SG: Mason's Mazin' Mob #14 -- Twisted Reflections #3

Tue Sep 7 20:03:39 PDT 2004

	Limbo.
	There's not really much to say about limbo, is there? I mean, it's
limbo. There's, like, nothing there, dude. It's a half-place, a place
that exists and doesn't exist, where, so some religions state, people
who haven't been particularly bad, or particularly good, or
particularly anything go when they die.
	But those aren't the only residents of limbo. There are other, more
esoteric residents. Take, for example, the people in this nonexistant
hotel room. People who, some say, don't really exist. But others say
everything exists somewhere, so why not accept, for the moment, that
these people do.
	The door to said room slammed open as Roger rushed into the room.
"Guys! We've been renewed!"
	This announcement was met by stunning apathy as some people looked up
at Roger, rolled their eyes, and went back to what they were doing.
Maria didn't even bother doing that much, continuing on her knitting.
"Knit one, perl two. Knit one, perl two..."
	"Isn't it pearl two?" Mason said, glancing over from his computer.
	"Who cares?"
	"Point taken."
	"Guys? Didn't you hear me? We've been renewed?"
	Charlie sighed and rolled over so that he was facing away from Roger.
"Won't somebody shut him up?"
	Tim and Samantha glanced at each other. Samatha shrugged after a
moment and turned to Roger. "Let me guess. You spoke to the Author,
and he said he's really excited and going to start working on the
series any day now, so that he can finish up the current arc and move
on from a totally depressing arc to something even more depressing,
shocking and likely to make his tens of Readers think he's mad,
right?"
	"Er..." Roger erred. "Yes?"
	"And exactly how many times have you had this conversation with him, now?"
	"Um..."
	"Eighteen," Alice offered helpfully.
	"Thank you, Mo. Eighteen times, Roger. Face it," Samantha continued,
looking exasperated. "He's never going to actually start the next
episode."
	"He will, too!"
	Burt rolled his eyes, shook his head, and turned his attention back
to the newspaper.
	"Really!"
	Maria looked up from her knitting. "Well, I for one am glad he's not
really working on it. I mean, you saw what happened to me the last
episode, didn't you? Man, I do *not* want to pick up from there."
	"He's going to pick up. I just know it!"
	Thomas looked over from his chess game with Rush, sighed, and looked
back to the game. "Can you believe that kid? Me, I won't believe it
until I see the credits roll."

***

                 Mason Kramer Proudly Presents:
                       Mason's Mazin' Mob!
                               in
                  Twisted Reflections Part III
                               or
                         Innocence Lost
                               by
                       *THE* Mason Kramer
                        masonlk at gmail.com
                        Comments Welcome

Continuity Note:
	Okay, okay, I know what you're thinking. It's been a few months since
the "revitalization of the Mob," so to speak, and you expected
something a little more timely. Well, so did I. I didn't *expect* to
go to the hospital three times, or move back to Texas, or search for a
job, or collaborate with Robotech Master on *his* revitalization of
Team M.E.C.H.A....
	I'll try harder. Really.

***

Continuity Note for the Continuity Note:
	Well.
	That continuity note was the last thing I wrote on this episode, and
I told myself, "Self, you know how you are about fight scenes. You
hate them. You hate writing them with a passion. Best to hold onto
this episode until you know you're going to actually get through the
fight scene."
	I liked this idea, being my own, so I put the episode aside.
	Back on June 19, 2002.
	I told you I hate fight scenes.
	Anyway, with the exception of *this* continuity note, here's how the
episode would have gone, had I, you know, actually sent it when I
should have.
	Remember. You're not paying for this.

