Beyond the Bat - You Did Nothing Wrong

March 2068. In the discomfort of his cell, former General H.H. Boost receives an unexpected visit from one the richest, most influential men alive - none other that Reiner Greschnik himself. As his sanity hinges on an emotional support artificial animal, Boost finds himself staring at the abyss, knowing full well the abyss is staring back at him.

Visiting a jail wasn’t something new for Reiner Greschnik. He did that so many times he lost count, proffering invitations to each and every Rapture in person – in several places at the same time. The procedures were different, the paperwork was different, the amount of headaches was more or less the same – even if for different reasons. So, while waiting to be admitted and to be allowed to submit his formal offer, he had started an own personal routine: rating the jail from one to five stars, based on the design, the friendliness of the personnel, the security measures of the cells and some extra parameters here and there to spice the result up. Many two star prisons, some three stars, with four being already a rarity. Five star prisons were mythical black swans – rare, but they existed and were spotted by at least one person around the globe. One star prisons existed too, especially in backwater countries with little respect for human rights. Greschnik’s lips turned into a covert grin. That jail in rural Texas surely was something, first and last time she felt bad for a prisoner. To think that guy would end up sliced and blasted to shreds not even ten seconds into his Rapture…

An automatic door opened, with a green light shining over its metallic structure. Greschnik glanced at it absent-mindedly, watched the warden come out of it in his messy, tired standard uniform, tortured and battered by years of service. His eyes were dull too, he was even a bit overweight and limped on one leg. Greschnik couldn’t help but feel pity for the poor sod – trapped in a job he probably didn’t want just to make ends meet. The warden didn’t strike him as someone who liked to boss prisoners around. If anything, he looked the type that could be bullied by inmates all day long. Such a fascinating and rare sight for his specced eyes.

“Alright, next. Mr. Reiner Greschnik, I take it? Please follow me as soon as…”

Before that depressed excuse of a warden could go on with his canned speech, a hand wrapped in leather shoved him away, almost plastering him against the wall. An arm emerged from the darkness behind the door, then a torso, a bent head. Brown hair, massive yet exceedingly sleek build, brass studs all around his outfit of choice. Greschnik found himself whistling at that unusual sight, smirked with delight, almost clapped his hands. An excited squee escaped his lips too, as a smile radiated with the strength of two thousand suns.

“Oh, dear goodness! Look if it isn’t! Mr. Lorenz! Kristhhoffer! Himself! I read a lot about you and your feats. Truly magnifico! My little excursion today couldn’t start with a better side dish! Isn’t it wond…”

Greschnik didn’t know how plaster tasted until his tongue was forcefully brought so close to a wall that it didn’t have a choice but licking it. It all happened in one instant. The gloved hand that pushed the warden away was now pressing his face against the wall, while a low growl echoed in the room.

“First mistake: you used my full name. Second mistake: you talked to me.”

The grip relented, leaving Greschnik’s mane alone, letting him catch his breath – at least for a second.

“Don’t make a third mistake, Grenny.”

The hand left its mark, as EiN walked away in a hurry, spewing insults under his breath, pushing wardens out of his way while marching forward like a grizzly bear. Greschnik adjusted his high class Valdistrada red shades, dusted off his Mezzalenco red suit, made sure his John Breid’s black shirt felt just right. Interesting specimen, that Kristhhoffer. More animal than man, both in behavior and in appearance. That such a wild savage could be happily married and have children was yet another sign that either God didn’t exist or, if He existed, had a twisted sense of humor. He shrugged, cleaned his cheek, watched at his face in his pocket mirror. His lipstick left no smudge, despite the close encounter with a wall. Good. Dashing as ever. That minor setback wouldn’t sour his mood, the reason he was there. Said reason was waiting for him inside a dark room, separated from the rest of the world by bulletproof gorilla glass. And now, finally, he had a chance to talk with him.

