Title: Yadda Yadda, Bang Bang

Author: Lusmeitli

Rating: PG-13 (until further notice)

Show: DA

Disclaimer: Cameron made them, no money, no cry

Genre: Action/Drama

Pairing: Yogi Bear and Betty Boo

Summary: My post-FN version, so to speak. It picks up right where FN left us hanging.

 

A/N: Long time, no update. This story was on a very long hiatus, which is officially over now. That doesn’t mean you’ll now get a weekly update though. ;) But I got the story back on track.

 

I’d like to thank Roon, Goblie and Shallowness for their wonderful (purely unintentional but invaluable) input from many discussions and lj-entries. Thank you BHG for being the one that kicked my ass to do this.

 

Any idiocies are mine.

 

A/N2: The “preview“-format is used by kind permission of Heather.

 

 

 

Chapter IV

 

 

“ALEC!”

 

Max shot up, her eyes opening in shock, but she closed them immediately with a moan, for the bright light stung. She sank back onto the bed, because she had a killer headache. What the hell had happened? Where was she? What was she doing lying in bed? Why did her head hurt?

 

“Max?” A distant voice called her.

 

She opened her eyes again, carefully this time. Her vision was blurry at first. A face appeared before her. Red hair, freckles –  Pillow! She was in the infirmary. But why…?

 

Suddenly, memory rushed back to her. The crossroads, Alec on the bike, the accident, Alec being thrown through the air, Alec landing on a car, Alec’s broken neck. She shot up again, ignoring the throbbing pain in her head.

 

“Alec? Where’s Alec?” she asked almost hysterically, her hands grabbing the collar of Pillar’s shirt. “Tell me!”

 

“Whoa, whoa, calm down, Max!” Pillow forced her back onto the bed. “Relax. Alec will be here in a moment. We called him after you collapsed.”

 

Max didn’t understand anything anymore. It was as if she were in a bad film. Alec coming soon? But hadn’t she just watched him… die?

 

Pillow warily watched an obviously terribly shaken Max. She pulled up a chair and sat down next to the bed.

 

“Max, what do you remember?”

 

Max’ head was spinning. She had to concentrate hard to answer Pillow’s question, to even understand it. Which confused her. Concentration problems had never bugged her, except for when Manticore had “worked“ on her and used strong drugs to keep her down. And… what was the question again?

 

“Max? What do you remember?” Pillow repeated upon seeing Max’ confusion.

 

She pressed her fingertips against her temples. “I remember walking here with Alec. I wanted to check on you and Liam.” She looked up.

 

“Then I don’t know what happened. Last thing I remember is I was standing at a crossroads and… there was Alec… on a bike. He wanted to come to me, but was hit by a car and… and…”

 

She looked at a spot on the wall behind Pillow, her lower lip slightly quivering, her eyes big and irritated as the scene replayed in her mind over and over again. The sickening sound of a breaking neck. Her next words weren’t more than a breath. “And Alec died. Right before my eyes.”

 

Pillow studied Max intently for a while. After a moment of silence, she gently took Max’ hands in hers, making her look at her.

 

“This was a dream, Max. You came here and we went over the supply list. Suddenly you fainted. You bumped your head quite a bit. We had to stitch you up. We were starting to get worried since you were out cold for quite a while. You yelled Alec’s name, so we called him.”

 

Max couldn’t believe what she heard. A dream? Alec was alive? She had only been dreaming this horrible–

 

“But it seemed so real, it was so… intense.”

 

Her eyes bore into Pillow’s, desperately wanting to believe, but yet still so shaken from how real it all had felt.

 

The redhead squeezed Max’ hands quickly. Slipping into doctor mode, she picked up the chart and started to check Max’ vitals and the reaction of her pupils again.

 

“Have you observed anything abnormal lately? I mean did you feel dizzy, have you had special medical treatment I should know of?”

 

Biting on her lower lip, Max tried to remember. “I was at Manticore for a while, but they fixed some things. At least that’s what I think. I didn’t have any seizures anymore, didn’t need Trytophan ever since I got back. Apart from that…” Max carefully shook her head. “Do you know why I fainted?”

 

Pillow stopped filling in the chart and met Max’ eyes. There was something in them Pillow had seen many times before in the battle field: fear. She lowered the chart and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

 

“To be honest, I’ve no idea. Your vitals are perfectly normal, I couldn’t detect anything in your blood. But I’d love to run a couple more tests, only we’re not equipped for them. I know it’s no consolation, but we try to do our best. Given the givens.” She checked with the chart. “When was your last heat?”