***

	Roger closed another book. "Nothing."
	Melody sighed from her seat at the library's computer terminal. "I
keep hitting dead ends, too. Dammit, I know they want to protect the
kids that are in this sort of situation, but..."
	"But it's a totally different thing when it's your kid," Roger
finished, nodding. "Maybe Jenny's having better luck."
	"That's your computer expert?"
	"Yes, that's exactly what she is," Roger said, hiding a smile. "She's
the best, but being careful means taking her time."
	"Should you give her another call?"
	"Nah. If she finds anything, she'll let me know, and not one moment before."
	Melody nodded, sighing again. "I just feel so... helpless. I don't
like that feeling."
	Roger started to answer that when someone spoke up behind him. "Mebbe
I can help."
	They turned to regard the stranger. He was tall and wore a long
trenchcoat. There was a fedora cocked jauntily on his head, and his
eyes were covered by dark wrap-around sunglasses. If there was a more
suspicious-looking character in the library, Roger couldn't believe
it.
	Roger was the first to recover from the mild shock of conversation
interruption and asked, "Who are you?"
	"I'm called Cuisinart. Art t' my friends. Not, an' I have t'
emphasize this, Queasy."
	Roger nodded slowly. A long day was just going to be getting longer, it seemed.
***
	Thomas cursed mildly as the phone rang, but the girl sleeping nearby
didn't even stir. He picked up the handset and quietly said, "wait,"
got up carefully and took the handset into the bathroom. He closed the
door, then lifted the phone to his ear again. "Yes?"
	"Report," came the reply in a rich baritone.
	Thomas rolled his eyes but kept any frustration out of his voice.
"I've only been working on her for a few hours. You're going to have
to give me more time."
	"Time is a luxury we don't have, Sensation. Your powers will last you
a day or three longer at the most without the booster, and if you
can't deliver..."
	"Then no booster. I'm aware of that, sir."
	"Good. Then can you?"
	"I can get the information you wanted, yes. I'm just not sure about--"
	"Well, then you'd better make sure, hadn't you?"
	"...yes, sir."
	"Now _that's_ what I like to hear from my minions. I'll meet you tonight."
	"Of course, sir."
	"Good talking with you, Sensation. Have a pleasant day."
	Thomas said goodbye to the dialtone. Apparently he wasn't worth
waiting for when it came to goodbyes. He hoped that wasn't a sign of
things to come. He washed his hands, then went back into the bedroom,
where he noticed that Maria was just starting to wake up, the sunlight
glinting off her skin in interesting ways.
	He smiled a little as she opened her eyes, looking around blearily.
She was confused about where she was for a moment, then blushed as the
events of the evening before rushed back to her. Well, she didn't
blush in such a way as one could see, but her embarassment was still
obvious.
	"Morning, beautiful. How do you feel?"
	"I don't feel anyooooOOOOooohhh..." Maria trailed off into a moan as
the feeling of a thousand thousand fingers massaging and caressing
blossomed all over her body, concentrating on her most intimate areas.
	If nothing else, Thomas reasoned, he'd have the memory of her
expression to take with him when he was finished with her.

***

	"So, Cuisinart..."
	"You'd like t' know how I know you, an' what you're up to, an' how I
can help, an' you're not sure if you can trust me."
	Roger nodded at each point, with Melody nodding counterpoint. "That's
it in a nutshell. Why should we trust you?"
	Cuisinart looked at the two for a long moment. He could just tell
them the truth, of course, but he wasn't sure if that would be the
best route to take. Melody in particular would find it hard to take,
but maybe...
	"Mmm... I'll tell y' what. If I can convince Mr. Nobody here t' trust
me, would that be enough for you, Ma'am?"
	It was Melody's turn to look thoughtful. Finally she nodded. "Okay.
Roger, be _damned_ sure, though, okay? This is my son we're talking
about."
	Cuisinart hid a small smile at that as he rose to talk with Roger a
bit away. Melody figited, toying with the cable between the keyboard
and the computer. She nearly pulled the cable out when Roger
exclaimed, "What?" on the other side o the library. A moment later,
after placating the librarians, the two men returned.
	Roger looked a bit stunned still as he said, "After hearing him out,
I'm convinced that he really does have your, and your son's, best
interests at heart." Melody nodded, looking between the two. Cuisinart
looked impassively back.
	"Okay, so you're from the government and you're here to help," Melody
quipped. "How can you help?"
	"Oh, that's th' easy part. I know where he is."

***

	It was almost pathetic how easily it had gone.
	Within an hour of waking up, Maria called Stately Ward Manor and told
Jenny that she'd spent the night at her parent's house, that she was
sorry she hadn't called before that, and that she was probably going
to stay there a couple more nights. Thomas hadn't even had to force
her, just suggest that they might worry if they knew where she really
was and what she was doing. She actually giggled, feeling naughty.
	Then the real work began.
	Two hours later, she was telling him everything he wanted to know.
She'd learned that wrong answers were painful, that trying to leave
was moreso, and trying to attack him was excruciting. She'd learned
that right answers were actively pleasurable, and the more she
answered in a row, the more pleasure she felt with each answer. By the
time he finished this stage of her conditioning, she wasn't even
thinking about what she was saying, just answering as quickly and
accurately as she could.
	Thomas dutifully wrote down the answers. It was really amazing what
one could learn with the proper inducement. Secret identities,
weaknesses, drink preferences, all the things that only an intimate
companion should know about her teammates were becoming his. And, of
course, his boss's.
	Finally, he'd drained her of as much information as he was going to
get, at least for the moment. The next stage, he expected, would be
harder, and was the one that his boss considered the most critical. If
he could pull it off, he'd be able to keep the powers he'd gained.
Otherwise...
	Well, why dwell on the otherwise?

