"committed" By A.r. Kirby -- Episode 17: "sweet Home Montenegro"

COMMITTED by A.R. Kirby

Episode 17 Sweet Home Montenegro

I

van Mirko reached a thin arm across the sparsely furnished desk and pressed the button on the intercom.

“Gregor, get me some antibiotic cream,” he said in his native Croatian, his voice weak. “These stitches are getting infected.” He looked closely at the still-oozing gash along the back of his arm and the crisscross of stitching that closed it. It didn’t look happy. He fought a mean urge to scratch the wound, and pressed the button again. “Gregor? How about a little help in here?” Still no answer. Ivan raised his head and looked over his desk to the glass front of his cell. Gregor stood there, stock-still with his back to Ivan, ignoring the call for assistance. Ivan thought about pressing the button once more, then sighed and got up from the desk. No matter how many times he pressed the button, Ivan was certain Gregor would ignore him. He knew this because Gregor had been ignoring him for six hours a day, five days a week, for a year or so. Gregor ignored him just as Viktor, Stefan, and the rest of the guards who rotated through on their regular shifts ignored him. No matter how he tried, how he cajoled, Ivan could not get any kind of reaction from any of the guards. Once he’d even tried hurling himself at full speed against the walls of the

Committed by A.R. Kirby cell, just to see if he could get one of the guards to acknowledge his existence. It didn’t work. Ivan eventually knocked himself unconscious running into the walls, with nary a move from the guard. Ivan moved from the desk and lay down on his bed. Looking up at the ventilation ducts in the glass ceiling some 15 feet above him, Ivan supposed things could be worse. For a prison cell, the room was fairly spacious and decently appointed. Unbreakable, hermetically-sealed glass surrounded what -- in another location -- might be mistaken for a low-rent efficiency apartment. Against one wall, Ivan had a comfortable single bed, with decent sheets, pillow, quilt, and a nightstand. In the middle of the room was the desk, with writing utensils and paper. A wooden bookcase stood against the wall opposite the bed, filled with classics. A large area rug covered the floor, and a folding screen hid a toilet and sink in the back corner. The cell was well ventilated, with ducts in the ceiling keeping the room at a constant 72 degrees, and a slot next to the cell door allowed the guards to provide Ivan with three decent meals a day. “If all I had to do was do the time,” Ivan thought, “this wouldn’t be such a bad place to do it.” Unfortunately, doing the time was the least of Ivan’s worries. He’d been more guinea pig than prisoner during the past twelve months; the new stitches on his arm were just another addition to the patchwork of surgical scars that now adorned his body. He’d been prodded, probed, poked, stuck and cut open more times than he could count since he’d been in here. Ivan winced as a flash of pain hit his arm. Of course, there were many other changes to Ivan Mirko. He was hardly the rotund, ruddy-cheeked happy uncle of McKenna-Montenegro Enterprises these days; he’d lost somewhere in the neighborhood of sixty pounds, and his gray jumpsuit was now far too large for his gaunt frame. He’d lost half 2

Episode 17 of his right ear as a result of one of the experiments, and the fingers on his left hand were a twisted, gnarled mess. His legs had been broken, and his spleen punctured during his time here. A lesser man would have died months ago, but Ivan was too stubborn to give up the ghost. Even now, gazing at the ceiling, there was steel in Ivan’s eyes. He’d never been one to give up, even back in the really bad old days when the Soviets ran things. He’d seen plenty of tough times then, and somehow made it through. He’d be damned if he wouldn’t see things through now. Despite it all, Ivan Mirko was a proud man. And he was doing his best to hold on to that pride, come what may. As he had done so many times before, lying on the bed and looking blankly at the ceiling, he started the conversation with himself once again. He’d run it through his head hundreds, maybe even thousands of times during the past year. And it always began with the same question: How could things have gone so wrong? It was a foolproof plan, he thought, even for an incredibly talented fool. Christian himself could have pulled it off. So simple, yet so elegant. Christian was so eager to prove himself... it was so simple to lure him into the trap. And no one would ever know. Accidents happen, it was completely understandable, and such a shame that the heir to McKenna-Montenegro should meet such a fate the same week that his father died... Ivan chuckled to himself slightly and tried to ignore the throbbing from his arm. It went so smoothly. Konstantin did exactly as he was told. No one working below saw or heard a thing, and that fool manager at the smelter bought the story hook, line, and sinker. I was even composing the press release in my head as I drove back to the plant. Worry suddenly creased Ivan’s brow. 3