The warden blinked slowly at him, then looked back at the door, then at him again, as if the event that happened in the last few seconds registered just now. He let out a tired sigh, shook his head too for a good measure.

“…please, sir, don’t mind EiN. He’s… a lot to deal with.”

Greschnik smiled, strolled with a leisurely pace.

“Childhood traumas, isn’t it? Men like him are all about daddy or mommy issues. It’s something like that, right? Right? There’s no way that brute doesn’t have a nasty parental trauma! I can smell it!”

“I wouldn’t know. There are rumors, of course, but… yeah, not gonna talk ‘bout it, sir. Otherwise EiN’s gotta make me taste the tarmac, if he gets wind of it. And he will.”

Greschnik patted the warden’s back, let a shrill laugh escape his varnished lips.

“That’s fine, my coward chaperone! I’m not here for him, today! Now go, take me forth to the subject of my cravings, o my totally inadequate guide to the underworld.”

The warden winced, blinked slowly while trying to decipher the man behind the glasses. By the looks of it, if EiN had a childhood trauma (and, according to the rumors, that’s exactly how it was), this Czech millionaire dandy might have been on the receiving end of half a dozen of them. The warden shrugged, let that last statement about his adequacy to the role slide like rainwater. He paced slowly through the well lit corridor, eyeing back to that weird guest every few steps, before stopping in front of a door and turning back to face the source of his current predicaments.

“You have fifteen minutes. The whole conversation will be recorded. I assume you read the guidelines.”

“Of! Course! No touching! No trying to break the glass! And don’t stare at him for too long or he might bite!”

The warden squinted his eyes, shook his head almost imperceptibly.

“Do anything to breach protocol and the next to be hoping for a visit might be you.”

As his hand pulled the handle, the door creaked open, letting light and air enter that sealed room once again. Greschnik wore his best smile. In front of him, stood the reason why he took his private jet to Carthias and then his private limousine to Shard. Just to meet one person. Just to meet him.

The door closed behind him with a resounding thud, leaving him alone inside that small microcosm of despair and broken hopes. So many people stood on his side of the glass, so many on the other. Families destroyed by a single bad decision. Parents comforting their barely adult son after that one night that changed everything. Children being able to see their mother only through an armored window, fifteen minutes at a time – marked by a digital wall clock, ticking down by the second. Greschnik could almost see, smell, touch those stories. They felt real, as if their essence impregnated the fabric of reality all around him, as if they left a permanent trace in the atomic makeup of those walls. Stories, information, never faded. They just became silent. Steps recorded by the tiles on the floor, greasy fingerprints sinking deep into the wooden surface. The cries of infants echoing perennially inside the walls. Reality was a sum of interactions that faded with time without ever dissipating completely. A matrix of sounds, colors, smell, tastes, tactile sensations that got overwritten over and over – and yet leaving something behind. Yes, he was sure of it – nothing was ever truly lost. The seat he occupied held memories of all the guests before him, would hold his memories after he left. Someone able to read reality like that would be able to read the whole history of the world. Someone with that power might as well be considered a god. Of course, though, he wasn’t that god. He could only live in the present. Make do with what life served him. Having to restructure his organization after a catastrophic series of events that lost him two of his best Angels. That’s why he was there, though. Life, sometimes, needed just a little push forward.

“…I guess it wasn’t a prank, huh.”

A tired voice broke his chain of thoughts. A voice from behind the glass, relayed through low quality speakers. Crackling. Riddled with short buzzing interferences. Still, it was his voice. The voice of the man Greschnik came to visit.

“Mister… Greschnik, was it?”

“In shades and suit.”

Once fiery red hair, now marred by white strands all over the place. A tribal tattoo around his right eye. An unshaved beard of three days. An endless abyss in the depths of his irises. Greschnik smirked. Yes. That was the man. That was the person he wanted to meet. The visitor crossed his slender fingers under his long chin, flashing a perfectly white smile.

“I’m pleased to finally meet you, General Boost.”

