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Chapter 21 - Puzzle Pieces

One thing I always find funny about books and stories, especially the high adventure kind, is that the characters' lives are always thrilling and full of events and excitement -- that their lives are now on a course so unique that they can't be bothered by the everyday common issues they once dealt with.

I wish my life was like that, but alas, it always has to revert back to the simple calculus that--even though I may be the obsession of a murderous caracal who is hell-bent on killing all my friends and doing unspeakable horrors to me--I still had rent to pay, and so I went back to work at Palmer's while everyone else did their best to keep busy.

The next few days were rather boring compared to the last few; I had cleaned and polished, helped move heavy objects and stocked shelves, ran courier deliveries when Palmer needed it, and everything else on his agenda. I had also noticed that he was treating me much better than before. I had actually asked him once when we were in the backroom together organizing some inventory.

"I suppose I was a bit rough with you not too long ago," Palmer said in a thoughtful voice as he adjusted his glasses. "You used to annoy me, Simon."

That I felt surprised was putting it mildly. "What do you mean, sir?"

Palmer scratched his head. "It's... complicated, and not a good answer, I'm afraid, but I will do my best."

The cheetah perched himself on the end of his desk, plucking the glasses from the bridge of his nose and pulling out a cloth to wipe the lenses down.

"By now, as I am sure you can tell, I fancy men as well as women. I used to control my desire for men quite well until you wandered into my shop that day asking for a job. I was annoyed but I couldn't just say no, since you looked so lost, and I admit, handsome."

I was quiet as I listened, resisting the urge to ask probing questions.

"I don't know what it was but you used to walk around like a corpse, Simon. You never seemed to enjoy anything. You moved with the speed of a man who was just interested in keeping himself alive one more day and little else. You never smiled unless you had to, which was when we had a customer come in. I was--and I suppose I still am--jealous of you."

Hearing this made my jaw drop. "What?! But... why? You have a family, a shop, money, connections... I promise you, Mr. Palmer, my life is not one that people should want."

Palmer cleared his throat when he put the glasses back on his face. "It isn't your life I was envious about, Simon. It was that you could be exactly how you want to be. You aren't afraid someone is going to hurt you for liking men. You've never been ashamed of that part of your life and... that is not something I can have."

The man swallowed again and coughed into a handkerchief. I noticed it was to hide the blush on his face. He went on.

"So here I am, I have this gorgeous young man working under me who is dead to the world but so open about his sexual preference, and then I found out you were working at the one place I went to twice a year for my own... fix, shall we say -- I couldn't stand it. Even if I weren't ashamed of liking men, I could never turn heads the way you do, Simon.

"You're also as dense as lead, so you never saw the way people looked at you when you thought no one was looking. You are beautiful, my boy. I've seen you naked and you could be a work of art in a museum. You look good dressed and undressed and it drove me mad. You had something I would kill for but didn't care about any joy it brought you. I took that anger out on you, even when we had sex."

Blushing, I rubbed the back of my neck. "And... now?"

I watched Palmer adjust himself -- he was hard in his pants -- and pretend to look at the framed pictures on the wall. "Now you seem more at peace with yourself. You don't look dead anymore, and I see you move with a bounce in your step. You smile when you don't have to. You crack jokes with me. I've even heard you engage customers in all sorts of conversations that aren't related to work, but you make them feel special so I know they'll come back as repeat business. You used to only look alive when we had sex. Now you look like that all the time.

"I'm not going to say I understand your life. I don't particularly want to know, but seeing you snap out of whatever it was that was bothering you, you practically glow now. You're charming and relaxing to be around. You've also gotten much better at sex. I don't feel envious about you anymore because it feels like you're finally acknowledging the gifts God gave you, my boy."

I was honestly speechless. Palmer had never opened up like that before but here we were, the cheetah was smiling at me. Hard as a rock, sure, but still smiling. I was about to move forward when the clock on the wall went off.

"Oh dammit, if we don't hurry with that Burk order we're going to be late for a delivery. Let's rush it and you can take off afterward."

So that was how my life with Palmer started to improve. I had also noticed Avery was coming around less and less. Maybe Palmer was right. Maybe I was feeling better about myself and everything else. I know I was feeling better. Nevertheless, I still had a job to do and set about working on it. I could bask in the adulation of the cheetah's praise after the Burk order was taken care of.

---

"You see, Mr. Palmer, this is the way of the future! Before long, gas lamps and lanterns will be a thing of the past. Like how the printing press changed everything for books and literature, so too will electricity change everything."

