Outsiders Pt. 06

Ben Kidder sat on his parents' couch and rubbed his brow in a vain effort to curb the headache he was suffering as a result of sleep deprivation and the emotional turmoil he had gone through that night. His other hand held his phone to his ear. On the other end of the line was his former slave girl, Krista.

"Come again," he said.

"Sir," Krista said, in a deferential tone of voice, "there is an FBI agent in the lobby, waiting to speak with you."

Ben took his phone off his ear and looked at its screen. He put it back to his ear and said, "Now? It's not even nine a.m."

"I can only tell you what I know, Sir," Krista said. "The agent arrived a few minutes ago and the doorman described him as insistent."

Ben huffed in frustration. He didn't want to be interrogated by the FBI. He didn't want Krista to keep addressing him as 'Sir'. He wanted to apologize and atone for blowing up at the girls earlier. He wanted to get the full might of the federal government behind himself.

Before he could say anything, Krista said, "Sir, the doorman already confirmed to the FBI agent that you are here."

Ben's brow drew down in displeasure. "Well, that takes him off my Christmas list," he thought to himself. "And no more tips, either."

"Should I try to dissuade the agent?"

"No," Ben said. "No." He was about to say that he'll be right there, but his parents were sitting right next to him. He couldn't say that, excuse himself for a moment, and go teleporting to his apartment without provoking his mother's suspicions.

"Hold on a sec," he said to Krista. He covered the mouthpiece of his phone and said to his parents, "I need to take this call upstairs, in my room. I'll be back downstairs in, like, ten minutes, or so. Ok?"

His parents nodded, still shaken up from hearing the President speak of emergency measures to deal with the undead threat, and Ben got up to go to his childhood bedroom. As soon as he locked the door behind himself, he picked up his bag with the jade circlet and teleported to his apartment. He hung up the phone and said, "Krista, send the agent up and keep him occupied at the front door! Offer him refreshments and the like, ok?"

"Yes, Sir," Krista said, with a sharp salute. She marched over to the door and stood by it at attention. Ben didn't know if she was being sarcastic with her pseudo-military act, or if it was for real. He hoped she wouldn't go blabbing to the FBI agent. He walked up the stairs, to one of the bedrooms, and placed the circlet upon his brow. He cast Shapechange on himself and changed into a Djinni.

He took gaseous form and invisibly flew towards the front door. While he waited for the agent to arrive, he took the chance to read the girls' minds.

Krista's mind was focused on the task of distracting the agent, but Ben could tell that she was eager to fight the enemy in the manner he had described. She saw it as a new experience and an adventure beyond compare. She wanted to be the badass scrapper, for once, and not have to rely on her charms and quick wits to get out of trouble. She imagined herself wearing sexy, magically enhanced armor and chopping down waves of crazy cultists with a big machinegun. She didn't even think once about him screaming at her.

Raven was asleep in one of the upstairs bedrooms. Lisa was also lying in bed, but she wasn't asleep. Her mind was consumed with doubts. Ben focused on those and understood that her doubts were about herself and whether or not she had the guts to go fighting alongside him and the girls. Ben wasn't surprised to read from her mind that the girls had a serious tête-à-tête about his rant as soon as he had teleported out of here, but he was surprised to learn that Krista and Raven were completely on board with the idea of entering combat with the cultists.

They were somewhat less on board with the idea of adhering to strict, military discipline and the no-fun approach to preparations that he had angrily spat out earlier, but he guessed that that was to be expected. Krista was a hedonistic adrenaline junkie and Raven had only been deflowered last month. Lisa, too, had only started having orgasms the day before she wound up with Ben. She didn't think it fair in the least to be done with sex so soon.

Lisa seemed to think that a climactic battle with the evildoers was unavoidable, but she doubted if she would be of any use in it. She wanted to help, to contribute to the fight, but she didn't feel confident that she could. She was also frightened that she would come to a bad end if she left Ben's vicinity. Now that the evil side showed their ability to raise the dead, she was very scared of them. She didn't even have absolute faith in Ben's ability to win, anymore.

"Join the club, sweetie," Ben thought.

