Wrath and Love

Wrath and Love: Chapter Three

Pepito wiped his still warm hands together as he took his leave of the newly promoted Commandant Rayer and made his way through the reinforced concrete halls of the prison to the medical ward with confidence that the man that he had just personally given the position would do the job properly, especially considering that the guard had been witness to what happens to those who do not. He was directed by fawning nurses at the main desk to one of the private rooms, which were usually used for very serious cases or security risks. He knocked briefly, but opened the door before anyone could voice so much as a “come in”.

A surprised doctor looked up from her patient, to the President, then quickly to the floor where his adviser lay in an unconscious heap. “M-mr. President. I am so sorry, but he” she gestured to Karl, “the patient went into fight or flight mode, he needed to be tranquilized, but Mr. Rove panicked.”

“So you shot him with the tranquilizer too?” A small, rare smile threatened at the corners of his lips as he eyed the swollen puncture wound on Karl's neck.

“Well, I ...Yes. I had to. He wasn't letting me do my job, and the patient was endangering himself and us as well.”

“Doctor, do you know who this man is?” He gestured to Todd, who at least looked more at peace now that he was unconscious.

Her face hardened, amber eyes meeting fiery red, not sure if that question contained trickery. “With all due respect, Sir, I don't give a damn who he is. When he is in my ward, he is my patient and he will get the treatment that he needs. You have my allegiance, Your Highness,” she held up her right hand, removing the latex glove to expose a circle of three sixes, “but my first oath was not to you.”

A dark brow creased slightly and Pepito stepped forward, taking the hand into his own. A finger traced her mark. “This isn't the mark that we give to the masses. You're initiated.” He took the hand into his own, palms touching, and their marks lined up, energy signatures a perfect match, meaning her mark could be traced back to him.

“Yes. For years now.” Her other hand brushed light brown hair from her pale face. “You think Jay's the Christ?”

“Who?”

“Jay. You know, the patient. You asked if I know who he is. He comes here a few times a month, when the injuries are bad enough. So, you think he's the one?”

“Oh. His name is Todd. And no, I don't think so.”

“But you still need to be sure?”

Pepito finally stepped back from her personal space, releasing her hand on the way. “I...suppose. Tell me, Doctor, how would you like a promotion?” He chuckled briefly at the fear that flashed in her eyes. Apparently news of the form that the late Commandant's promotion had taken had spread fast. Good. “I need a personal doctor that I can trust for those in Todd's position. What do you say?”

Her face flooded with relief and she gave him a nervous smile. “I...I'd love too. I am honored, President Diablo.” Their hands met once again to seal the deal.

“Oh, I should probably get your name.” This time he did smile.

“Doctor Marla Zinger, at your service, Sir.”

“Great. Well, Marla Zinger, how would you like to meet my mother?” It had been months since his last visit to his Southern California Mansion, which was governed largely my his mother. He had mixed feelings about paying the still Christian woman a visit so soon after that package, but Todd would probably be more comfortable there, and with his mother's presence, than in New York.


The President spent most of the short plane trip in telemeetings with several important people that he was supposed to have met with in person that day. Karl had woken up toward the end, apparently having received a smaller dose of sedative than Todd when he had been stabbed. The thought had still made him force back laughter even as they were making their way up the stairs to one of his many homes and with Karl shooting him frustrated glares.

But there was nothing to laugh about now. He had had Todd placed in the bedroom in his own quarters upstairs to better keep an eye on him without having to go downstairs to the second floor, where the guest quarters where, every thirty minutes. Marla was currently busy checking the conditions of the prisoners that were kept in the dungeon out back, so with Todd still unconscious, he was practically alone with his mother, who was giving him a rather unpleasant look from across the bed.

He shifted uncomfortably in a leather chair that had been placed beside the bed, sitting his book on the nightstand to return the look. “This is not my fault, if that's what you're thinking.”

Rosemary Diablo's hands trembled as she crossed her arms over her chest, almost giving herself a hug. “Look at him, Pepito. He's your best friend.”

“No, Mother, he was my best friend...a long time ago. And his name is on the list. All he ever had to do was tell them his name.” His rebuke came out more hostile than he had intended, and he wasn't even sure if the anger was directed at his mother or Todd...or maybe both of them. In a way they had both tried to abandon him, but, of course, he was supposed to take the blame for the natural consequences of their decisions. He sighed. “Look, as much as I would like to, I can't control everything and everyone in the world. And I can't know about every single infraction of my law.”

The blond maintained her sullen stance, though her glare weaken by a small margin. She hadn't known that Todd had used an alias. It seemed like the only way she could get anything meaningful out of her son anymore was through hostile methods. “But this is what those laws produce, darling. You can't implement a system like this and not expect for people to get hurt.”

“Justifiable loses. Of course people are going to get hurt. This is a war, Mother, even if it's not a conventional one. People die in wars. Souls are twisted and warped in wars. That's just the way it is.”

