Unfinished Business part 3

Mackenzie Fellows placed the sandwich on her kitchen table: lettuce, tomato, cheese, and raw hamburger. She was going to put a few slices of deli meat on the sandwich, but was told that salts and preservatives in deli meat can be harmful in a rat’s diet. She was asked to add raw meat and obliged. Labrat happily thanked her and began eating.

Mackenzie wasn’t sure what to do. She hadn’t spoken to Ryan Bennings in years. There was no anger or resentment in their break-up but it was no less gut-wrenching due to her drug issues and miscarriage at the time. Days ago, Ryan left a message explaining that Labrat was in the hospital after an attack from Miles Cady and that he was interested in making a Brain Boy movie now that Ryan was in control of the film rights. As a director, Mackenzie was apparently the only person he trusted to make a Brain Boy movie. She didn’t want to, of course, but when Labrat showed up at her office to pitch a movie, she went along with it. She surmised that the suddenness of the visit was due to a threat. Ryan wasn’t picking up his phone, so it was likely he sent Labrat away for his own safety and her office was the first place he thought of in that moment. She had to leave her office for the night and saw no other option than to bring Labrat along with hope for Ryan’s return.

“So what would you like to see in a Brain Boy movie?” she asked.

Labrat cheerfully swallowed his bite and answered, “I wanna see me and Ryan on adventures. Maybe we can fight some supervillains. In the cartoon there was a bad guy called Booger Boy. He shot fire-boogers at people. Do you remember?”

She smiled, “I actually hated that cartoon when I was a kid.”

“But you were Ryan’s girlfriend for a long time.”

“Yeah… But it wasn’t because of the cartoon.”

He took a bite, “Why did you like him?”

She considered her answer, “He was fun. Like me, he was raised in the entertainment industry and hated it. And, even though he can be a jerk, he is a good person deep down. You just… really have to work to see it.”

“So then why did you stop being his girlfriend?” he asked innocently.

She quickly changed the subject, “But let’s talk about you. How do you see Ryan?”

“He’s my best friend. A lot of people are nice to me, but he’s the only one who takes care of me. His parents and Mr. Levison only had me around because of the cartoon. Ryan was my only friend,” he tilted his head to the side as he came to a realization, “And sometimes I think I’m Ryan’s only friend.”

****

In Belfast, three men stood on the roof of a pub. Between them was a teleporter platform with a raised console. They had just completed the first task for the villain known as Zenith, the Superior Man who wanted to prove himself against the three men who had unknowingly defeated his greatest foe. They knew there were more tests to complete, although they didn’t know the exact number. They only knew they had 24 hours.

“So you found coordinates?” Farrell Creed asked.

“Looks like it,” Ryan Bennings showed the piece of paper in his hand.

The Cavalier had a follow-up question, “Aerial or nautical?”

“See, that’s where it gets interesting because there doesn’t seem to be any latitude or longitude in this system. At least not how we know it.”

“What do you mean?”

“When it dawned on me I was looking at coordinates, I realized the geometry was all wonky. It seemed geared toward 4D space,” Ryan patted the teleporter’s console, “That’s when I realized they were made for a teleportation system.”

“So we feed the new coordinates into that thing and then what happens?” Creed asked.

“Presumably, it takes us to another location and we get our second task.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

“I’ve thought about all the possible outcomes of a teleportation gone awry and to tell ya the truth, they’re all horrifying so… maybe less questions along those lines?”

“Doesn’t sound like we have much of a choice,” Cavalier stepped onto the platform. “The sooner we get through these stupid games the better.”

“I agree,” Creed stepped up next.

“Then without further ado…”

Ryan got on last and punched in the numbers printed on the paper he found. Next, he pulled a lever and the teleporter lit up. A second later, they once again caught a glimpse of bright lights in a void and then felt solid ground below their feet.

