Bang looked at Orbis, “You could have told us that sooner! We wouldn’t have given you such a hard time!”
“I’m trying to give you as little information as possible,” Orbis replied, then winced as soon as it came out for its stupidity.
“What?” Mirrorball asked.
ROM was more direct. “Now you sound like Vagabond.”
“What he means,” Scepter said, stepping in, “Is that it’s clear that this trafficking ring is also willing to kill to keep people quiet, if they get a good case of the morals.”
“We’ve taken on worse,” Bang replied coolly.
ROM shook her head, ox-horns bobbing. “We’ve taken on what we see comin’. Can’t see no sniper’s bullet comin’, baby.”
Mirrorball picked up the horrible photo of Vagabond bound, his young life just about to be ruined, and wandered away from the group. He had grown up on a hippie commune in the Arizona desert. Sure, he had heard of things like this, but never in a million years thought he would be involved in one so directly. Then he frowned.
“Not to be a downer or anything,” Tug-of-War piped in, “But has anybody thought what Vagabond is going to do once we tell him we not only cracked the case, but also cracked his secret?”
Scepter scratched his temple.
Orbis rolled his eyes.
“Well?” Bang tapped his foot. “Perfectly good question.”
“If you are asked a medical professional,” Scepter said, “He’ll puree everybody involved, including us.”
“I don’t think I like that answer one bit,” Bang said in an acidicly cheery voice.
Manny shook his head. “He’s going to kill them because they killed Paul, and turned Vagabond into…well, Vagabond. As for us making him see reality, he’ll never forgive us. The fantasy is the one thing he has left, and Fate won’t even let him have that. He may kill the messenger.”
“Is this a joke?” Paine asked, astounded.
“We have a plan, though,” Scepter said hastily. “We don’t tell him.”
“How is that a plan?” Tug-of-War demanded.
“You tell him,” Scepter’s sightless eyes looked to Tug.
The color drained from Tug-of-War’s already pale face. “How is THAT a plan?! ME? Why me?”
Scepter crossed his arms. “Because you are the only one us who has his sympathy…or what passes for it.”
Tug-of-War caught on fast. “The Lab. Because I’m a clone.”
“The Lab,” Scepter repeated. “Because you are a clone. Your life isn’t yours. Same with Vagabond…to a point. His life, whatever it may have become, was taken from him. On some level, he sees a comparison. That’s not the telepath Scepter speaking. That’s Dr. Manny Veracruz.”
“Hold up,” ROM interjected again. “Les’ just remove ourselves fo’ a minute. You realize we’d be settin’ Vagabond off on a massacre.”
“So he’d be killing a load of pedophiles,” Bang said, bluntly. “Go, Vagabond!” He chugged his fists in the air.
“As much as we all like the sound of that,” Paine said, “don’t normal people—you know, like US—bring them all to trial? These rings are like cockroaches: just because you lop off the head doesn’t mean you kill it. A trial, a full investigation—“
“But there is no evidence,” Orbis reminded him, shaking his hands with each word. “Not anymore. The SFPD was ordered to bury it, or destroy it.”
“Jesus,” ROM said, holding her hands to her forehead. “What about those files you swiped?”
“’Swiped?’” Paine deadpanned. “The goody-goody stole something?”
Mirrorball and Bang turned to the man.
Orbis waved his hand. “I nabbed a few files out of dozens. Not nearly enough to…”
Everybody stared at him in silence.
“Oh, FINE. Yes, I stole files! I broke the law! It was for the greater good! There! You happy?”
“Welcome to the Dark Side, young padwan,” Tug-of-War muttered.