“I suppose you would know that more than most.”

This time it was his own eyes that narrowed. “And what's that supposed to mean?”

Rosemary just shook her head sadly before heading for the small living room that would lead back to the main, third floor hall. “I'm going to see to dinner. I'll have some soup made for when Todd wakes up.”

“Thank you, Mother.” The comment was begrudging in light of the small argument, but his parent's training in manners was still loosely in place, even if their marriage was not. When the door to his quarters closed, he reached for his book again, just noticing that it sat beside a framed photo: the same one of Todd and himself that had been in the manila envelope that morning. So, it hadn't been the only copy. And maybe the others weren't either. His mother hadn't mentioned that she was actually moving things from the old house in. Damn. This was shaping up to be a sentimental day.

He looked back at the man before him, who was tucked into the horribly pastel comforter that matched the horrible pastel wall paper that his mother had decked out most of the estate in. He looked more Todd-like now that he was cleaner, though he could still use a proper bath. Pepito frowned, knowing that the bedding would need changing that very night. Maybe he could request a darker color.

Going back to his book, he managed to cover a few chapters before there was a rustling of covers. But when he looked up, Todd was perfectly still. He shrugged and returned to the book. More rustling! Todd had moved this time for sure, but just barely. After staring expectantly at the other for a good five minutes, Pepito's eyes wondered back to the book only to shoot back to Todd's form in hopes of catching the illusive movement. Nothing! Reading it was then.


The first thing he noticed was that it was soft. Too soft, too comfortable. That meant that he was either suffering from nerve damage or he had been moved from isolation, probably to the medical ward. But neither the prison cots nor the medical ward's beds were this comfortable. He resolved that this must be a dream. And even in that dream, he couldn't completely escape the pain that had been visited upon him this last time. But the pain was nothing. Nothing compared to...no. Best not to think of it. Dreaming was better.

His eyes hurt when he opened them, making him wish that his dreams weren't always so realistic. The light in the room was dim, but near at hand. It's source was a lamp on an extravagant nightstand, beside which a very familiar figure sat in an equally extravagant chair, face tilted down toward a thick book. He looked a lot like he had on the posters and on TV last year, only his hair was longer and tied in a short ponytail in the back. “Hi, Pepito.” He propped himself up on his elbows, despite the pain and the heavy comforter.

The Antichrist's book slammed shut as his head lifted to face the bed. Todd was awake and obviously no longer in shock. Marla had told him that would probably be the case as shock rarely lasted more than a few hours to a few days. But his voice was so casual. “Hello, Todd.”

“You look older.” Usually, when he dreamed of Pepito, they were both still teenagers or at most early college age.

“Yes, well, time tends to do that. For now anyway.” The half-demon sat his book back upon the table, sending the other a half-genuine smile. “I'm glad you're finally awake.”

“Am I?” The pain came again when Todd's eyes widened in surprise. Could it really be? But how- A sudden flash of memory cut that thought off. “Oh.”

Pepito ignored the tiny stab of pain that he shouldn't have felt when Todd's voice turned instantly colder as he realized this was indeed real. “Yes. And I have some questions for you, if you're feeling up to them.”

Every muscle in Todd's body tensed, making him acutely aware of his, now dressed, injuries and just how they had gotten there. He fought back an urgent need to throw up stomach bile. Dear God, this was not good!

The forced smile dropped when Todd winced, and Pepito reached for the bottles of aspirin and spring water that were waiting beside his book before standing from his chair to take a seat on the side of the bed. He rolled his eyes when the other forced himself to sit up so he could move as far back against the headboard as possible. “Doesn't that just make the pain worse?”

“Ummm...” Yes, it did, but the movement had been almost instinctual.

“I'll take that as a 'yes'. Here, take these. I know it hurts, but I don't think you need any more sedatives at the moment.”

Todd took a deep breath, forcing himself to reach out a hand for the pills. The actual hand to hand contact wasn't as bad a he had feared. “T-thanks.” He popped the pills into his mouth, which also hurt, before chasing them with several large gulps of water.

“You're welcome.” He took the bottle of water back from a pale, shaking hand, twisting the top back on with a frown. How had Todd survived at least two beatings a month in Work Camp Thirty-one if he reacted this badly every time? “Todd, no one is going to hurt you here. You're safe, okay? You're not going to be punished for your part in the breakout as long as you answer my questions.”

The man forced himself to nod. “Where is 'here'?”

“My house. Well, my new house...one of my new houses. It's in our old town. My mother is down stairs making dinner.” Technically, she was probably telling the cooks what to make, but maybe the familiar situation would help him to relax.

“Oh.” After all the time that had passed, especially the last year, that was almost surreal.

“So, about those questions. How about we start with why you didn't give the guards your real name?”

Todd looked down at the flowered comforter as a nervous heat seemed to feel his body. He knew that these questions were merely a formality, almost a courtesy. If Pepito wanted information, he could easily take it whether Todd was willing to give it or not. “Because I...I was captured with some people who didn't need the attention that telling them might have brought.”

