03-07-2016, 12:12 AM
Ditto eyes fluttered. Black. No, not quite. Something black had been wrapped around his head, but tiny pinpricks of light lined the darkness around him. Some sort of hessian bag. It rubbed against the side of his cheek, coarse and itchy.
His first moment conscious again seemed like a nanosecond as the next lurched into view; the crack to his temple. Ditto sighed lowly at the heavy pounding in the side of his head, as if his captors had set a little person with a small hammer to slam it into his temple in rhythm with his heart beat. He swallowed and focused on his surroundings.
Hands gripped the underside of his biceps and hauled him out of a sitting position, holding him in a limp stand. Ditto didn't want them to know he was awake. They might begin questioning, or worse, torture. With the bag over his head, they wouldn't know the difference. He let his head droop into his chest.
"He's still unconscious," a voice to the left said.
"Well, he's had enough time to rest," the man on the right said. "Wake him up."
A solid set of knuckles drove into Ditto's gut, launching the breath from his lungs. He slouched in their grip, his chest convulsing as he gasped for more air. Ditto balled his fists as a new ache registered in his abdomen.
When he got free, he would slaughter ever last one of Spook Eye's goons to a man. Every. Single. One. To be treated this way, especially by humans, was intolerable. It yanked on every last nerve that he had. First, though, he had to work out where he was.
"There. Pretty sure he didn't sleep through that."
"All right, scumbag," the right sided voice said. "We're taking you somewhere. You'll walk but we'll guide you. Try anything funny and we'll see how tender we can make you. Understood?"
Ditto scowled. "Just get on with it."
The two guards pulled on his arms so quickly he felt his shoulder joints pop. Ditto alighted on his feet and walked, following the pushes and pulls of his captors. They walked down a hallway, turned to the left, turned again six steps later, stopped still as the ground beneath them rose upwards, then walked straight for quite a time until they halted again.
Three loud wraps on a door bounced off the hallway walls. A sharp click preceded the smooth whoosh of air rushing out of a sudden gap. "Yes?"
"Spook Eye's 11 o'clock here to see him," the left guard said.
"Spook Eye?" Ditto said. He couldn't help himself. The surprise mobilised his mouth. He didn't expect to have an audience with his leading rival.
The same four knuckles ground into his stomach, re-igniting the steady bruised pulse. Ditto growled.
"No speaking unless spoken to, damn it!" said the voice.
"Yeah yeah," the female voice moaned. "Put him there and get out."
Ditto walked into the room, and a fresh blue light splashed through the tiny gaps of his hessian bag. A solid object hit the back of his calves and he fell into a hard chair. Before he could even breathe, hands quickly bound Ditto's wrists to the chunky armrests, followed by his ankles. He tugged on them tight; some sort of leather strap, judging by their yield and smooth, slippery touch.
"Wait here," one of the guards said. A sharp laugh rose above the quiet. "Well, you don't really have a choice, do you?"
Ditto thought better of a riposte and bit his tongue. He didn't need another coward punch.
The door clapped and the locks clicked. He heard footsteps walk past him to the far side of the room. The female voice spoke again. "I'm sure you'll see him soon."
With that, Ditto was left to himself, staring at the miniature gaps in the bag's fabric, breathing in his hot breath as it rushed back at him. Outside the muffled ring of a telephone and the calm buzz of the air-conditioning, there was no sound in the room.
What was Spook Eye planning to do to him? Was he making him stew again, like he did in the jail cells? Or was he that busy that he was going to be late to his own appointment? Then again, Ditto had no idea what time it was.
He could transform, rip his binds apart and fly out the nearest window, but then his secret would be firmly in the open. Besides, an opportunity to see Spook Eye in person was not one he was about to hurl into the trash. The next chance to converse with the crime lord might not be under such peaceful circumstances. Sure, Ditto was tied to a chair, but it was better than standing over a dead soldier with a field of dead soldiers behind him.
The click of a door handle cut through the air so suddenly that Ditto tensed his muscles. After it closed, two heavy footsteps moved towards Ditto and stopped in front of him. He saw the black of his suit block out the centre of his hessian bag gaps.