***

	Alice grinned. The trap was set, all that was required was for Tim to
come through the doo--
	"Waiting for something?"
	Alice jumped. There weren't many people that could sneak up behind
her, but Tim was at the top of that list. But how did he--
	"You've been planning that bucket over the door trick all day long.
I'm disappointed that you actually decided to carry through with it,
though. What if someone else had come through that door?"
	"Then I would have caught the bucket... But how did you know I was
planning that?"
	"Hey, I _am_ a telepath, as you're so fond of pointing out," he said.
"When you think about me as loudly as you sometimes do, I pick up on
it. No, I wasn't spying," he said to forestall her questioning, "but
even if I was, what you were planning wasn't exactly nice either. Why
a bucket full of pepper?"
	"Water's overdone."
	"Right. Look, Alice, I can't help the fact that you don't like me if
I haven't done anything to deserve it. Why don't you tell me what it
is that I've done and I can try to fix it?"
	"I... you haven't done anything, okay? I just don't like telepaths."
	"Why not?"
	Alice looked at Tim for a long moment, then shrugged. "It's a long
story. Short form is, I was hurt by a telepath when I was younger,
okay?"
	"No, that's not okay. It's not okay that he did that, and it's not
okay that you blame all telepaths for what happened."
	"You're right, it isn't." She sighed. "I'll try to cut you some slack, okay?"
	"I'd appreciate it. And if you ever want to talk about it..."
	"You're on the list of people I'll talk with, promise."
	Tim smiled. "Great. Now, why don't you put that pepper away before--"
	Charlie flew through the door, blasting pepper through the room. It
was five minutes before Alice and Tim could stop sneezing and start to
clean up.

***

	Thomas's expectations had been off a bit. Getting her to swear to do
anything he said to do had been easy, of course, but actually getting
her to do so took no more effort than that. Getting her to break into
the museum, steal a single diamond and return without getting caught
was something he'd expected would take weeks of hard work--weeks he
didn't have. There was really just one test of loyalty left... well,
two, really, but he was unconcerned about the first.
	"Well, what are you waiting for, beautiful? Get dressed." He smiled
slightly, watching the girl hesitate, then start moving quickly at the
barest sensation of sandpaper against sensitive skin. It was a shame,
of course--the silvery maiden was lovely unclad. Still, it was time
for her to find out who she was now working for, and appearances
needed to be kept up.
	It took Maria a few tries to get the combination bustier/corset to
settle properly on her, since it didn't actually contact her skin, but
the matching black leather thong was a relative cinch. The spike heals
in her thigh-high boots took a bit of getting used to for her, and he
decided that she'd be getting some more practice walking and running
before tonight's fun. The whip, of course, there was no real time for
her to learn how to use, but it was just there for show anyway. The
crowning touch, a domino mask, was _probably_ not going to actually
invoke the mask principle--after all, how many silver-skinned people
are there in the world--but was necessary for the dramatic flare.
	"Perfect, my love," he said, sending her waves of pleasure, enough to
have her trembling in her boots. "Now, your hair... piled up, I think,
with a couple of hairpins to hold it in place?"
	Maria nodded and tried to comply, but it was useless. Her hair didn't
want to stay up, and no mere hairpin was going to stop an unstoppable
force. "Nevermind, Mirror Maid. Mmmm... Which reminds me. I don't
think that name is appropriate anymore, do you?"
	Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to protest that it was the
name she'd chosen and was comfortable with, but snapped it shut at a
light touch of his power, wincing. "No... not appropriate..."
	"That's my girl. Hmm. You used to call yourself Reflective Lass, yes?
Even less appropriate now, because you're hardly a lass anymore,
but... there's something to it. Reflective... no. Just Reflects.
That's what you do, after all. You reflect things. How does that
sound?"
	"I... like it?" she asked hopefully, and was rewarded with another
rush of pleasure. "Yes... I like it."
	"Good girl. Now, let's go introduce you to your boss, shall we?"
	"Oh, we've already met," came the smooth tones from the door, "though
I doubt she'll recognize me out of--"
	"You!"
	"Okay, maybe she'll recognize me out of costume. I keep forgetting,
the Teen Team actually figured out my secret identity. I was the first
villain they fought as a unit, you know. Not that I'm a villain, of
course."
	"Of course not, Mr. Limbaugh," Thomas said with all the irony he could muster.
	"Now, now. We're working, and not in radio. That's Random Encounters to you."

***