The Man Behind The Curtain

They say that they never look how you expect, that when you meet someone that you've only heard about for the first time it's always a shocking experience, trying to resolve to idea with the flesh.

They lied.

I look at Red sat on the other side of a one-way mirror and he looks exactly how I imagined him. A little scrawny. A haggard face that screams of his need for attention. A fire behind his eyes that burns with fanaticism.

Except none of those things are there. Just the scrawniness. Physically, he's the perfect image of what I thought he would be, but his energy. it's seems lacking and I'm disappointed that this little victory of mine has defeated him so utterly. A more paranoid man might think this was someone else, after all, how would I ever know? Surprisingly, there were no photos of him in his home, though the geeks say that this isn't uncommon for a single white male.

Oh well, you have to trust in your tools to be a good workman. The real test will come when I speak to him. They will be moving him soon to a more secure facility, the local polce station not being deemed secure enough for a terrorist. I'll talk to him during the trip, for now, I'm content to watch and gloat from behind a screen, the Wizard of Oz.

After a few hours of hearing reports and drinking coffee, we are on the road and I have Red to myself in the back of an armoured van. He is chained to the railings, head down in his orange jumpsuit while I sit comfortably in the far corner along with a guard, unfortunately. Security must be upheld.

"Hello Red, or would you prefer Jeremy?"

"I'd prefer you go screw yourself, but I guess you're a little too old for your tastes."

"Cute. Is that really the best you have to say, what ever happened to the famous wit of Red Five? Not so clever without a can of spray paint in your hands are you? You'll be going away for a long time for what you've done Jeremy. I've made sure of it."

Red begins to reply when we suddenly stop. The guard opens the hatch into the front and the back of his head explodes onto the far wall, covering it with a filmy red paste of blood and brains. I look to Red, anger and shock on my face.

"You did this, one of your little friends!"

The door slams open and Red smiles smugly even as his brains suddenly joins the grisly collage on the van's interior. I look into the face of his killer with a horrible recognition as he stoops in and grabs my arm.


The End

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