Smalltime (Part Two)

As soon as Morinth said his name, I dropped my coffee mug.

The Ringer. Damn. The things I do for money. I kept thinking this over and over as I walked with Morinth down to the police precinct, not too far from my office tower. She led me deep within the station, past cells full of miscellaneous criminals without the ability to free themselves easily with their powers. Some looked like Neutral Zone-ravaged bandits, others like trained gangsters. Scum, all of them, I thought.

 The Ringer, from what Morie had told me, was no different. He was up for any job, no matter how dirty, as long as the pay was good. The reason he was in our custody was due to the events that had occurred the night before: after slaughtering a warehouse full of goons, he’d killed a pregnant woman with a shotgun. What kind of sick fuck does that?

One who’s desperate for cash, of course.

 Eventually, we came upon the interrogation rooms at the back of the station. There in the hallway stood Chris Duchachis, one of my better friends, and John Aldrich, otherwise known as Oldstrong, staring into the interrogation room that contained our special guest through the one-way window. Inside the room, Tough Customer stood by the door, his knuckles dripping with blood.

 That’s when I saw him, the Ringer, seated in a chair behind a table. I had originally expected the most intimidating person I’d ever see in my life, but instead, he looked rather tame. His face was bruised, his white shirt bloodied, I believe, from the events that led to his capture, and quite possibly more from his time spent here after his capture.

 He looked vulnerable. That’s all I really needed to know.

 Duchachis and Aldrich both greeted me with handshakes, reassuring me that I’d be paid well for what I was about to do. They both filled me in on the Ringer’s personal info: his real name, his investigative prowess, his ability to take away a person’s powers at the snap of his fingers, all that jazz. All they wanted was for me to convince him to use his powers for the greater good of the U.S., which seemed like a piece of cake, I thought. Little did I know that Elihu Ballentine was one stubborn son of a bitch.

 I walked into the interrogation room, gave a nod to Tough Customer and sat down in the chair opposite the Ringer, placing his case file down on the table. I could feel Morinth, Chris, and John stare at the both of us from the other side of the window as the Ringer looked me up and down, relaxed his shoulders, leaned back in his seat and let out a subdued laugh.

 “Huh. Is this a joke? They send a kid in to interrogate me?” He gave a slight smile, what teeth he showed stained with blood. He was still visibly in pain, of course.

 I looked at him and gave him a nervous smile. “You’re only a few years older than me, Mr. Ballentine.”

 “Well well, I wouldn’t have guessed you were a day older than twelve,” he replied, reaching into his jacket for something. I tensed up, not knowing what it was at first, but it turned out to only be a pack of cigarettes. “Got a light?” he asked.

 I don’t smoke, so I looked to Tough Customer in the corner and gave him a nod. He left the room for a second and returned with an old Zippo, with the initials “J.A.” engraved on the side. I slid the lighter to the Ringer across the table, past the ashtray that sat near the middle. He lit his cigarette calmly before sliding the lighter back over to me.

 “So who are you supposed to be, kid? Ass Nozzle, judging from the letters on your shirt?” He looked smug.

 “Aeronoia, Mr. Ballentine. Then again, I’ve been called worse, so it doesn’t matter what you say about me.” I bluffed. I was still scared of this guy, no matter how hard I tried to keep my cool. “Anyway, enough with the jokes. You know why you’re here, obviously.”

 Whatever semblance of a smile he had before disappeared from his face. He broke eye contact with me for a moment. That’s something I honestly didn’t expect; he showed obvious signs of remorse for what he’d done. Taking another drag from his cigarette, he sighed and replied, “Yeah, I know.”

 “Well, from the looks of it, you’re facing hard jail time. However, me and my friends here know that’d be a real waste of talent.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Talent, you say?” he faced down but looked up at me with incredulous, his cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. “I know of no talent, Aeronoia. All I know is that I fix problems, though it's become apparent to me that my methods don’t sit well with others.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> “No kidding,” I said. “I’m aware of at least one of my friends who wants you dead right now. Isn’t that right, Morie?”

<p class="MsoNormal"> The bulletproof glass on the one-way window cracked in the center, a sign of Morinth’s love and affection toward our guest.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Yeah, the blue dame, right? She’s a feisty one, isn’t she? That’s one hell of a dyke if I ever saw one…”

<p class="MsoNormal"> The glass cracked again, this time in a different place.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Look, Mr. Ballentine—“

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Elihu Ballentine doesn’t fucking exist anymore, Aeronoia,” the Ringer interrupted. “I lost my humanity last night. I don’t see myself getting it back. There’s no forgiveness I can get for what I’ve done.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Look, from your original statement, the pregnant woman was being controlled by her unborn child, yes? A prenatal telepath? I imagine that, in a sick and twisted sort of way, you did us all a favor—“

<p class="MsoNormal"> The Ringer stood up suddenly and slammed both his hands on the table, the cigarette falling from his mouth. “You don’t seem to understand something very crucial, Aeronoia. I killed an innocent woman. Worse yet, I killed her for money. For money!” He leaned in towards me, blood dripping from his face onto the table below, as I sat there motionless. “There is nothing I could do that makes up for that.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> Tough Customer stepped forward, ready to beat the Ringer back against the wall if he had to. That’s when the Ringer raised his hand up toward him, preparing to snap Tough Customer’s strength away in a matter of moments. Time seemed to stand still.

<p class="MsoNormal"> I had to act.

<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center">END OF PART TWO

<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center"> Smalltime written by Mister Z

<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center">CLICK HERE for PART ONE

<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center">CLICK HERE for PART THREE

<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center">CLICK HERE for PART FOUR

<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center">CLICK HERE for PART FIVE

<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center">CLICK HERE for PART SIX