 

Max still wasn’t quite herself. “About… Well, quite some time before they took me back to Manticore. Nearly a year?”

 

“This might be a possible explanation. We ran a pregnancy test to be sure and it’s negative. I don’t know what exactly they did to you, what they ‘fixed’. But it might well be that, for some reason, possibly great mental stress, you didn’t go into heat and your hormones now are a havoc. I couldn’t run a proper test, so I don’t know if you’re actually about to go into heat right now. And since you haven’t for so long, it might be more intense, since it’s…”

 

“Pent up?“ She watched the young field surgeon nod her head. Max tried to let this information sink in. Going into heat… would be so, well, untimely. She had enough to worry about as it was.

 

“What else could it be?”

 

Pillow sat down again, looking Max straight in the eye. “I don’t know, Max. If you were a normal human being, there would be loads of reasons for you to faint: dehydration, malnutrition, low blood pressure, stress. But you’re a transgenic. It could be the retrovirus backfiring.” Pillow saw the worried look on Max’ face. “I’m used to treating bullet wounds and such. But this ain’t like anything I’ve ever seen. We’ll do our best, I promise.”

 

There was a knock at the door. Liam’s head appeared. “A-a-a-lec’s here.”

 

Pillow got up. “I’ll talk to him first. You stay here, don’t get up just yet. Liam’ll give you something against the headache.”

 

With that, she disappeared, leaving Max alone with her thoughts.

 

* * * * *

 

Alec couldn’t be more tense. His face was a mask of controlled indifference, but his eyes revealed the true depth of worry.

 

“What happened?”

 

“She was at our office, we went through some lists and suddenly she fainted. Banged her head a bit. We had to stitch her up. No concussion though.” Pillow sat down at the table and sighed, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

 

Alec sat on the edge of the desk, taking this all in. After a moment of silence he asked: “Any idea as to why?”

 

Pillow glanced from her files back to Alec and back to the papers again. There just had to be something she had overlooked. “I don’t know yet. Everything is perfectly normal, her vitals, her blood test. But to be absolutely sure, I would need to run tests we’re not equipped for.”

 

There was a short silence, before Alec got up. “There was a small hospital in TC before the spill. Maybe Liam can go with some guys and see what you can use. If something’s missing let me know. We’ll get you equipped as soon as possible, there‘ve been lots of labs around here.”

 

Pillow nodded. “I’m not asking for high-tech. Just some basic lab stuff.“

 

She watched as Alec fished his mobile out, speed-dialled and organised for some people to pick up Liam and to help him get the equipment. He snapped his phone shut.

 

“They‘ll be here in ten.” With that he got up and turned for the door.

 

Pillow’s voice stopped him. “Alec?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

She was quite embarrassed to suggest this. After all, she was a field surgeon. She was good with battle injuries, but nothing more. “I don’t know, but maybe… it has something to do with the runes? That or the retrovirus.”

 

Alec gave her a pensive look and then turned, his hand reaching for the doorknob to Max’ room.

 

“One more thing before you go in.”

 

He looked back over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised quizzically.

 

“She believed you’re dead.”

 

“Huh?” His hand dropped from the knob to his side. Turning, he stared at the field surgeon in disbelief.

 

“She dreamt you were killed in a car accident right in front of her eyes. She thought it was real. I’m quite worried about her. She was totally out of it. Still’s very irritated. Just… be careful.” Pillow checked the chart in her hands again.

 

Alec swallowed, trying to take this information in and make sense of it. He nodded and turned around again.

 

“Oh, and Alec, after your visit, let me check on that bullet hole.”

 

His head shot around. “Which bullet hole?” he asked genuinely irritated.

 

Ever so slightly, she patted his upper left arm. “That one.”

 

* * * * *

 

Evy didn’t exactly feel comfortable with what she was doing. And on a rational day, she probably would have scolded herself for letting her emotions take over like this. But this was not a rational day. It was a state of emergency.

 

After Sheila’s call, she had been so enraged and furious, determined to do whatever it took to protect her children from those… transgenics. At the meeting, she had met other furious, enraged people. And it had fuelled her anger further. Her hatred. She could feel it. And there had been a short moment when she felt like she was stepping out of her body and watched herself shout all the paroles, her fist angrily shooting up in the air. Agreeing wholeheartedly that justice and peace only could be brought on by them and not politicians, the military or the police. And for a moment she hadn’t recognised herself anymore. But that moment passed quickly.