The prisoner didn’t wince, didn’t even look in his direction. He just answered, almost mechanically, without any emotions left in his throat.

“…it’s just Boost. Not General. I’ve been discharged from the army last year...”

“…for trying to save this planet, n’est-ce pas? Yes, I read! All! Of it. A hero unjustly convicted by our massively flawed justice system, that’s what you are. So, I’ll keep calling you General Boost, if you don’t mind.”

Boost didn’t say anything, shielded himself in silence, watching through the glass in the direction of the weird specimen of human that sought an audience with him. The kind of person who loved the sound of his own voice. The kind of person that did all the talk and exposed themselves as the useless idiots they were the longer they did. Still, an acknowledgment was in order.

“I don’t mind. My… the closest thing I have to a friend still calls me Major Boost. Go figure.”

“That do be the savage brute I met on my way in? How can you stand that rabid dog and call him… friend?”

Boost shrugged.

“Say what you want about EiN, but he’s the only one that comes here every week. Well, my mom too, but you know how mothers are, right, Mr. Greschnik?”

“I’m afraid not. My so-called mother was a swindler that blackmailed my father with her pregnancy and ended up with a nice pair of cement shoes at the bottom of the Danube when I was four. But, hey, sure, it’s nice to hear about happy families, once in a while. But… now I’m intrigued. What does a man of culture like you have to discuss with an untamed beast like that unhinged mutt?”

Boost glanced at the red shades that covered Greschnik’s irises, saw his own reflection on them. The shrill voice of that woefully slender dandy blasted through the speakers on his side, with the usual amount of distortion. Still, the words, the meaning was loud and clear.

“More than you think. Our worldviews are… used to be very similar. We’re still seeing eye to eye about mutants and alien scum, but he’s… more open than me – too much, even. He used to be a very mindful man, you know, seeing society as it should be. Then, he got to know that Veckert Rainer. Now, he’s going to pride rallies with her… as an ally, despite having wife and children. I couldn’t do that even if I wanted – I cracked down on so many protestors with batons and tasers, left many crippled for life. Those were other times, though. Something better left in the past.”

“Boost the Butcher.”

“Nekos and mutants were never meant to have human rights, Mr. Greschnik… but I’m on the losing side of history. The ship has sailed, there’s no genie to put back in the bottle. We failed at keeping mutants under our control. And now? We’re paying the price for it.”

Boost’s voice had became louder, turned almost into a scream.

“Our bloody Queen is pregnant of a neko child! And actively supporting a multi-million pounds lawsuit for better neko contraceptives! There are rumors she’s gonna marry a neko too! A bloody neko as prince consort of the Queen of the United Kingdom! How… did we get to this point? Was I… wrong all along?”

A dry smile opened on his face, as he quietly shook his head.

“Winners wrote the next page. I’m a relic that couldn’t move on and accept a world changing around him, even—even when my older parents did. A failure, if you want. One that will probably never manage to see demihumans as more than a nuisance. I’m a little ashamed of it, even if it sounds hypocritical – there are—there are many good mutants, like Commander Sambiong of Delta Team… but they are just a minority. The silent majority… is as inhuman as it can be.”

He relaxed a little, his body slumped back on the chair.

“…but now, tell me, Mr. Greschnik… why are you here? I usually only get visits from EiN, my mom, and one of my former subordinates – if we discount all the journos that tried to get an interview. Rot in hell, all of them, they should. After convincing people that the goddamn ‘shizas aren’t dangerous, they must die the worst death possible.”

“If that’s what’s needed for me to win your allegiance, I might make that happen pretty easily.”

“Right. Money wins everything, isn’t it, Mr. Greschnik? You sneeze and suddenly New Zeland goes bankrupt. Very funny. Has anyone ever told you that toying with people doesn’t win you any sympathy?”

“Who needs sympathy when you have money?”

“See, that’s exactly what I meant. How am I supposed to trust the word of a megalomaniac idiot that believes he is a god descended?”

