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Wednesday, October 11, 2017

Vile Enos - Chapter 3 by Azriel Johnson

            The location of my lair is common knowledge to everyone.  I don’t even bother keeping important things there anymore because it gets raided regularly.
            The Brobdingnagian nodded as he rubbed each of his sore spots in turn.
            I made my way to the genius in glasses and smiled.  “Just the man I’m looking for.”
            “What do you want Enos?”
            That’s the name I currently go by.  Vile Enos.

            “Your brain,” I said.  “I’m planning something big and I need your help.  Your studies of energy perpetuation and harnessing electromagnetic fields is something I’ve pored over for the last few years.”
            “The government doesn’t seem to approve of my research.”
            “You were building a death ray.”
            “Whatever.  I don’t need a death ray from you.  I need something far more dangerous to the world.  It is bound to cause chaos, discord and general disarray.  Are you in Doctor Dynamic?”
            “If it involves change, sure.  What’s the project?”
            “I’ll tell you later.  For now, gather everyone here you trust, if anyone and make sure they are ready to move.  Our escape plan is almost ready.”
            Doctor Dynamic moved through the dispersed crowd of inmates.
            A siren rang and the guards moved us out to the yard.  HotFoot, the speedster, was bound with chains, but the guards moved him out to get some fresh air.  Flat Hat couldn’t fly without his helmet so he was neutralized by the guards’ standards.
            I made my way to HotFoot.  Quietly I instructed him to find Flat Hat’s helmet when the time was right.  I caught the Brobdingnagian’s eye and motioned to HotFoot with a sign of breaking chains.  Even Brobby understood what I meant.
            I had two more targets, one would be needed to free the other.
            Proto-Prophet was locked in the prison’s secure ward usually.  Today, of all days, he was given access to the yard, but his mental powers were blurred through injections given him daily.  I approached him taking into account his wariness.  “What do you want, Enos,” he croaked.
            I smiled.  “I want you to get better.”
            I reached my hands to Proto-Prophet.  He did not resist.  I rubbed his temples twenty times in quick succession.  I moved my hands to where his spine met the back of his head and drew my fingers up and down his neck as I dug the fingers in.  Finally I moved my fingers to either side of his jaw and pushed in.
            The final move made Proto-Prophet rise in pain, but his eyes were clear.  His emaciated frame was no doubt a secondary effect from the drug.  He used to be such a robust fellow.
            “I’m alive.  I can feel.  I’m… what do you need me to do?”
            “You’re the one with the power.  You know exactly what I want.”
            “She won’t be happy to see you.”
            “She will when we bust her out of here.”
            “I found her.”
            “Good.  Stand near the Brobdingnagian.  It’s almost time.”
            The blaring of sirens was our first indication.

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