I peeked from around the corner of the shop and saw Palmer talking to a small badger dressed in a nice suit and holding his hat in hand but also being very animated. His traveling case said "Lumiere" on the side. Odd.

Palmer, charming when he had people in his shop, smiled politely and shook his head slowly. "Thank you for your demonstration, but I am going to have to turn you down."

"I understand, I understand," the badger said and fixed his hat on his head. "If I may ask, what was it that is holding you back from embracing the future, sir?"

Palmer's tail tip twitched. The badger had insulted him, and now he wasn't going to get even a second chance should he come around again. Still, my boss smiled politely. "I just do not trust this new technology. It is far too new and you're asking us to run wires through our homes and businesses -- it is a lot of hubbub over something that could be a fad or dangerous."

"I assure you the technology is safe, Mr. Palmer," the badger stammered. "We take--"

"If you'll excuse me, I have to get back to my business," Palmer said curtly.

"Very well, very well." The badger fidgeted and pulled out a business card, handing it over to the cheetah. "Should you change your mind."

Palmer didn't say anything as the badger left. Once the door closed the cheetah exhaled and threw the card in the bin.

"Rubbish. Gas works just fine. No need to change what isn't broken." Palmer turned to me and shook his head. "That's the second time someone from that damned company has come around trying to peddle their weird technology. They always say things like 'your gas line could explode one day'! As if I don't take good care of my home and establishment. Why, just today the city inspector came around and looked at my pipes and said I was golden!"

"You know how salesmen can be," I said, putting the broom down and stepping further into the front of the store. "Pushy."

"Quite right," the cheetah said and plucked the glasses from the bridge of his nose, rubbing his eyes with an index and thumb. "And he's put us behind. Let's double-time it so we aren't working late into the evening again."

"But I thought you liked it when--" I said with a smirk.

"Ah!" he held a finger up and glared at me. "None of that until we're done. I don't want either of us distracted. We have work to do."

I sighed. Business before pleasure, it seemed.

---

I did manage to get home at a reasonable hour -- Palmer was showing me tricks on how to make orders much quicker, and I found I liked the work. I was wondering if maybe I could be an apothecary. I was lost in my own mind of having my own shop as I entered that I almost missed the sight in front of me.

"Aha! Simon my boy, there you are. I was worried you had been delayed once again, what with these bands of vagrants wandering about," a black fox said. He was dressed in a handsome burgundy suit with a matching tophat. It was stitched really well and the colors vibrant. In his hand was a cane with a silver canine head. Over one of his eyes was a monocle.

Fiz was home.

"Ah, Hey Fiz--engärten, I thought you were still at the hideout...? You're okay?" I said, remembering what this version of my friend was now standing in front of me.

"He WAS!" a voice said from the table. Rut sat there with his head leaning forward and hands on either side of his skull looking tired. "But he got himself thrown out. I thought Tin was going to punch him."

"If we did come to a kerfuffle of sorts, it would be the Marquis of Queensbury rules for certain, my dear chap," the dapper fox said with a chuckle. He had a faint English accent, or rather, what approximated for one.

"Tin said... Fizengärten here kept asking to put an apple on his head and let him throw knives at it. Said he needed the practice."

"He would not have been hurt," Fizengärten said as if he had been offended.

"He's mostly healed anyway," Rut said with a tired groan. "But now he's like this and he's been like this for a few days. He only drinks tea now."

"A gentleman always enjoys a spot of tea, my dear Ruttiger."

I sat down in one of the chairs and tapped a finger on the table. Something about this new persona of Fiz was... interesting. The way I understood it was that such pretend play was almost like a different personality, but not quite. Fiz's mind was not something I completely understood. But he was always so sharp...

"Fizengärten," I said with a swallow, "I have a question for you."

"Oh? Ask away Simon. I do enjoy a good question or riddle. I hope it is challenging." Fizengärten smiled at me charmingly. He was cute, I couldn't deny it. As dangerous as Fiz was, I couldn't imagine a life without him in my life.

I replied, "I want you to imagine you're Mordecai." Rut sat up a little and watched me carefully. The twin looked like he was about to say something but didn't.

"All right," Fizengärten said with a fix of his hat. "I assume you want me to also be the one who wears the mask and kills for fun, eh?"

"Yes," I said with a sly grin. "Exactly. Now... you're rich, powerful, crazy and obsessive. You're building up a strong power base in the city and have connections with the electric company Lumiere. You've sunk money into a new company with a new technology that may not be popular. You're also looking to cull your enemies. What would you do?"

Without missing a beat, Fizengärten answered: "That's simple: control the electric company."