Greschnik clicked his tongue, raised his finger. Yet, something caught his attention. Something moving on the other side of the screen. Something small, covered in fur, with a fluffy tail. Something rubbing his tiny head against Boost’s arm.

“Wiiii…”

Something yelping with a strange mixture of a fox and a dog. Boost caressed it, rubbed his cheek against the weird creature.

“You’re right, Sciarpie. He must be a weirdo.”

“Wiii?”

“I didn’t exclude you, come on. You are not coming to visit me – you are with me all the time.”

“Wiii.”

“Yes, don’t worry. The glass is thick. The ‘shiza can’t come here. This is why you are with me, Sciarpie. Because it’s safer here. I can… protect you better.”

Greschnik cleared his throat, coughed a couple of times. Boost glanced at him, without ever leaving the comfort of that warm synthetic fur.

“Yes?”

“I was going to answer your pretty interesting question, but it appears that… we got interrupted.”

“Sciarpie’s not an interruption. He’s my friend. Wherever I am, he is. Wherever he is, I am. Now, state your case of leave me alone, alright?”

The creature that Greschnik couldn’t classify as any living animal rubbed its tiny body against Boost’s chest once again, now laying on the desk among his arms. Which, if possible, made Greschnik even more curious. Still, time was running out. Fifteen minutes were long, but not that long he could allow himself to procrastinate. Straight to the point it was, then.

“Good, I’ll cut the chase: you are the hero I need, General.”

Boost didn’t reply, simply looked at him while petting Sciarpie, waiting for him to continue. Greschnik snapped his fingers, twisted some of his long, platinum hair strands.

“Those horrifying plants… they are all still out there. None of them have been uprooted. And that… Veckert Rainer of yours, she managed to convince the public opinion that they are actually beneficial. Science, she says. Pre-Helsinki noise level. Less glitches. Less ROPES. Everyone is happy, right? But you know who isn’t happy? Real estate owners that lost millions because their lots became worthless overnight. Stock holders that saw the market crash without a recovery in sight. Low income families with children that are forced into subsidized housing close to the ‘shizas. The average Joes that wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about reality-distortion-phenomena. The single income households that saw inflation soaring because the plants have disrupted our supply chain. Yeah, sure, the rekashizas might be good for the world… on a large scale, long haul level. But now? People! Are! Suffering because of them.”

He crossed his fingers, smiled again.

“It’s a bit like climate change, right? Sure, we can save our children, and the children of our children, and the children of their children by reducing emissions – but why must we, we who occupy this planet in this precise pocket of time, suffer to help a future ungrateful generation that calls us names? Isn’t it unfair?”

His smile became, if possible, larger and brighter. Boost shivered. The mouth of Reiner Greschnik looked stretched to the point of almost ripping in half. Almost, but not quite.

“It’s dead simple, General Boost: common people live in the now. Why would a single mother of four on the outskirts of Shard or a factory worker barely getting by in Prague care for a monsoon ravaging Manila? The answer is: they don’t. It doesn’t affect them now. But you know what affects them? The existence of those scary plants! So, in the eyes of those people, you took action to stop a rogue scientist that tried to prevent you from fighting evil! That’s what matters. To them, you are a hero, an unjustly convicted hero. One people are demonstrating for! Fifteen thousand Brits took the streets to ask the government to burn the plant and release you, last month! Fifteen! Thousand! You are a symbol, General! A symbol of hope and everything that’s good!”

Boost growled, almost sank his teeth into his lower lip.

“Sciarpie says the same. He always says that I did nothing wrong, that my intent was correct. But… I murdered a civilian. More than one. And never regretted it. This isn’tt going to change. I’m no hero, Greschnik, no symbol of hope. I shot an unarmed man dead in front of my soldiers. Heroes don’t summarily execute scientists.”

“Oh, I wish they would, though. We need more cautionary tales like yours. Maybe, then, scientists would learn when not to flap their mouths.”

