in light, the general began his interrogation. Rumour and fact mixed easily,
served in a salted stein - extra spicy with a side of bitter herb.
general stared at the subject. His left leg danced up and down while his right
stood perfectly still - poised in balance. His to and fro mustache made small
maneuvers in the large scale psychological war that sent the trumpets home
the line of the father." Rodriguez answered dryly.
to conspire. Murder to doubt. Over zealous zealots zoomin' out on zeal. Whose
father's line are you towing, good sir?"
squinted beneath the harsh lights which beat alternately on him and the general,
"I don't expect you to get it, general."
general spins and fires: "Curse the day you came to this town towing
tales too tall to tell. Hitched your claw to the wrong wagon this time, Rodriguez.
Separated, sounding fine." He smiles and then laughs, backflipping toward
Rodriguez with only the power of his left leg.
was an A1 rebel. He was top of his rebellion workshop certificate course,
he was tops in the training missions over South America, and he was number
one in the field. His coup rate was incomparable. Five coup d'etats in eight
attempts in seven different countries. There had been 12 parades in his honour,
and a county fair was named after him somewhere in the Austrian Alps.
he was being interrogated by his own general.
more prime rib dinner where that came from." Rodriguez hissed. The general's
face was within a foot of his own. Only the shatter proof glass that protected
him kept Rodriguez from the hot breath of the angry general. A small patch
of fog unfurled on the bullet proof window.
had dealt with mutiny before. Despite his experience, he knew that General
Jorge would be his most dangerous challenger. He was young, arrogant and possessed
an unrivaled dexterity, despite the obvious paralysis which gripped fifty
percent of his body. And Jorge knew Rodriguez all too well. They had completed
three coups together, the last an ugly battle where Jorge lost power over
half his body, saving Rodriguez from death.
his debt paid to the leader, the general felt it was time to take the mantle.
No one can lead forever. Besides, Rodriguez had become too concerned with
his chairs. Lumbar support does not befit a rebel leader.
Jorge looked at Rodriguez and saw him recline. He scowled: "Team tiger
tam-shoot, the real mai tai fry guy is on the super sly. By and by."
old code hit Rodriguez like a blind carrier pigeon - high and out of the blue.
His nose raised, shaking his head slightly. "Perhaps the real round is
in the dog pound, doing the slidin' sound."
general raised Rodriguez from his chair by turning off the gravity in his
interrogation chamber. This was an innovation developed by Rodriguez for the
greater good of the rebel cause. Now, weightless and under the gun (forged
from his own meddle), Rodriguez needed swift action.
a man whose entire right side was paralyzed, the general had some major moves.
But Rodriguez had been a rebel for many years - and though on the downside
of his career, he still could kick some serious ass.
Rodriguez did a triple spin swift sow cow and finished with a two foot kick
to the pane of glass that separated him and the general. In one astonishing
move, Rodriguez had returned to two of his paramounts: freedom and gravity.
lunged at the general and grasped at his good arm.
general's left leg stopped dancing. He began an ancient dance with his old
brother in arms. A colossal struggle of will and body - clashing at close
range and with the highest of consequences.
at Rodriguez, Jorge made good on his age-old promise. Finishing his finishing
maneuver, Rodriguez was sent flying to the ground beneath the interrogation
looked up at the general, "I havent seen that move with the groove
since that fight at the Louvre. You were the liberation litegator, the rebels
rebel. You could cause an uprising in a society of monks and nuns. You could
rain on the parade of any world leader. But Im telling you now - youll
never hunt me."
general smiled, looking down at Rodriguez, helpless as a helper, hopeless
as a hoper - dreaming away a better day. Crowned, castled and castrated, sliced
like an English cucumber - real thin and coated with skin.
then, as the tension raised and the silence mounted like a bowling ball swinging
toward the king-pin .... Smash and it was over. The lights turned off the
illusions - castle bells ringing out shots of spectator stationery, signed
with a seal.
Rodriguez stood and looked about. It was over and he was alone again. He looked around at the chamber. Turning towards the locked entrance, he sat down on the floor and planned his escape.
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