I leaned in slightly toward the black fox's direction. "Fizengärten, I need you to explain why. I am not as smart as you are, and you think so many steps ahead..." I said humbly, hoping it worked.

It did. The black fox preened a little and nodded. He cleared his throat again and tapped the end of the cane to the wooden floor. "Step one! Make Lumiere powerful. How do you do that? Convert people over to it."

"But people are reluctant," Rut added. "The main reason is that they don't know if it's safe to use in their homes and businesses. Being a new technology, most people don't know how it works, or what can go wrong if things go awry. Not to mention it's also expensive to modify buildings for electricity when the gas lines are already there."

"Precisely," Fizengärten said. "That explosion was a gas leak, was it not? And it destroyed properties all in the area that Mordecai wants."

"...And he has leases to buy up the abandoned land now, at a fraction of the cost."

Fizengärten grinned. "You're getting warmer. So what does that mean? Remember, Crossbell Towers is contracted with the gas company, too."

And like that it all clicked together. I stood up quickly and put my hands on the table, staring between the brothers. "Mordecai... he's going to level this city slowly but surely by making it look like it's the fault of defective gas lines. People will have no homes, no businesses."

"And if they do," Rut added, "it'll be so damaged they'll need repairs."

"After all, it is much easier to convince someone to add new things when they're already doing the work...such as laying out electrical lines," Fizengärten added.

"But wouldn't that be bad business for Mordecai?" Rut questioned. "All those gas company contracts and money..."

"It will definitely hurt the ledgers," Fizengärten said and sat down at the table, shaking his head like he was talking about a dearly departed friend. "The next two quarters will be positively dreadful..." But he smiled and looked up. "However, in a year so much of this city will be new with new electricity lines."

"And Lumiere is owned by Crossbell Industries," Rut said slowly. "So while the gas contracts dry up, something that is already cheap or owned by people who would never give all of them up to begin with, Mordecai will now have all the power contracts for the city, since Lumiere will be there to sell the technology. He'll make millions in..." He did some mental calculations. "Approximately five years."

"Exactly," Fiz said with a smirk. "It is what I call 'lose the battle to win the war.' He's willing to take the loss now to get bigger gains in the future. He believes in this technology of lights and power, and he's just making sure the scales tilt in his favor."

I remembered the badger who came into Palmer's store earlier today. "I saw someone from Lumiere at work," I added. "The man was trying to aggressively sell Palmer on the idea of electricity. And Palmer said someone from the gas company had been doing inspections."

Rut chewed on his cheek for a moment and grunted. "It isn't solid evidence, it could be coincidence, but if what Fiz is saying is true, it makes perfect sense."

I clutched my hands hard into fists. "So Palmer's neighborhood is next... We can't let that happen to him and his family, Rut. He has a lot of his money invested in his shop; it's everything to him. He'd be ruined if it..."

Suddenly, there came some loud clashes from behind a closed door, and Fiz walked out of the bedroom. Wait, how...when did he go in there? He came out in his usual slacks and buttoned-up shirt, his knife in his hand and flicking it up and catching it at the tip between two fingers.

"Fizengärten boring. Tells everyone plan," the fox said with a frown and tossed himself into the chair across from me.

"Oh thank God," Rut groaned dramatically, letting his head fall and thump onto the wooden table. "I was gonna go insane if you kept talking like that for another day."

"Insane already," Fiz said playfully and winked at his twin.

"So..." I said, drawing their eyes back to me. "Is Mordecai doing this because it will make him money--"

"No," Fiz said, shaking his head. "Not money."

"What... Why then?"

"Power," Rut said and looked over at me. "Power is the one thing rich people crave. Control over their own destiny, to make some kind of difference in the world, something that may record them as a pioneer in history or literature or art... in other words, immortalizing them. Long after the person dies, his name will still be told for generations to come. That's the ultimate form of power a person can wish for."

"What're we gonna do about it?" I asked, looking around at the twins, feeling my heartbeat quicken with increased anxiety. "We don't really have any proof, but the pieces fit together nicely. And chances are, we may not even have that much time left before Mordecai moves on to the next steps of his plans, whatever they might be."

Rut finished his drink with a quick gulp. Placing the cup on the table, he grinned. "Now, we bring everyone in and figure out a masterplan to bring this monster down once and for all." He turned to his twin. "What do you say, dear brother?"

The black fox threw his knife. With a sound of it cutting through the air, the weapon impacted on the far wall into a picture of Mordecai that had been clipped from a newspaper. The knife landed dead-center and right between the caracal's eyes.

"Dead," Fiz replied. "Promise."