rigid, expressionless. “Sweet. If I ever get a job that requires a suit I’ll definitely check them out.”
An awkward moment floats by as the tension continues to hang in the air. Donovan can still feel the Muse pumping through his body; elevating his heart rate and causing a repeated muscle twitch in his chest and biceps. His hands ball into tight fists, knuckles cracking. His teeth grind like a tightening vise.
“Well,” Govinda replies, spreading his hands wide, “Mister Cole, I’m assuming you didn’t risk life and limb by throwing yourself through a pan-dimensional gateway just to talk about men’s fashion.”
“No. I came to do this.” Without warning Cole lunges forward and throws a jumping right cross, aimed squarely at Govinda’s sizable jaw line.
His target remains planted in place. Govinda doesn’t even flinch. He stands perfectly still, ridiculously calm and unconcerned.
Cole’s fist collides with a wall of electricity just inches from Govinda’s face. He bounces backwards, landing awkwardly on his side. It was as if he slammed into a transparent barrier made of concrete.
“I’m sorry Mister Cole,” Govinda says, with a tone so apologetic it nearly passed for sincere. “I should have explained something before we got off on the wrong foot. The Backyard is a custom-designed space that bridges your dimension with our facility. It works as a safeguard to stop any would-be intruders from following my employees through, and gaining unauthorized access to The Basement.”
Govinda gestures to the landscape, as if he’s actually admiring the eerie expanse. “At the moment, you can think of this as a sanctuary: a safe place where two parties can come together for friendly negotiations. No violence, no aggression, and no foul language.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Cole responds angrily, rubbing the arch of his back as he lumbers to his feet.
“Well,” Govinda shrugs, “the language thing is more of a guideline, but we strongly discourage it.”
“You’re going to have to do something about this violence policy because I’m suddenly in the mood to kill you.” Cole tightens his fists once again and lowers his chin.
Dia slowly places her hand on Cole’s arm, wrapping one finger at a time around his shoulder. She squeezes gently and pulls, just a bit, indicating that they should relent, but he doesn’t move a muscle. She can almost feel the fury permeating from his pores, emanating like a heat wave.
“Ah, I see.” Govinda reaches down and casually adjusts his watch, twisting a gold dial until it locks in place and gives off a series of short beeps. “If you’re in the mood for a violent outburst you’ll have to wait three minutes, starting…now. I’m having the shields lowered and the process takes some time, but I’m sure we can think of something to talk about while we wait.”
Dia’s feelings of apprehension suddenly elevate to a chest-tightening panic.
“So I’m curious,” Govinda asks, bringing one hand to his chin, “why on Earth would you ever want to kill me?”
“You mean aside from the kidnapping and torture and generally being an evil sonofabitch?”
“Is that what your new friends have been telling you?” he says, once again feigning a look of concern. “I think you’ve got the wrong impression of the work we’re doing here, Mister Cole.”
“Tell me about it.” Donovan’s anger swells as the gold watch blips steadily in the silence of the desert, methodically counting down with each passing second.
2:31,
2:30,
2:29…
“People around the world are manifesting at random,” he explains. “They’re scared, confused, and completely out of control. We’re simply taking the necessary steps in order to offer them the assistance they so badly require. What are your new friends doing to help others like them, Mister Cole? And why are you so quick to trust them?”
Dia’s eyes dart nervously between Govinda and Cole, now squeezing his
An awkward moment floats by as the tension continues to hang in the air. Donovan can still feel the Muse pumping through his body; elevating his heart rate and causing a repeated muscle twitch in his chest and biceps. His hands ball into tight fists, knuckles cracking. His teeth grind like a tightening vise.
“Well,” Govinda replies, spreading his hands wide, “Mister Cole, I’m assuming you didn’t risk life and limb by throwing yourself through a pan-dimensional gateway just to talk about men’s fashion.”
“No. I came to do this.” Without warning Cole lunges forward and throws a jumping right cross, aimed squarely at Govinda’s sizable jaw line.
His target remains planted in place. Govinda doesn’t even flinch. He stands perfectly still, ridiculously calm and unconcerned.
Cole’s fist collides with a wall of electricity just inches from Govinda’s face. He bounces backwards, landing awkwardly on his side. It was as if he slammed into a transparent barrier made of concrete.
“I’m sorry Mister Cole,” Govinda says, with a tone so apologetic it nearly passed for sincere. “I should have explained something before we got off on the wrong foot. The Backyard is a custom-designed space that bridges your dimension with our facility. It works as a safeguard to stop any would-be intruders from following my employees through, and gaining unauthorized access to The Basement.”
Govinda gestures to the landscape, as if he’s actually admiring the eerie expanse. “At the moment, you can think of this as a sanctuary: a safe place where two parties can come together for friendly negotiations. No violence, no aggression, and no foul language.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Cole responds angrily, rubbing the arch of his back as he lumbers to his feet.
“Well,” Govinda shrugs, “the language thing is more of a guideline, but we strongly discourage it.”
“You’re going to have to do something about this violence policy because I’m suddenly in the mood to kill you.” Cole tightens his fists once again and lowers his chin.
Dia slowly places her hand on Cole’s arm, wrapping one finger at a time around his shoulder. She squeezes gently and pulls, just a bit, indicating that they should relent, but he doesn’t move a muscle. She can almost feel the fury permeating from his pores, emanating like a heat wave.
“Ah, I see.” Govinda reaches down and casually adjusts his watch, twisting a gold dial until it locks in place and gives off a series of short beeps. “If you’re in the mood for a violent outburst you’ll have to wait three minutes, starting…now. I’m having the shields lowered and the process takes some time, but I’m sure we can think of something to talk about while we wait.”
Dia’s feelings of apprehension suddenly elevate to a chest-tightening panic.
“So I’m curious,” Govinda asks, bringing one hand to his chin, “why on Earth would you ever want to kill me?”
“You mean aside from the kidnapping and torture and generally being an evil sonofabitch?”
“Is that what your new friends have been telling you?” he says, once again feigning a look of concern. “I think you’ve got the wrong impression of the work we’re doing here, Mister Cole.”
“Tell me about it.” Donovan’s anger swells as the gold watch blips steadily in the silence of the desert, methodically counting down with each passing second.
2:31,
2:30,
2:29…
“People around the world are manifesting at random,” he explains. “They’re scared, confused, and completely out of control. We’re simply taking the necessary steps in order to offer them the assistance they so badly require. What are your new friends doing to help others like them, Mister Cole? And why are you so quick to trust them?”
Dia’s eyes dart nervously between Govinda and Cole, now squeezing his
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