 

But ever since the meeting, they had started to turn it all into action. Before it had just been talk. Now, there were guns in front of them. All sorts of calibres. All sorts of ammunition. Bullets. Things she had always tried to protect her children from. Guns to her represented the will to kill. Accepting the fact that someone could die from her hand weighed much heavier on her than she thought it would only a couple of hours ago. When it had all just been words, no deeds.

 

“We’ll take justice into our own hands.”

 

It had sounded all quite simple and easy when she had listened to the speakers. Go and get rid of the bad guys. Kill them if need be. Actually, they had encouraged killing. It had all seemed so feasible. Like the most natural thing in the world to do. The only thing to do. As if there was no choice.

 

Now, however, Evy wasn’t so sure anymore. What would her children think? She had always taught them that two wrongs don’t make a right. Wasn’t she doing exactly this now? Her morals and ethics once had all been in place. She had known what was right and what was wrong. But now… Her world had shifted out of place.

 

Evy looked up and met Sheila’s eyes. Her friend flashed her a reassuring smile. How could Sheila be so sure that what they were doing was right? How did she know her children wouldn’t hate her in a couple of years’ time? But then, maybe Evy’s kids wouldn’t be there in a couple of years to hate her if she didn’t do this right now. She rather have her kids hate her than being murdered by a transgenic.

 

She pressed her lips to a thin line and determinately took the gun in her hands. When she felt the cold metal on her warm skin, she shuddered slightly. The touch of kill.

 

“May my children forgive me,” she whispered.

 

* * * * *

 

The phone was picked up after the first ring. “Oui?”

 

“It’s me.”

 

The silence on the other end encouraged to talk.

 

“I found it.”

 

“Bring it to me.” Clearly the accent of someone who hadn’t talked English for a while.

 

“That’s going to be difficult, sir. This ain’t working as we thought. We need a new plan.”

 

Another silence.

 

“Preserve it then. Until we’ve come up with another plan.”

 

* * * * *

 

Alec pushed the door open and entered Max’ room. She lay in bed, looking very small and pale. Her eyes were closed, but they snapped open when he approached the bed. Before he knew what happened, she flung herself out of bed and around his neck, whispering something into his chest he didn’t quite understand.

 

He gently grabbed her by her arms and pushed her away from him. That was when he saw a sole tear trickling down her face and he finally understood what she was saying.

 

“You’re alive.”

 

Over and over she repeated it whilst gripping his jacket hard, scanning his face as if she wanted to imprint every detail of it to her memory. Max needed to hear her own voice formulating the words. She needed to hear them, see him, feel him, to believe they were true. And oh, how relief washed through her, gut-wrenching relief. She thought she had lost him for real and whilst she clung to his jacket, she made promises to herself she knew she would never keep. She’d never scold him anymore, she wouldn’t take him for granted ever again, and so much more. Alec couldn’t leave her. He was too important to TC, to all of them – to her. She needed him there, needed him to support her. Without him… it wouldn’t be worth it.

 

Alec felt more and more uncomfortable. Her behaviour worried him. Her dream must have been very intense. Gently, but decidedly, he guided her back to the bed and made her sit down. Max’ fingers still clung to his jacket, so he was forced to sit down next to her. The silence weighed heavily on Alec’s chest. Never before had he seen Max like this, never before had anyone displayed such… could it be concern? for him. He didn’t quite know how to handle this, which made him feel even more uncomfortable, so he tried to lighten the mood.

 

“Max, don’t you know tears ruin leather?”

 

What had been intended as a joke, made her tears fall even faster. She still clung to his jacket.

 

Alec watched as Max’ head rested against his chest. She seemed to be seriously troubled. He put his hands on her back, resting his chin on her head, slowly rocking her back and forth.

 

They stayed like that for a moment, until Max spoke up.

 

“It was so intense, so real…” She sat up straight and searched his eyes. “What’s going on with me?”

 

Alec met her gaze. He saw how this was freaking her out. Hell, it freaked him out. “We’ll find out.”

 

* * * * *

 

“Hey! No biking in here!“ Normal shouted after one of his employees. “And you, missy! That package won’t grow feet. I don’t pay you to watch TV all day, get your behind on a bike and deliver the package or you‘re fired, bip, bip!”