Ben couldn't believe that neither girl was hung up on the fact that he had been yelling at them, hours ago, over things that weren't their fault. He didn't know if the sleeping Raven felt the same way, but neither Krista, nor Lisa were even thinking about him having suddenly turned into a rage monster and spouted profanity-riddled filth at them.

He was going to humbly apologize, nonetheless. He felt the mind of the FBI agent come into range and focused on it.

The agent was thinking about his wife and her strange reaction to the undead disturbance. Ben felt a bit embarrassed to read in the man's mind the many arguments he had put together in favor of his wife having been cheating on him for quite some time, now. Ben wanted to tune out of the man's silent monologue, but couldn't afford to. He needed to keep listening in if he was to find out what the FBI was thinking about him.

The agent decided that he would just have to weather the coming apocalypse all alone. He imagined his military experience and FBI training would allow him to save quite a few nubile, female survivors that would be most grateful for his heroics. As horrible as the coming apocalypse would probably be, the agent was going to get rid of "the ol' ball and chain" and try to have some fun before the very end.

Finally, the man exited the elevator on the last floor. There were only two doors on offer to him, the stairs to the side and Ben's apartment dead ahead. He pushed the thoughts of his wife aside, for the moment, and reminded himself that the dead had risen, after all. The agent looked at Ben's door and turned his thoughts towards him. If Ben hadn't been an intangible being at the time, he would have sighed in profound relief. The agent opened his folder and skimmed the salient points of his small file on Ben.

The Bureau, Ben learned from the agent's mind, had been ordered by the Attorney General to investigate all reports of the supernatural, no matter how ridiculous they sounded. A scapegoat was needed. If there was a name attached to a report, they were to knock on that name's door and see what they could shake out.

The agent believed that the government was going to hold the modern equivalent of witch trials and that he was tasked with finding likely candidates for burning at the stake. He felt sure that the government would execute some people, if it felt like controlling the masses warranted it. And he might be the one to put someone in harm's way. That thought made him like his job again. After many years of incessant desk-riding drudgery, he felt like he was holding the power over life and death in his hands again. He pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind and focused fully on the matter at hand.

Ben was surprised to learn that he had been reported by Susan, who had come to the Bureau's local offices on Monday morning and denounced him as a mind controller. She had been politely laughed out the door. When the Assistant Director passed down the Attorney General's order, everyone in the office remembered her at the same time and ran a quick background check on Ben.

The check quickly revealed statements from the four young burglars that had broken into Ben's home, weeks ago. Statements in which they claimed Ben had transformed two of them into frogs. Ben could read in the agent's mind that he had felt ridiculous just reading those statements. The idea of a magician living in a shabby house and turning people into frogs was utterly ludicrous on so many levels, undead, or no undead. If one had magical power, why would they want to live in squalor?

When Ben's very large and very recent influx of cash was spotted, everyone's mind changed. The Bureau tagged Ben as a potential person of interest and sent the agent Ben's way. The agent closed his file folder and tugged on his tie. He cleared his throat, crossed the small lobby and knocked on the door.

Krista answered it very quickly and greeted the agent with a polite smile. Ben was a little incensed to read in the man's mind all the things he'd like to do to Krista, but he reminded himself that he had screamed at her and shoved her around, just a few hours earlier. The two of them may as well be broken up, for all intents and purposes. As he saw in the agent's mind the various poses he'd like to put Krista in, Ben had to repeatedly tell himself to not strike out at him in a jealous rage.

The agent smoothly deflected all of Krista's offers of refreshments and repeatedly asked for Ben. Krista bid him to take a seat and walked off to find Ben. Ben was amused to read fear in her mind. She considered the agent to be competent and she feared him figuring out her criminal past if she hung around him for too long.

Ben took one last look inside the agent's mind. He was trying to get a read on Ben from the things he had in his apartment. He was quickly drawing a general conclusion of Ben being nouveau riche. Ben was going to do nothing to dissuade him of such a notion. He flew back upstairs and turned into himself in one of the bedrooms. He checked in the mirror that he hadn't made his circlet appear and walked downstairs.

As he passed Krista, he gently caressed her wrist and whispered, "Thank you." She looked him in the eye and nodded.

Ben walked over to the FBI agent, who whipped out his credentials and said, "Mister Ben Kidder?" Ben nodded. "I'm special agent Daniel Thomas Fitzgerald of the Federal Bureau of Investigations."