"So," he said quietly, not a hint of emotion in his voice, "we meet at last."
Ditto kept his lips together. The only thing that left him was his breath through his nostrils.
"Perhaps not in the most civilised of circumstances, that's true," Spook Eye continued. "But then, there's nothing civilised about what you did to my outpost."
Ditto smiled. A brief chuckle lit in his chest and stayed there.
Spook Eye's shadow shifted. "Funny, is it? I suppose it would be. It's quite the headache to get property insured on Tier 5. High risk and all of that. But I'm sure you were aware of that."
That voice was so familiar. Where had Ditto heard it before?
"Then again, I admit, I had a laugh at your expense. The fledgling empire of 'Team Rocket' ... to think, it was just a ragtag collection of talentless wallet-snatchers and hot-headed thugs listening to a man in a suit." He stepped to the far wall, where the most intense blue light radiated from. A window, probably. "It seems my informants placed you on a higher pedestal than you warranted. I sent far too many men to eliminate that supposed threat."
Ditto's brow set low. "And yet, you still didn't kill them all."
Spook Eye tone stayed level. "Yes, I heard. Diesel. I must admit, with the right head on that man's shoulders, he would make a perfect janitor."
Ditto made a mental note of that. Unlike Shingles and Vinny, Spook Eye's men had subdued rather than killed Diesel. There must have been a reason, but the gang leader was tight-lipped about it.
"And-"
"The crazy one?" Spook Eye interrupted. "True, I didn't expect him to have enough sense to attempt a rescue in the way he did. I'm not even sure how he didn't get shot in the initial raid on your warehouse. Still, he's as unpredictable as he is helpful. If a shiny piece of tin foil rolls past him on the street one day, he'll chase it to the edge of Coruscant and beyond."
"No," Ditto said, though he had meant Ricky. It just felt good to make himself seem smarter than his enemy for a moment. It was the only aspect of their conversation where he won the point. "I meant me."
"Ah, yes," Spook Eye said, clapping once. His shadow darkened the outside light. "You're a different case compared to the others though, aren't you? You didn't eke out a life on the streets, mauling whoever got in your way just to survive. You stumbled into this universe with a suit and a superiority complex and decided to bully some brainless brutes into working for you. Not many men with a balanced sense of self-preservation would do that. There's plenty of opportunity in the upper tiers of Coruscant. Why sink into its seedy depths when an honest, hardworking man could have what he wants in a safe, protected environment?"
Ditto narrowed his eyes. Spook Eye was analytical. He'd been studying Ditto with the same precision, the same hunger, attempting to piece together his motives. How much did he think he knew?
"Some men prefer the seedy depths," Ditto remarked. "Why make an honest buck when you can make two dishonest ones for the same effort?"
Spook Eye stepped back. "I know much more about you than you think I do."
"Please, enlighten me."
"You're an imitator," Spook Eye said. "You don't have an identity of your own, so you take to stealing the identity of others. To what end, I can't see yet. Perhaps it is as simple as running your own crime kingdom. There's plenty of perks, after all. But from what I know about you, I'm willing to bet that your goals are much loftier than that."
Ditto's patience was at breaking point. "Just get to the point and shoot me, already."
"Shoot you?" Spook Eye said. "Whatever gave you the idea that I would shoot you?"
That voice! Who owned that damnable voice?!
"At least let me see your face!" Ditto said.
A pause. "Oh, I intend to. I just enjoy making people sweat."
Spook Eye moved forward, blocking all light from the room. The bag tugged upwards, sliding against Ditto's skin as it rose. The edge of the bag caught beneath Ditto's nose, but a powerful rip tore it painfully up and around it, freeing his head. The cool caress of the air-conditioning attended to the sweat on his face, but it did nothing to soothe the molten lava that spilled into his gut.
Ditto stared face-to-face with Spook Eye, and realised in a horrible second why the voice was so familiar.
It was his.
"Perhaps now you can see why you aren't dead yet. It isn't every day that one finds out that his rival looks exactly like himself."