Committed by A.R. Kirby But -- but -- when I got to the plant... it couldn’t be! I saw him fall in! There was a flash -- he was incinerated! I saw Christian die! “But I didn’t die, now did I?” Startled, Ivan snapped his head around to see Christian standing next to the bed, resplendent in a finely-tailored suit. In his hand was a magazine. Ivan gathered what strength was left in his body and made a lunge for the red-haired man. He froze in midair. “Oh, silly Ivan,” Christian said as he walked around his frozen prisoner, “you just never learn, do you? How many times are you going to try this? It’s really getting old.” Christian rolled up the magazine and swatted Ivan on the head with it. “I mean, I come in here to try and have a civilized discussion, you make some kind of oafish move to kill me, I suspend you in some ridiculous position and then torture you for a bit. I’d think you’d wise up some. Face it, Ivan, you’re mine now, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” Christian sat on the edge of the bed and made a small gesture with his left hand. Ivan’s body rotated so he was facing Christian. “You son of a bitch,” the Croatian bellowed from his suspended perch, “I’ll kill you!” “That’s doubtful,” Christian said calmly, picking at his neatly-manicured fingernails. “You had your shot, and it didn’t work out. I think it’s much more likely that I’ll kill you. In fact, it’s a certainty. I’m just not finished with you yet, you hairy bastard. There will be much, much more pain and suffering before you get to shuffle off this mortal coil.” “How’s the arm?” Christian asked with sudden interest. He got up, grabbed Ivan’s forearm, and closely inspected the new 4

Episode 17 stitches before twisting Ivan’s arm severely. Ivan let out a yowl. “Tsk,” Christian said, letting go of Ivan as he did so. “Looks like it’s getting infected. I told the professor to be more careful with his hygiene. Good test subjects aren’t easy to come by, and we can’t be losing them to secondary infections after the tests. Besides, what we can learn from you is more important than ever, Ivan. Take a look.” Christian picked up the magazine from the bed and shoved the cover in Ivan’s face. It was an issue of Wired, and Ivan could see Christian on the cover, posing with one of MME’s bathroom robots. The headline declared: “Christian McKenna wants to take over the world -- Starting in your bathroom.” “You like that, Ivan?” Christian laughed. “MME is on the map! And yours truly is on the cover! We’re hot now, Ivan, really hot. These little Seamantium bathroom robots we’ve come up with are all over the world now, and more orders are coming in every day! This company is going places my father never dreamed of! It’s going places even I never dreamed it could go. But the plan is working out beautifully. And you -- you, Ivan Mirko, you stupid, stupid man -- could have been part of it.” “But you were greedy,” Christian went on, returning to his seat on the edge of the bed. “Couldn’t wait to be the big man yourself. You had it all worked out. But there was just one problem. You didn’t kill me, and you’ll pay for it for the rest of your life.” “I’ll never forget the look on your face when you got back to the plant after that day at the smelter,” Christian said. “You walked into Seamus’ office, all ready to run the show, and there I was waiting for you.” A pained look crossed Ivan’s face. He remembered the day, all right. He could never forget it. 5

Committed by A.R. Kirby “Do you remember what happened then, Ivan?” Ivan closed his eyes at the memory. It hurt even now. “Yes, Christian. I remember.” Christian jumped up from the bedside. “Don’t call me Christian, you dolt!” He hit Ivan across the face with a backhanded slap. “It’s Mister McKenna to you! Remember?” “Yes, Mister McKenna,” Ivan said quietly. “I remember.” “I don’t think you do! I think it’s time for a little reminder!” Christian waved a hand in front of his body, and Ivan’s figure followed the gesture, slamming into the far wall. Ivan felt a rib snap. It had been much the same when Ivan first returned to McKenna-Montenegro after the smelter incident. He’d walked into Seamus’ office, and there sat Christian, smiling like the cat that ate the canary. Before Ivan could say a word, Christian gestured, and Ivan flew across the room, smashing into walls and breaking bones. That was a year ago. And today was essentially a replay. Christian definitely wanted Ivan to keep this memory. Another gesture from Christian, and Ivan flew across the room again, hitting the opposite wall with such force that several of the books in the bookcase fell onto the floor. A small trickle of blood ran from the corner of Ivan’s mouth. With a third gesture, Ivan was flung against the wall once more. When he hit this time, Christian released his telekinetic hold on the man, and Ivan’s body slid down the wall into a crumpled ball on the floor. “You sorry bastard,” Christian said, standing over the heap 6

Episode 17 of once-proud flesh that was Ivan. “You never should have tried to kill me. You were good to me, but I can’t stand betrayal. And so you will live in pain for the rest of your life -- however long I decide that will be.” Christian walked over to the cell door and took a look back at his onetime mentor, still motionless on the floor. For now, I’m going to let you live, Ivan heard Christian’s voice in his head, clear and strong. Believe it or not, I need you, Ivan. I’m still experimenting with different nanoviruses, and I need more data. I’ll have the medics in here to patch you up soon. We need you healthy for the tests. I know how much you enjoy being a guinea pig. Christian knocked on the cell door. Gregor pressed a button and the hatch opened with a hiss. “Poor, stupid Ivan,” Christian said as he walked out. “I’ll have the board of directors name a wing of the Robotics Division in your memory. You’ve meant so much to this company.” Ivan heard the door seal behind Christian before he passed out.

7