BEGINNING OF STORY
PREVIOUS (PART 24)

“Rico, I now have a plan that has a 62% chance of success, but I would require you to first…”
“Do you believe in God, Dip?”
“I lack the data to make a determination on that… or even assign it a probability.”
“You think God would help me if I prayed to Him… assuming He exists?”
“No. I believe you are evil, and most portrayals of God does not have him helping the evil… unless you repent your evil ways. That would have you first admitting to them, Rico.”
“Yeah.”
“Shouldn’t we discuss the escape plan, Rico?”
“Not right now. I’m going to read. I’ll talk to you later.”
“I think you should sleep, Rico.”
“Eventually.”
“I haven’t heard back from Vito, by the way.”
I was curious what message he’d have to relay to me… if any.
I asked Diane if I could keep the Bible. She seemed delighted at the prospect, and then wrote down some verses for me to read. I took that paper, but I only wanted the book for something to distract me for the night. I just didn’t want to think about this job anymore.
When I got back to my room, I tossed the piece of paper aside and scanned through the Old Testament. God was a vengeful old bastard before he settled down and had a kid. Being God would be a fun job, but I don’t think I could come up with rules to hand down from a mountain.
The New Testament is all about love (which I’ve never been sure is really a distinct emotion), but Hell turns up plenty. Out of curiosity, I looked up what I have to do to gain salvation. Technically, I’m not exempt even with all my killing. In reality, I’m screwed. Part of salvation involves water, and that’s not a problem. Also, one has to sin no more, and I can do that (other than killing and the lying that sometimes leads up to the killing, I’m pretty much free of vice). There are two parts to salvation, though, which I am just incapable of. One is believing. The other is repenting.
I can’t believe this crap. It’s all unprovable, so how can I just suddenly say I believe? People call that faith, and I just don’t know what that is. It’s seems more like delusion. I may be a psychopath, but I’m not delusional. I’m firmly grounded in reality.
And, because I’m a psychopath, I can’t actually “repent” for my sins because I don’t feel any guilt. I could ask for forgiveness, but that would just be words. I’ve slaughtered the innocent, and it means nothing to me. That’s just who I am. If this Christianity stuff is right, then God made me to go to Hell.
And it seemed like the universe was bent on speeding me there.
Well, maybe Satan would help me, but I don’t think I could ever trust the guy.
I got a little sleep, but I was up really early so I could use the hotel weight room when pretty much no one else was there. I worked so hard, I nearly hurt myself. Maybe I was trying to hurt myself. I guess that’s my way of running. But I’m not going anywhere. I have no where to go.
I showered, got dressed, and went to meet Diane.
“Are you all right, Rico?” She really was concerned about me. That was funny.
I got in the passenger seat and handed back her Bible – the “Holy” one. “Thanks for lending this to me.”
“It’s yours, Rico.” She started taking the vehicle into the air.
“Thanks, but I don’t think Christianity is for me.”
“Still, you can have it if you ever need it.”
I tried to put the book in an inner coat pocket, but it was big and I accidentally knocked something out. A bottle of pills rolled off my seat and rattled to the ground.
“What are those?”
“It’s personal,” I answered as I quickly snatched them up. I wonder how much she saw? It was a full bottle of pills, but the label was so old and worn that the only think left visible was the warning, “May Cause Nausea.” I don’t know why I still keep them with me; I don’t want nausea.
Diane gave me an odd look, and I expected a question. None came though. That was good because I had plenty of questions for myself.
Why am I still doing this?
If Gredler is with Randatti, it’s possible the feds charged with protecting Gredler we were going to meet were Randatti thugs themselves. It was not a leap to think that Randatti had a file on me, and these people might recognize me on sight.
Then again, maybe a nice firefight was what I wanted. If one broke out, it would be interesting to see what side Diane chose.
We landed on top of a building that gave a great sniper’s view of the stadium where Gredler would speak on sentient diversity. The feds weren’t there yet.
“I might head back to Rikar early,” I blurted out.
“Why?”
“All of this… with the criminal syndicates and everything… I think it’s just too much for me. I don’t know what I’m trying to get out of this. You said yourself you’d think the whole diversity conference is bull anyway.”
“I don’t think it will achieve anything, but I’d rather you’d stay.” Diane put her hand on my shoulder. “I’m learning from you too, Rico.”
I smiled weakly. The feds then landed and I mentally prepared myself for a shootout. A human female and some grayish alien (male?) approached us, both wearing black suits. At first I was trying to recognize the type of alien, but then the female caught my eye. She looked young for a fed. She had red hair, a killer figure, and…
I knew her.
Usually, she’d be the type of woman you’d want to remember you, but I was hoping otherwise. Little chance of that, though; I did wing her when we first met. Women remember that sort of thing.
There was a short look of surprise when she saw me, but she very quickly stifled it.
“I’m Agent Verg,” the gray alien said, “and this is Agent Dawson.”
“Detective Thompson,” Diane said, shaking both their hands.
“Rico,” I said, first shaking Verg’s hand. I figured I’d pretend to not know her, and she’d do the same.
She had other plans.
When we shook hands, she made it seem like she suddenly recognized me. “Rico from Rikar!” she exclaimed, “I heard about you, but I didn’t put it together until just now. Remember me, Morrigan?”
I gave myself a second. “Oh yeah. Small universe, isn’t it?”
“It is. After we’re done today, I’d love to catch up if you have time tonight.”
“That would be great.”
Diane was looking at us oddly. If only she knew the full story.
It was hard to enumerate on exactly how many different levels I was screwed right now. If there was any mercy to “Morrigan,” she’d skip the chit-chat tonight and go straight to trying to kill me.
Emphasis on “try,” of course.
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