Greschnik leaned forward, rested his chin on the back of his hands. Seven minutes left. An eternity. The blink of an eye. Still a lot to discuss.

“See, General Boost… ethics is overrated. I lost an important specimen years ago just because of ethics. Turns out that scientists are way too eager to do stupid things for their moral grandstanding – like smuggling irreplaceable material away from a lab because of… let’s call it a divergence of views. And then – lo and behold – they all act surprised when the hatchet comes. As if they couldn’t have predicted it. Aren’t you sick of this happening all the time? Because I am, General.”

Boost closed his eyes, crossed his arms around Sciarpie. The lights of the room were way too bright for his state of mind. They made him see details he would have rather not, led his thoughts to places he would rather leave alone. That man sitting in front of him, though, was onto something. His words, as deranged as they sounded, had a foundation of truth.

Sciarpie rubbed his head against him, asking to be caressed more. Yes, asking. It was a miracle. A true miracle. Sciarpie had started to talk. Sciarpie had started to talk and now they could converse, understand each other. And Sciarpie said he did nothing wrong. Sciarpie was right. Sciarpie had to be right. But then, so, did it mean that this Mr. Greschnik was right too? Too many questions. Too many fragments of decisions he could not take lightly. Still, before he could elaborate on his uneasiness, his guest spoke one more time.

“Kronos is a real tyrant, General, one that spares no man. Our little meeting is almost up… but let me ask you one last thing.”

This time, his smile looked even more distorted, even more stretched, almost to inhuman levels, all while the light of the lamps reflected on his specs like a stroboscopic kaleidoscope.

“You want to protect this world, don’t you? That’s why you fought the plant and the Screamers. That’s why you killed that useless manlet, that excuse of a scientist. What if… there were a bigger, badder threat than the plants? What if I could give you a new chance to turn the tables? To defend your country. To defend… your Sciarpie.”

Boost tapped his finger on his shoulder, without his hand ever leaving Sciarpie’s head. He stood silent. He didn’t humor the man on the other side of the glass. He didn’t react at all. So, Greschnik went on. And pushed a small button on his sleeve.

A crackling noise blasted through the room, all of the speakers shrieked in unison – a high-pitched scream that went on for three interminable seconds. Before the cameras went dark. The neon lamps went dark. Green emergency lights blitzed through, for one long instant. Boost covered his ears, blinked in the shadows. Greschnik’s smile. Was now wider than his face. Floating in the dark. Ripping his skin apart. Twisting his muscles. His teeth. His bleeding gums. In a grotesque mockery of a human figure. And Sciarpie. Sciarpie was also smiling. The same smile. The same smile as Greschnik. The same lips. The same gums. The same teeth. Getting wider. Wider. Wider. Boost fell from his chair, screamed, rolled on the tiles, ran to the exit door.

Darkness dissipated. The lights came back. He stopped his hand from banging on the metal plate, right at the last instant. Turned around. Slowly. That picture. That picture of Sciarpie smiling with human teeth. It was too much to bear. It couldn’t be right. It couldn’t be correct. He needed to know. He needed to see. So, he turned. Around. To look.

And Sciarpie.

Was fine.

Staring at him.

With his innocent eyes.

“…General Boost? Is everything finey-fine?”

“I…”

The cameras, though. Were still down. Blinking red. Recovering. The mics were down too, maybe. And that’s when Greschnik spoke again. Whispering. Letting the speakers parse his message, convey it at the lowest possible volume.

“The devsks have been developing bioweapons in secret. Bioweapons as harmful as the plants. Or, maybe, they developed the plants too – bamboozling us with that ‘shadow gallery’ thing-y. All under the ‘Lilith’ project, General. I have evidence of it. They’ve been preparing for decades. And they are going to invade us soon. They’ll find a pretext to take over this planet. And, without you, we’ll be completely lost. You can be our trump card, General. And protect your Sciarpie.”