It was dark, wherever they were. Security lights and large windows provided just enough light for them to notice the vaulted ceiling, the long hall with ornate pillars, and the marble floor with black and white tiles. Cavalier and Creed stepped off the teleporter first, their footsteps echoing off the ancient interiors. Ryan checked the clue that appeared on the console’s screen and read it aloud, “Clue #2 – Don’t be a doubting Thomas.”

“An idiom with a biblical origin,” Cavalier explained as he gazed at the religious architecture, “Fitting. We’re obviously in a cathedral or something.”

“London… Westminster Abbey to be exact,” Ryan stepped off the teleporter.

“How can you tell?” Creed asked.

He pointed to the elevated chair with a tall back and three points at the top, “Saint Edward’s Chair.”

“He’s right,” Cavalier took note of the old throne, “I recognize it from The King’s Speech. It’s kinda cool to see it in person.”

“It’s an old chair,” Creed shrugged, “What’s so special about it?”

“It’s the Coronation Chair,” Ryan explained, “Only British monarchs can sit on it… and only when they get coronated.”

“Why are they the only ones that can sit there?”

“Because they’re more important than everyone else, essentially.”

“Ya serious? Nobody else is allowed?”

“They used to let the public sit there if they paid money… but then people started vandalizing it.”

“Good for them,” Creed announced, “It’s a chair. It’s for sitt’n. Telling me I can’t sit on that thing ‘cause my daddy wasn’t king or whatever?”

“Pretty much.”

“I don’t like that.”

“It’s just a formal kinda thing,” Cavalier informed him, “Nothing personal.”

Creed shook his head, “I take it personally when someone tells me I ain’t good enough to put my ass in a seat.”

“Don’t know what else to tell ya, man.”

He scratched his beard and spoke decisively, “I’m gonna sit there.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want to at first, but now that I know I ain’t allowed, I wanna sit there.”

“Come on, man.”

“I mean, I get it,” Ryan agreed.

“Okay, whatever,” Cavalier tried to redirect them, “Let’s just talk about the next clue.”

“Lemme just pop a squat while we talk,” Creed joked as he walked toward the Coronation Chair.

“Don’t sit there. Just let it go.”

“Afraid I can’t do that.”

“Wait, Creed,” Ryan called out, giving him pause.

“Thanks, Ryan,” Cavalier told him, hoping the matter was settled.

Ryan rubbed his chin, his gaze fixated on the chair, “If you’re gonna sit on that thing, it has to be done the right way. You have to do it bare-assed.”

“What?” Cavalier yelled.

Creed smiled in excitement, “Hey, man. You’re right!”

Cavalier turned to Ryan, “I know you’re just mocking him.”

“I’m not,” he said defensively, “Creed and I may have our differences but I support him in this endeavour.”

Creed gave an approving nod, “Appreciate it.”

“You guys can’t be serious,” Cavalier said, defeated.

“See, that’s your problem, Cav,” Creed told him sincerely, “You always go along with what they tell ya.”

“It’s a damn chair!”

“If it’s just a chair, it shouldn’t bother ya.”

“It’s an important piece of culture and history.”

“But it’s stupid.”

Ryan nodded, “He’s got a point. It is stupid.”

“I can’t believe we’re debating this,” Cavalier shook his head.

“It’s the principle of the thing.”

“Exactly!” Creed agreed.

“And I’m gonna sit in the chair after he’s finished,” Ryan added.

“What?”

Ryan strode toward the Coronation Chair, “Gentlemen, I’m humble enough to stand before you this day and declare that I’ve never known a desire stronger than to plant my bare ass on a 900-year old wooden chair.”

“Hell yeah,” Creed pumped his fist in excitement.

Cavalier grabbed both men by their arms and pulled them away, “You’re both children. No one’s putting their ass on anything. Come on.”

They moved to the northern part of the abbey. Ryan produced a spherical drone from his jacket and let it hover in front of them, shining a light along the path. Soon, they came to an altar with buttresses and arcades rising up and wrapping around a large rose window depicting the twelve disciples of Jesus Chrst. “The original Cavalier was stationed in London as a soldier during the Blitzkrieg,” Cavalier explained, “He saw this abbey, according to… later Cavaliers. I heard there was a big window showing Christ and the disciples.”