Giovanni smiled, but it did not touch his eyes.
His first moment conscious again seemed like a nanosecond as the next lurched into view; the crack to his temple. Ditto sighed lowly at the heavy pounding in the side of his head, as if his captors had set a little person with a small hammer to slam it into his temple in rhythm with his heart beat. He swallowed and focused on his surroundings.
Hands gripped the underside of his biceps and hauled him out of a sitting position, holding him in a limp stand. Ditto didn't want them to know he was awake. They might begin questioning, or worse, torture. With the bag over his head, they wouldn't know the difference. He let his head droop into his chest.
"He's still unconscious," a voice to the left said.
"Well, he's had enough time to rest," the man on the right said. "Wake him up."
A solid set of knuckles drove into Ditto's gut, launching the breath from his lungs. He slouched in their grip, his chest convulsing as he gasped for more air. Ditto balled his fists as a new ache registered in his abdomen.
When he got free, he would slaughter ever last one of Spook Eye's goons to a man. Every. Single. One. To be treated this way, especially by humans, was intolerable. It yanked on every last nerve that he had. First, though, he had to work out where he was.
"There. Pretty sure he didn't sleep through that."
"All right, scumbag," the right sided voice said. "We're taking you somewhere. You'll walk but we'll guide you. Try anything funny and we'll see how tender we can make you. Understood?"
Ditto scowled. "Just get on with it."
The two guards pulled on his arms so quickly he felt his shoulder joints pop. Ditto alighted on his feet and walked, following the pushes and pulls of his captors. They walked down a hallway, turned to the left, turned again six steps later, stopped still as the ground beneath them rose upwards, then walked straight for quite a time until they halted again.
Three loud wraps on a door bounced off the hallway walls. A sharp click preceded the smooth whoosh of air rushing out of a sudden gap. "Yes?"
"Spook Eye's 11 o'clock here to see him," the left guard said.
"Spook Eye?" Ditto said. He couldn't help himself. The surprise mobilised his mouth. He didn't expect to have an audience with his leading rival.
The same four knuckles ground into his stomach, re-igniting the steady bruised pulse. Ditto growled.
"No speaking unless spoken to, damn it!" said the voice.
"Yeah yeah," the female voice moaned. "Put him there and get out."
Ditto walked into the room, and a fresh blue light splashed through the tiny gaps of his hessian bag. A solid object hit the back of his calves and he fell into a hard chair. Before he could even breathe, hands quickly bound Ditto's wrists to the chunky armrests, followed by his ankles. He tugged on them tight; some sort of leather strap, judging by their yield and smooth, slippery touch.
"Wait here," one of the guards said. A sharp laugh rose above the quiet. "Well, you don't really have a choice, do you?"
Ditto thought better of a riposte and bit his tongue. He didn't need another coward punch.
The door clapped and the locks clicked. He heard footsteps walk past him to the far side of the room. The female voice spoke again. "I'm sure you'll see him soon."
With that, Ditto was left to himself, staring at the miniature gaps in the bag's fabric, breathing in his hot breath as it rushed back at him. Outside the muffled ring of a telephone and the calm buzz of the air-conditioning, there was no sound in the room.
What was Spook Eye planning to do to him? Was he making him stew again, like he did in the jail cells? Or was he that busy that he was going to be late to his own appointment? Then again, Ditto had no idea what time it was.
He could transform, rip his binds apart and fly out the nearest window, but then his secret would be firmly in the open. Besides, an opportunity to see Spook Eye in person was not one he was about to hurl into the trash. The next chance to converse with the crime lord might not be under such peaceful circumstances. Sure, Ditto was tied to a chair, but it was better than standing over a dead soldier with a field of dead soldiers behind him.
The click of a door handle cut through the air so suddenly that Ditto tensed his muscles. After it closed, two heavy footsteps moved towards Ditto and stopped in front of him. He saw the black of his suit block out the centre of his hessian bag gaps.
"So," he said quietly, not a hint of emotion in his voice, "we meet at last."
Ditto kept his lips together. The only thing that left him was his breath through his nostrils.