 

Normal stopped before a tall blonde, snipping his fingers in front of her eyes. She completely ignored him and kept on staring at the television screen.

 

“Hey, you on drugs? If you’re doing drugs during work time, you’re fi–”

 

The blonde’s hand shot up and stopped him. She motioned to the screen.

 

Normal finally turned to face it too, a grumpy comment on his lips, when he froze.

 

“Sketchy?” A smile played on his lips.

 

* * * * *

 

Clemente sat back in his chair, a hand covering his eyes. Right now, he felt very old and tired. Vacations in that little hut by Bonney Lake his wife kept pestering him about suddenly sounded very appealing. Why was it again he wanted to become a cop in the first place?

 

He opened his eyes and they fell right onto an old photograph on the wall. Right. That was the reason. His dad. His personal hero. Clemente remembered how enthusiastic he had been when he had graduated from Police Academy. He had been full of illusions. But reality had made sure to crush even the last of them. He had to learn that justice could have a very stretchable meaning. He had to learn that there were other rules to follow. People who could bend the law. People such as politics. The citizens had no idea just how much influence politics had on the police.

 

Politicians decided how to proceed in delicate situations. Whether or not to shoot the bad guy. Which mostly resulted in endless hours of waiting and a bloodbath. The bad guy usually would pull the trigger before they had admission from above to do anything. However in the aftermath, those responsible were always quick to blame someone else, if anything went wrong. But the people on the streets didn’t see behind it all. They just saw the police pulling the trigger.

 

And he couldn’t blame them for not seeing the truth. How could they if no one was there to tell them the truth? Everything was manipulated and carefully arranged. Tactics to buy people’s votes. Money outweighed the worth of a life. It made him sick.

 

He wished, he could just up and leave this all behind, quit this job. But he couldn’t. Not now. He knew it was silly, but he had this feeling that he was here for a purpose. His place was here. The transgenics would need him. And, boy, he supported them more minute by minute.

 

His eyes fell onto the report in front of him. Webber had told him what she had found out. And he was pretty scared of it. And he felt stupid, because despite his years of experience, he had completely underestimated this situation. But then… how could he possibly have foreseen this? How was he supposed to handle this? Webber’s words still spun around in his mind.

 

“I’m not sure what exactly we’re dealing with here, sir. Whatever it is, it is bigger than everything we‘ve ever come across before. Much bigger.”

 

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

 

“Come in.”

 

Watson entered, a worried look on his face. “Sir, I’ve just heard from our undercover agent. He was at the meeting. Approximately four hundred people.”

 

“I suppose they fuelled the fire, didn’t they?”

 

Clemente’s assistant quickly bit his lip before he replied. “I’m afraid so, sir. They are handing out guns now. An attack is planned for tomorrow morning. And…,” he hesitated, “about a minute ago, there was another cable hack. Obviously, the transgenics are now running their own TV channel.”

 

Watson watched as his boss let out a frustrated sigh and motioned for him to turn on the television. The assistant didn’t want to be in his boss’ shoes. He had a lot to handle right now. Very delicate stuff too.

 

“Could it get any more complicated?” Clemente’s voice sounded tired.

 

Watson didn’t answer. He knew his boss knew the answer to his own question already. It damn well could.

 

“…only free voice left in Seattle. Welcome to DNA. We’ll show you all the details the bribable media leave out for their favour. Are you ready for the truth?”

 

* * * * *

 

Ames White wasn’t furious anymore. Right now, a great sadness filled him. He had forgotten about his human side. And he damned it once again. But then… He had forgotten that there was only one person in the world that could make him actually feel.

 

His son, Ray.

 

And X-452 was the key to finding Ray again.

 

The Whisky bottle connected with the wall and scattered to pieces. Brown droplets ran down the wall and were soaked up by the carpet. But Ames didn’t feel any better.

 

He had made a mistake. A huge mistake. He should have known that Ray was too weak. He wouldn’t have survived it. He should not have let them make him undergo Initiation. He had never known any different. Until Ray. Until that bitch had taken away his son.

 

In a way, White admitted to himself, he was glad that X-452 had saved his son from their hands. Of course, he would never say that out loud and he would make quite sure he forgot about his “gratefulness” once he had emptied that glass of brown liquor in front of him. But right now, he just was and he wanted his son back. He didn’t even know exactly why.

