christian blinked slowly and the expression changed from malicious to merely impassive.

He had already run through all of his options; he was merely satisfying the darkness by toying with different ways to dispose of this nuisance. There was no true recourse for him, he well understood, but to accept Mathias’ offer. It would shame him personally, but it would spare Ark the stain of having an uncooperative CEO. Being arrested in the first place would be headache enough, but putting up a resistance, he imagined, would be worse; photos and videos of him being handcuffed against the side of a wailing police car all over the media and the Internet. He could do without that.

His lips made an upturn into a quiet chuckle. It was funny, really; he had leaked the information in order to save the country, and now he was enduring the disgrace of surrender to save Ark. He had won the cholera battle - with little recognition for it - but lost everything else.

Abruptly, he turned away from Mathias and made his way around the living room. He knew he would not be allowed to access his bedroom, so he did the best he could with what was available; he plucked a coat from off a rack and shrugged into it, and a small MP3 player, a cell phone, and a charging cable went into his pockets along with his wallet and keys. He knew how the process went; despite any control Mathias might try to gain over Christian’s items, Christian knew that he would not have to give up his personal effects until they arrived at the precinct. He would deal with that problem there.

Without waiting for Mathias, he clicked off the living room light and proceeded through the front door, now hesitating only to allow Mathias through the door before he locked it. He maintained his silence; aside from welcoming Mathias into his home and offering him a drink, he had said nothing during the encounter. That left Mathias nothing to work with; that, Christian knew, would be his one saving grace.

[Helena Rahal]

The angel was cast down from Heaven
As the deeds were shown for what they were
Cast in chain and iron
The angel was forced to face the darkness of his making

There was no choice really, not if Christian wanted to be a free man at any point in the foreseeable future. Christian was going to have to surrender to his custody and endure the interrogation that Mathias had planned for him. Mathias was even inclined to let Christian walk away from the entire ordeal unscathed, provided Christian gave Mathias the answers that he was seeking in his investigation. Yet there was a moments glance from Christian to Mathias that showed a wickedness in Christian that Mathias had not known to exist in the man.

That look spooked Mathias, even as he remained stern in his expression. How could a man at the top of a company like Ark harbor such a wickedness within him and gotten to that position? The surveillance had never suggested something dark and terrible within this man but that stare had all the makings of it. Perhaps it would be better for him to spend time behind bars after all, if there was such a monster brewing beneath the surface of those eyes.

It passed as quickly as it had been there but Mathias knew that it was not by accident that Christian had cast that gaze as he proceeded to gather what belongings he could. This was a wounded animal being backed into a corner, a great cat attempting to fight off the tamer. Every move from the beast was a calculated one, to show that it still had teeth and claws sharp enough to rip flesh from bone.

Once Christian collected his belongings and prepped what he could of his house for his absence, Mathias followed. Christian was moving without him and Mathias was fine with that, there was nowhere for him to go, nowhere to run to. "Target is confiscated, return to the van." He called into his chip and let the contingency know to return. "I wouldn't get too comfortable Mr. Moynahan, we have a plane to catch." Mathias said as he guided his prisoner to their van and waited on the others. This case was too large to be handled at the local facilities, Christian would be making a red eye cross country flight to D.C.

FIN