“And who were these people?”

“Some of them were members of the Resistance. Most of them were just protesters.”

“The Resistance. What an original name. But they must have held important positions within that organization if you thought that they would have been in more trouble than you all already were. Are they still at the work camp?” He let out an angry sigh when Todd didn't respond. “ You know all I have to do to find out is make a phone call.” Or read his mind.

“Some of them. I think about ten people escaped in the breakout.” But that was only if none of them had been hunted down already. A tight knot formed in his stomach at the thought of possibly going through all of that for nothing. Or worse than nothing.

Pepito nodded at the information that he had already attained from the camp. “Who were they? The important ones, I mean. Who were they really?”

“The Resistance doesn't use real names. You know, in case of situations like this.”

“Clever. So you didn't know any of them personally? I was told that you might have healed one of the men that escaped.”

“I...I knew a few of them from before, but I won't tell you their names.” Pepito had always been able to tell when he was lying, so that was of little use now that his powers had probably grown even more. All he had left was passive resistance: the knowledge that he had not sold out completely, even if the information was stolen from him forcefully.

“Alright. You don't have to tell me. I'll find out soon enough when my people capture them anyway.” Another half-meaningful smile. Real loyalty was such a rare human quality. It, along with intelligence, was lacking in most of the nameless masses of uninitiated morons who followed him as blindly as Christians followed their lame excuse for a god. Most of those people were going to the camps when it was time for the second phase.

Todd said nothing to this, simultaneously thankful for the leeway and full of dread at what would happen to his friends if they really did get caught.

“Now, tell me about this supposed healing. The guard that I spoke with didn't actually see the event take place.”

If it was possible, Todd thought that this question might have made him even more nervous. Everyone at the camp knew that the guards sometimes took people away for acts that could be interpreted as miraculous, and that those people usually did not come back. The exact reason behind this was a well kept secret, but it wasn't difficult to guess that Pepito's Administration wanted to weed out any possible supernatural competition. “T-there isn't really much to tell. I don't know what happened. He...he was shot, and I stopped to help him get away, and it just happened.”

“You didn't do anything?” Pepito almost cringed at the note of relief in his own voice.

Todd swallowed thickly at how close Pepito was now, at how intensely he was looking into his eyes, into his soul. Any trace of a lie would be easily detected. “I...don't think I did. I wouldn't even know how to do anything like that.” It was true. What little he knew about magic was mostly things that he had learned from the very person questioning him right now.

A long, tense moment passed before Pepito finally pulled back a little, as satisfied as he was going to get with that answer. “Okay.” This time the smile was completely real, even if it was largely against his own will. “See, that wasn't so bad.”

Okay? Everything was just going to be okay now? Somehow he doubted that. “Uh, Pepito, can I ask you a question now?”

“Oh, very well.”

“What would have happened...if I had done it?”

“I don't know. Probably nothing. One isolated healing incident isn't all that big a deal.”

“Then what happens to the others? The ones that get taken away for stuff like that?”

“That's more than one question, Todd. And that information is classified.” At Todd's stricken look, Pepito sighed again. He should have know that his old friend would take such an ambiguous statement in the worst way possible. “They're relocated and tested, alright? But that's all you're getting unless you want to reconsider joining my cause.”

“Pepito, you'd better not be badgering the poor boy!” Rosemary warned as she entered without so much as a knock, more out of concern for the boy that she still considered family than out of a disregard for her real son's privacy. “He's had a tough enough time without you adding more stress, and I imagine that he's getting pretty tried of that question after all of this time.”

“I am not badgering him, Mother.” Damn! What was this, hi skool all over again? He could rule the fucking world and she would still treat him like he was incapable of dressing himself. “I was just asking him standard questions concerning his situation. And it's fine, okay? It's fine. He's not in any trouble,” he added when her face was consumed with concern. Now he remembered why he hardly ever stayed here.

Though she was highly relieved at this news, Rosemary's smile was forced. This was her son; her own child, and she wasn't even sure that he could be trusted alone with someone who used to be the center of his world. She didn't want to think about what might have happened had it not been “fine”. “Well, I just came to say that dinner is ready and ask if you're going to be coming down or having it up here. Todd, honey, do you want him to leave you alone?”

“You're trying to kick me out of my own room now?” Pepito could feel his anger starting to rise again. Did he really have to tell her exactly where her place as an unmarked, even as one who had mothered him, was again? It was getting tiring.

Todd shook his head, desperately wanting to stop this trifle before it escalated. “I...uh...no, it's okay.”

“Well, alright then. Marla and some servants will be up shortly. You feel free to call for me on the intercom if you need me.” She stepped closer, placing an wrist communicator on the bed beside him since getting up to do so was bound to be painful.

“Yes, Ms. Diablo. Thank you.” He managed a small smile before she turned to leave, once again wondering if this really was a dream after all.

End Chapter Three