 

The house was awfully empty and quiet without Ray. Ames could do without his wife. What had her name been anyway? Wendy, Mandy, Sandy? But he couldn’t do without Ray. All those weeks of not knowing what really had happened, whether or not his son was still alive and where he was, had made White realise something. Slowly at first and, of course, he spent quite a while in denial after that. This couldn’t possibly be.

 

He, Ames White, Special Agent in Charge, a Familiar, actually missed his son.

 

Even now, this realisation made him snort. But he knew it was true. Knew it in his heart. God, how he hated his human side. The only thing they never managed to get rid off, however they manipulated DNA: emotions. And they made him sick. But right now, he gave in into the sickness… Ray had this ability to make him forget that he was not supposed to have feelings. None at all. That he was a superior being. A Familiar. Descendant of an ancient generation, a pure heir of the world, Fenos’blah blah.

 

Suddenly, he could understand his father. It had been CJ’s life at stake then. And his father had decided to save his child. Ames had never been able to understand that. Well, not until it all had happened to him. He had loathed his father, told him he was weak, a coward, a traitor. And why? Because his father had loved CJ enough to protect him from death. He had even made CJ pay for their father’s weakness.

 

And now, what did missing his son make him? A coward? A traitor? A sissy? Or just a father who loved his son, but hadn’t noticed until it was too late?

 

The Special Agent sat up on his couch. Love? Could it be that he loved Ray? Sure, he was proud of him. As proud as he could be as a Familiar. Had been from the first day he had seen that pink, small, ugly wrinkled face of his baby boy in his wife‘s arms. To him, he had been beautiful. He remembered the days they had led a “normal” family life. Perfect cover up. After all, he had to make sure his wife bought his lies until Ray was old enough for the rite and White could get rid of her.

 

But still. He had enjoyed those days at times. Of course, Wendy, Sandy, Mandy, whatsername had made his life a little difficult at times. But there had been days when he had really enjoyed their company, even been… happy. No forced laughter. Genuine one.

 

A happy Familiar. How… yucky was that? Exactly. Familiars weren’t happy. They were grim and sinister and superior and evil and… really evil. Loving a kid didn‘t really help making one‘s enemies shiver with fright. Still, Ames had not exactly been the evillest of Familiars as rumour had it. At least not at home, with his son.

 

All memories now. Memories he stared at in the album in his hands. Pictures his wife had taken. He had never understood her urge to keep everything on camera. But then, how could anyone with a photographic memory understand this. Now, however, for this short instant when he allowed himself to be weak, he was really glad she had taken pictures.

 

Ames sighed and downed the whole content of the glass in one go.

 

“I’ll get you, X-452. And you’re going to take me to my son.” It was an oath to himself.

 

He picked up a picture of Ray and him on a sledge. He couldn’t remember where it had been taken. Whatsername’s handwriting read: “Winter holidays 2018.”

 

Only a few years ago, his life had been perfect. Now, he missed his son. And he finally admitted to himself that he loved him. Only… it didn’t make him feel any better. On the contrary. Much, much worse.

 

“I’m going to get you back, Ray. Whatever the cost,” Ames said as the glass joined the shattered bottle on the floor.

 

“Whatever the cost.”

 

The picture was torn out from the album and safely stowed in the inside pocket of his jacket.

 

* * * * *

 

Logan sat in his car, removed his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. They burned quite a bit. And it had indeed been quite a day. He had set up the TV station with Sketchy, they had cut and edited reports and viewed the material Luke had sent them. They had had the first broadcast only about three hours ago and right after that, he had rushed to a meeting with TC’s homeless people. Just outside North-eastern TC. Without the sector police or civilians around.

 

He had come in the name of Eyes Only and the talk had been rather tiresome too. After all, he had to see where the homeless people stood and what they wanted. He had a lot of convincing to do and things to discuss. But in the end, he managed to get the homeless people not exactly on the transgenics’ side, but at least they weren’t opposed to give cooperating with them a try.

 

Then he had called up Luke to report in detail how things had gone. And afterwards, he had stared through the fence at TC. He wondered how Max was doing, what she was doing. How could anyone be so far away? All he’d need to do was climb the fence, walk for five minutes and he’d be with her. Did she think of him at all? Did she long for him the way he longed for her? But Logan had scolded himself for that thought immediately. She was with Alec now.