Ben approached the agent and extended his hand to shake. The agent was momentarily taken aback, but then put his ID away, moved his folder into his left hand and shook Ben's hand.

"Nice to meet you, agent Fitzgerald," Ben said. "What would you like to talk about?"

"I'm just here to ask you a few questions," Fitzgerald said.

Ben thought that he could see in the agent's demeanor that he was a little angry that Ben wasn't at all intimidated by him and his three name introduction. "Questions about what," Ben asked, gesturing towards the sofa and taking a seat on the couch himself.

Fitzgerald remained standing and ominously said, "Questions about the accusations that have been brought up against you."

Ben had already decided to play the brash young brat that got rich by inventing something new, so he gave his new persona a twirl. He sat back and relaxed with a small sigh. He spread his arms in wordless question.

"As I'm sure you're well aware, mister Kidder," the agent said, with an air of authority, "this nation is under attack by supernatural forces."

Ben screwed up his face. "Nah," he drawled. "I think that was just CGI."

"What," Fitzgerald barked out in disbelief.

"Yeah," Ben said. "It was Computer Generated Imagery. CGI for short. You see, you can take images that-"

"I know what CGI is, Kidder! I'm telling you that that wasn't it! That was real people getting ripped apart by real undead!"

Ben scrunched up his nose and grinned. "Real undead," he asked, stressing the word real.

"Yes, real undead! Didn't you hear the President speak about it?"

Ben gave a small, embarrassed laugh. Fitzgerald looked at him like he was insane. "I don't know about that," Ben said. "This whole thing smells to me like another one of my friends' practical jokes."

"Practical jokes?"

"Yeah," Ben said, smiling. "We get bored, so we pull pranks on one another. Like this, now. My friends made some CGI of a zombie attack and the President giving a speech and..." Ben's mouth dropped as he faked having an epiphany. "And they hired an actor to come play the part of an FBI agent!" Ben laughed heartily. "Where are the cameras?" He looked around his apartment and then started searching Fitzgerald's lapels and buttons with his gaze.

Fitzgerald put on his best air of authority and kept a tight check on his voice as he clearly said, "Mister Kidder, I assure you that this is not a joke, practical, or otherwise. I am a special agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigations and you are under investigation for use of supernatural powers against citizens and interests of the United States of America."

"What supernatural powers," Ben asked, still chuckling in amusement.

Fitzgerald knew exactly how ludicrous his words were going to sound, even after the President had spoken about the undead on national television, but he said them, nonetheless. "You are suspected of using mind control."

Ben stared at the agent for a pregnant moment and then burst into renewed laughter.

"Very well, mister Kidder," Fitzgerald said, reaching for his handcuffs, "you're coming with me and we'll continue this conversation-"

Ben pulled out his phone, stopped laughing and adopted a dangerously serious voice as he said, "My legal team has instructed me in many things." Fitzgerald stood still. Whenever rich people mentioned lawyers, standing still was the wise thing to do. "One of them being that you have to positively identify yourself as a federal agent, or else my bodyguards have every legal right to make your kidneys have an out-of-body experience."

Fitzgerald's brow drew down and he growled, "Are you threatening an agent of the federal government?" He casually swept the tail of his jacket aside, revealing his service sidearm in a hip holster.

"No," Ben calmly said, "I'm pointing out to a two-bit actor that impersonating a federal agent is a felony. Just like concealed carry is in this jurisdiction." Ben drew Fitzgerald's attention to his hand in his pocket. "I'm holding my panic button alarm. If I press it, a group of former special forces operators will show up here in less than thirty seconds. And I pay them handsomely to show up armed and angry. Now, unless you want to be badly beaten and delivered to the actual FBI, I suggest you tell me which one of my friends put you up to this!"

Fitzgerald was a ball of barely suppressed anger as he said, "Mister Kidder, I've already shown you my credentials."

"And you completely blew it by talking about the undead and mind control and... whatever. Now, spill it! Is it Hurley? Chan? Huntzberger? Who put you up to this?"