“Doubting Thomas,” Creed echoed and then began searching the room.

“I thought it was worth a shot,” Cavalier explained and looked up at the large, circular window, “We just gotta find out which one of those guys is Thomas. The central figure is obviously Jesus, but this thing shows sixteen figures.”

“I’m guessing Judas isn’t depicted here,” Ryan’s eyes searched around the window, “That means we have four extra guys.”

“Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John,” Creed explained, “The four Gospel writers.”

“Impressive art history skills,” Ryan said, “How’d you learn that?”

He pointed to the signage near the door, “There’s a sign. Explains everything. Thomas is the guy holding a carpenter’s square.”

“Simple and effective,” Ryan sent his drone up to the window.

The hovering device emitted a thin stream of light, scanning the section depicting Thomas. Instantly, the drone received a set of numbers and sent them to Ryan’s wristwatch. “Success,” Ryan announced, “Seems there was a microscopic etching within the pane of glass that gave us our next location.” There was little time for a celebration – the three men heard a strange beeping sound coming from behind the nearby altar. Creed was the first to make it to the location. Peeking behind the altar, he saw a black box with a timer counting down from five minutes and a keypad below it.

“I think we got a bomb,” he called out.

“The etchings in the window likely contained a chip,” Ryan surmised as he took a look at the explosive, “Scanning the chip triggered the bomb, more than likely.”

“Okay, so we gotta defuse this thing in five minutes,” Cavalier explained, “For all we know, it could wipe out half of London.”

“Should’ve known Zenith wasn’t gonna make it that easy,” Ryan said. He knelt down, examining the keypad located below the timer, “I assume there’s a code to stop the countdown that we have to figure out.”

“Okay, so this task seems to be focusing on Saint Thomas,” Cavalier began, “The term ‘doubting Thomas’ came from the part of the Bible where Thomas didn’t believe Jesus was back from the dead until he touched his wounds. What part of the Bible was that? Maybe the code has something to do with chapter and verse numbers.”

Creed gazed up at the rose window, focusing on the Gospel writers, “Had to be one of the Gospels, right?”

“Narrows it down to four books,” Ryan responded, “Each one has several chapters and verses. We don’t have time to find a Bible and start flipping through it.”

“Zenith didn’t exactly let me keep my phone when he took me,” Creed admitted, “Can’t google it.”

“Same here,” Ryan explained. He checked the timer again. “And we only got about two minutes.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Cavalier raised his gauntlets, “Maybe we’re overthinking this. Maybe we’re being doubting Thomases.”

“How do you mean?” Ryan asked.

“Let me see the numbers your drone picked up from the window.”

Ryan sent the drone over to Cavalier as the timer continued to count down. Cavalier ran a finger along the small screen, then punched in the numbers on the keypad. Creed and Ryan could only watch and wait. The timer counted down to less than a minute. Cavalier punched in the last digit and the timer stopped with seconds to spare. The bomb was defused.

“Shit,” Cavalier sat back and let out a sigh of relief.

“Watch your language,” Ryan told him playfully, then pointed to the figure of Jesus on the window above, “God’s house.”

“Those numbers weren’t coordinates,” Creed scratched his beard curiously, “Zenith actually gave us the code to shut off the bomb. But how’d you know?”

“I didn’t doubt what was given to us,” Cavalier stood up, “Just like the clue said.”

Suddenly, a slip of paper slid out from the defused bomb. The Cavalier took it and gave it to Ryan, “I think these are the real coordinates.”

“No reason to doubt,” Ryan took the paper and they walked back to the teleporter.

Later, they stood on the platform after Ryan entered the coordinates into the console. “Two down so far,” Ryan told his companions happily, “Let’s see what lies ahead.” He pulled the lever and they all disappeared in a flash.

Continued…