"Perhaps not in the most civilised of circumstances, that's true," Spook Eye continued. "But then, there's nothing civilised about what you did to my outpost."
Ditto smiled. A brief chuckle lit in his chest and stayed there.
Spook Eye's shadow shifted. "Funny, is it? I suppose it would be. It's quite the headache to get property insured on Tier 5. High risk and all of that. But I'm sure you were aware of that."
That voice was so familiar. Where had Ditto heard it before?
"Then again, I admit, I had a laugh at your expense. The fledgling empire of 'Team Rocket' ... to think, it was just a ragtag collection of talentless wallet-snatchers and hot-headed thugs listening to a man in a suit." He stepped to the far wall, where the most intense blue light radiated from. A window, probably. "It seems my informants placed you on a higher pedestal than you warranted. I sent far too many men to eliminate that supposed threat."
Ditto's brow set low. "And yet, you still didn't kill them all."
Spook Eye tone stayed level. "Yes, I heard. Diesel. I must admit, with the right head on that man's shoulders, he would make a perfect janitor."
Ditto made a mental note of that. Unlike Shingles and Vinny, Spook Eye's men had subdued rather than killed Diesel. There must have been a reason, but the gang leader was tight-lipped about it.
"And-"
"The crazy one?" Spook Eye interrupted. "True, I didn't expect him to have enough sense to attempt a rescue in the way he did. I'm not even sure how he didn't get shot in the initial raid on your warehouse. Still, he's as unpredictable as he is helpful. If a shiny piece of tin foil rolls past him on the street one day, he'll chase it to the edge of Coruscant and beyond."
"No," Ditto said, though he had meant Ricky. It just felt good to make himself seem smarter than his enemy for a moment. It was the only aspect of their conversation where he won the point. "I meant me."
"Ah, yes," Spook Eye said, clapping once. His shadow darkened the outside light. "You're a different case compared to the others though, aren't you? You didn't eke out a life on the streets, mauling whoever got in your way just to survive. You stumbled into this universe with a suit and a superiority complex and decided to bully some brainless brutes into working for you. Not many men with a balanced sense of self-preservation would do that. There's plenty of opportunity in the upper tiers of Coruscant. Why sink into its seedy depths when an honest, hardworking man could have what he wants in a safe, protected environment?"
Ditto narrowed his eyes. Spook Eye was analytical. He'd been studying Ditto with the same precision, the same hunger, attempting to piece together his motives. How much did he think he knew?
"Some men prefer the seedy depths," Ditto remarked. "Why make an honest buck when you can make two dishonest ones for the same effort?"
Spook Eye stepped back. "I know much more about you than you think I do."
"Please, enlighten me."
"You're an imitator," Spook Eye said. "You don't have an identity of your own, so you take to stealing the identity of others. To what end, I can't see yet. Perhaps it is as simple as running your own crime kingdom. There's plenty of perks, after all. But from what I know about you, I'm willing to bet that your goals are much loftier than that."
Ditto's patience was at breaking point. "Just get to the point and shoot me, already."
"Shoot you?" Spook Eye said. "Whatever gave you the idea that I would shoot you?"
That voice! Who owned that damnable voice?!
"At least let me see your face!" Ditto said.
A pause. "Oh, I intend to. I just enjoy making people sweat."
Spook Eye moved forward, blocking all light from the room. The bag tugged upwards, sliding against Ditto's skin as it rose. The edge of the bag caught beneath Ditto's nose, but a powerful rip tore it painfully up and around it, freeing his head. The cool caress of the air-conditioning attended to the sweat on his face, but it did nothing to soothe the molten lava that spilled into his gut.
Ditto stared face-to-face with Spook Eye, and realised in a horrible second why the voice was so familiar.
It was his.
"Perhaps now you can see why you aren't dead yet. It isn't every day that one finds out that his rival looks exactly like himself."
Giovanni smiled, but it did not touch his eyes.
![[Image: jimsig.jpg]](http://www.cytokineindustries.com/chevereto/images/2017/07/07/jimsig.jpg)