 

Which got Logan thinking further. But if she was with Alec, then how come she held his hand when they stood on the roof, watching Josh raise the flag? After all, it was his hand, not Alec’s, she had held there, right? She had wanted him out of TC, because she was concerned for his well-being. So even if she might not love him anymore, at least she still harboured strong feelings for him. Enough to want to make her keep him safe. Everything else didn’t make sense to Logan. He sighed, exasperated.

 

Why did everything have to be so complicated? Why couldn’t it be like in the old days, when Max would do jobs for Eyes Only and afterwards he would cook something and listen to her chatter away and then they would eat? Why did things constantly have to change? Why did the retrovirus have to come between them? Ever since then… things had spiralled downwards. And Logan began to wonder when they would hit the bottom.

 

Of course, to a degree, he could understand that Max was now with Alec. He couldn’t expect her to wait for him forever, for them to find a cure to finally be together. He knew. His head knew very well. He had tried to tell it to his heart. But somehow, it just wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t comprehend.

 

*Are you really still in love with Max, or are you just in love with a dream?*

 

Logan had no idea where that had come from, but it sent him bolting up in his seat alright. No, no, stupid thought, of course he still was in love with Max! Always had been, always would be. She was his perfect match, end of story. He was just too tired, that was all. His brain was making him think things he didn’t really mean to think. Because he was tired and hadn’t slept in two entire days and had been really busy. Right.

 

Relieved, Logan breathed out. So there he was now, still in love with Max and still rubbing his eyes. They were burning like hell. He hoped their broadcast had managed to make people think, look at things a little bit more careful, question things.

 

Suddenly, his mobile rang. Logan searched his pockets, too tired to hurry, found it and checked the number. It was none he was familiar with. It probably was Max calling him from a phone he just didn’t have the number of yet.

 

*See, silly you. Of course she still has feelings for you and now she calls you.*

 

Sighing, he picked it up. “Hello?”

 

“Logan Cale?”

 

“Yes, who is it?” Logan was alarmed, a hot chill running down his spine. Something about this voice…

 

“It’s me.” The speaker paused for a moment. “Lydecker.”

 

* * * * *

 

Rickham watched the President nervously tap his pen on the table. After a few more moments, he finally spoke up.

 

“Sir? What are your orders? How shall we proceed in the Seattle situation?”

 

The President dropped the pen and let out the breath he was holding. “That’s the question, Rickham. I kept thinking about it and I re-read all the reports…” He got up from his chair, folded his arms behind his back and turned to the window.

 

“What we need is to buy time. Buy as much as we can. Do something about McKinley. Plus we need to polish up our prestige. The Senator managed to show us in a not exactly flattering light.”

 

Rickham watched as his boss went silent and stared out the window. The older man turned around and faced his spokesman.

 

“What about this Colonel… Lydecker?”

 

Rickham checked the notes in front of him. “As far as we know, there was a car accident at Seattle Harbour he was supposed to be in. Well, they fished out his car of the harbour. Funny thing is, they never found a body. So it might well be that he really is the guy who called you up.”

 

The President got impatient. “Yes, yes, I know all that. What I want to know is who the bloody hell he is that he has my direct number!”

 

The spokesman smiled warily. “Sir, I’m afraid to inform you that there are forces in this country that are much more powerful than you.”

 

The President sighed and sat back down heavily on his chair. “Don’t I know it. Anyhow…” He bent forward, meeting Rickham’s eyes. “Buy us time. I need to talk to that Lydecker and listen to what he has to say. It seems quite important. Tomorrow, you’ll go to Seattle and make a big, official fuss about the arrival. Have a nice little… media feast. Let the real task force do its work without McKinley noticing.”

 

Rickham nodded and got up. “Very well, sir.” He already was at the door, when the President called him back.

 

“Rickham.” Their eyes met. “I trust you on this. You’re my best man.” He got up and looked out the window. “Play a little with McKinley. Make him feel quite safe before we knock him off his feet. Makes victory taste so much sweeter.”

 

He turned around. The spokesman grinned in response and quietly left the Oval Office.

 

 

 

Next on “Yadda Yadda, Bang Bang“:

 

Doubt thou the stars are fire

“Why should we trust him?”

Doubt that the sun doth move

“There are two ways we can do this. Either way, you end up dead. One’s quick, the other not. Pick your choice.”

Doubt truth to be a liar

“They’re sellin’ us rottin’ lies, is what they’re doin’!”

But never doubt I love.

“Adam?”

                                                                                              Hamlet, Shakespeare