Fitzgerald wanted to blow the annoying, little pipsqueak away, but he kept his anger in check. The world might be coming to an end, but the Bureau was still operating as usual and he didn't want to meet his end inside a prison, like a chump. He moved his hand from his hip and slowly pulled his credentials out to again show them to Ben. "I am special agent-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Ben said, interrupting him. "I'm the guy that summons a bunch of mean motherfuckers by tapping a button." He held out his hand. "Gimme!"

Fitzgerald placed his credentials in the palm of Ben's hand, glaring the whole time. Ben silenced his phone and pretended to dial a number on it. He faked a conversation with a lawyer whom he asked to run the ID number on the agent's credentials. He pretended to look at a photo that was sent to his phone.

"Huh," Ben finally said. "I'll call you later," he said into the phone and pretended to hang it up. "My lawyer says you're real and that the undead are, too." Ben adopted a completely lost expression on his face. "Oh my gosh!" He looked at the agent with wild eyes. "The President was for real, wasn't he? Oh, dear!"

Fitzgerald relaxed at seeing the kid finally intimidated by him, like he should be. He snatched his ID from Ben's hand and put it away. He barely suppressed his eyeroll as the kid on the couch started to squirm in fear. His eyes were darting all over his apartment, as if he was desperately trying to spot a zombie in time to react.

Fitzgerald sighed. Even if the kid wasn't scared of him, he at least wasn't acting like a brash, young fuck he'd like to slap upside his fool head anymore. He decided to make the questioning short and to the point. He had four more suspects to visit and he was fairly sure those would turn out to be crazy cat ladies. If he did everything quick, he could squeeze in a visit to a divorce lawyer, right before lunch.

"Until recently, you were employed at a call center as an IT specialist. Is this true?"

Ben acted scared and confused. "Huh? Oh! Yeah. Yes. Yes, I was. What does this have to do with the dead rising from their graves?"

"What was the manner of your departure from the center's employ?"

"Huh? Oh, I uh... I quit."

"Why did you resign?"

"I, uh, I made this new design for a machine that turns raw filaments into clothes. It's a very efficient next generation loom. I made a lot of money with it. "

"We would like to see this machine of yours."

Ben focused all of his attention on the agent and firmly said, "Absolutely not! Not without a warrant! That's proprietary technology! You can't go inspecting it!" He picked up his phone again and pretended to dial a number. "I'm having my legal team get a federal injunction against any warrant."

Fitzgerald rolled his eyes. The world was coming to an end and the rich asshat sitting before him went from scared shitless to worried about his profit margin in five seconds flat. He decided to try a different approach.

"Can you tell me something about the events that transpired at your residence on the evening of the twenty third of June this year?"

"What," Ben said in genuine confusion. That wasn't the date that the cops had come to see if he was murdering one of his girls.

"A group of young men claims that they broke into your house on that night and that you turned two of them into frogs."

Ben's mouth opened and he almost said oh as he remembered the four burglars and their great big gun. He quickly recovered and adopted a confused expression. "Huh?!"

"Four men claim that," Fitzgerald said and trailed off. It didn't matter to him that the dead had risen from their graves, asking a man if he turned someone into a frog was still beyond ridiculous.

"What are you on about? Frogs? A break-in? What's going on?"

Fitzgerald's visit was meant to establish if there was a foundation for a public trial and there clearly wasn't. Kidder's income was explained by his invention and the people that made claims against him were far from trustworthy. A disgruntled, former boss, who had been since fired herself, and a bunch of criminals didn't make for great witnesses in a public trial. "Besides," he thought to himself, "the kid's lawyers would humiliate the Bureau and the government and then I'd be the one to suffer the consequences."

"Thank you for your time, mister Kidder."

"You can't go inspecting my machine! It's the basis for my entire business venture. Just by inspecting it, you'd be placing my enterprise at great risk. That can't be allowed!"

Fitzgerald started to move towards the door. "We will not be examining it, sir. There will be no need for legal action."

"Then why did you ask to see it?"

"I'm sorry for any imposition, sir, and I thank you for your cooperation."

Ben held up a finger at the agent as he pretended to speak with his legal team on the phone. Fitzgerald gave him a bland smile, said, "Have a nice day, sir," and slipped out the door, shutting it firmly behind himself. Once outside, he sighed in relief and crossed the small lobby to press the elevator call button. The elevator was still there and the doors opened to admit him inside.