The devsks. Space lizards. Alien invaders. Boost’s blood boiled at their mention. He crunched his fist, tried to breath. Sciarpie with human teeth. He shivered. That picture. That picture wasn’t fading. He breathed again. And again. Slowly. Slowly. The picture dissipated. One line, one splotch, one pixel at a time. Slowly. Slowly. Before it disappeared. Completely. Utterly. Boost breathed. Breathed. An episode. He had an episode. It happened. Every so often. Nothing serious. Nothing serious at all. It just happened. But he couldn’t say it, or his therapist would take Sciarpie away from him. That was obviously unacceptable. Inhale. Exhale. Now, now, back to the words. Back to what Greschnik said. Inhale. Exhale. The devsks. An alien invasion. That was possible. But what if the plants really…? It didn’t make sense. The shadow dimension had nothing to do with the devsks. That was plain wrong. And yet…

Inhale. Exhale.

The cameras went live again. The LEDs turned blue one more time. The mics came back to life. And Boost’s voice finally left his throat.

“…even if I wanted to help you, I’m stuck here for the time being. I have no chance of getting a light sentence and I’m gonna spend years behind bars. So, tell me, Greschnik… how would you make good of your promise? I’m too old to take part in your Rapture. I don’t have the strength to fight… and my government doesn’t deal with your barbaric means of execution.”

“Oh, but the Rapture is just smoke and mirrors – a convenient way to filter out the trash, General, and get some unexpected raw gems out of it. Some of my Angels didn’t even face a chaingear… and those who did had a fight rigged in their favor. Well, except the first, that is – that one won fair and square, yes? I tell you, General, Nadia Nagase is one of a kind. One. Of. A. Kind. Even more precious than you, in the grand scheme of things.”

The clock on the wall struck fifteen. A loud buzzer echoed inside the room. Time was over. Greschnik stood up, dusted off his jacket, smirked at the man behind the glass.

“Still, if I sneeze enough, maybe someone will take notice… and let me handle your case.”

The door behind him opened, letting the same apathetic warden walk inside the room.

“Bye for now. I’ll be back next week for your answer. Ciao ciaoissimooooo!”

Greschnik snapped his fingers, followed the man out, waving his hand in a sort of last greeting to the prisoner.

Leaving Boost alone in the room, alone with his Sciarpie.

In silence.

And, in that silence, Boost glanced at Sciarpie, at his innocent gaze, at his sweet face.

“…what should I do, Sciarpie?”

Sciarpie tilted his head, yelped. And thus talked to him, with his tender, delicate voice – a voice only Boost could hear.

“He’s right, you know, H.H.? You’re a hero. You did nothing wrong.”

Boost nodded, patted his fur, combed it with his fingers.

“I did nothing wrong, yes.”

“You did the right thing, H.H.! Those plants are evil! And the alien lizards are so scary! You did it to protect me! I’m so grateful to you!”

“I did the right thing, yes.”

“So…”

Sciarpie rubbed his cheek against Boost’s hand, licking its palm.

“…it’s time to save the world, H.H.! Only you can do it!”

“But what if I kill… again?”

Sciarpie smiled, smiled and giggled, twitched his ears.

“What is one more corpse on top of a mountain of bodies, H.H.? One, two… is it even going to make any difference?”

“…no, it isn’t.”

Boost caressed Sciarpie once again, hugged him, held him in his arms. Yes, whatever happened, he couldn’t stay put. Sciarpie was right. Sciarpie was correct. He couldn’t let all of what he did go waste. But trusting that manchild of Reiner Greschnik? That sounded like a deal with the devil, one that could end up burning everything to the ground, him included.

He grinned, while still holding Sciarpie tight.

As long as his country was safe, nothing else mattered.

As long as his mom was safe, nothing else mattered.

As long as Sciarpie was safe, nothing else mattered.

Only Sciarpie.

Just Sciarpie.

Sciarpie.

His mind became suddenly clear.

Now he knew what he would reply.

He knew what his path was.

The only possible path he could walk.