Queen Bee Gains Another Worker
Summer 2021, Week 2
Wednesday evening
The Red Door, Downtown
Barnaby Swaxx
Barnaby walked in hurriedly. He ignored the looks of people around him as he limped in, clutching the bag to his chest. He was wearing the same clothes he'd worn in the morning: after his run-in with David, he was afraid to go anywhere that could be tied to him, so he spent the rest of the day on the street, pretending the flaming pain in his leg wasn't bothering him. If nothing else, he was glad there was no blood. However, by the way it hurt when walking, he was pretty sure the internal bleeding wasn't minor. Every time his thigh even brushed against his worn jeans, it hurt bad enough to make the edges of his vision fuzzy. He scanned the locale, looking for Dallas. We're not meant to meet today... He could be nowhere near. His breathing got faster and more labored as the emotions of the people around him surged all at once. It tasted like everything at once. Like static. His tongue was under assault by thousands of tiny missiles, like he'd just drank gasoline with carbonation. Too much of it. He ran -or, rather, hobbled- to the bar. A couple complained as he erupted between them to look at the bartenders, who shot annoyed glances at him. All but one, whose eyes flashed with recognition. The server that had been with them on the first meeting. He all but leaped over the countertop, sharply inhaling through his teeth as his battered limb met the hard wooden lip. Through the pain, he grabbed the server's collar and spat out some words through a grimace. "Take me to the man in red."Dallas Lock
Steven loved working at the Red Door. His manager never bothered him for the sole reason that they weren't really his boss. Steven, the lucky duck, turned out to have caught the eye of the owner of the bar and had become his own personal server. Every morning, Steven would check his phone to look for a text that said a time. He'd toss on his uniform and head to the bar an hour ahead of time to make sure the drink garnishes were ready, the bottles prepped, and the room cleared. Then he waited for the man who always tipped in $100's to arrive. Today he was waiting for a meeting to conclude, so he squinted his eyes at Barnaby when he spoke at first. Recognition filled his eyes and he frowned. "Give me a moment, sir. I'll see if he's in." Of course he was in. But Steven learned that occasionally the bosses contacts would pop up unscheduled and usually they were for a good reason. The appearance of the man in front of him screams 'Good Reason.' A few minutes passed before Steven returned and told him to follow him back to a private room. Opening the door, he revealed Dallas sitting beside a giant of a man. "If you'll excuse us, Greg, I think another meeting just arrived. Tell your boss that I'm fine with that plan, but to keep it clean. We don't need another debacle like last time. If the loners don't bend, then he can take other avenues. And that I'll see him soon." The huge man just nodded, before slowly extricating himself from the booth and squeezing past Steven and Dr. Swaxx and making his way out of the bar. "Take a seat, Doctor. And maybe a drink. You look like you've seen better days."Barnaby Swaxx
The man's calm voice and his playful tone were grating to Barnaby's ears. There was just... so much. Today had been a rotten day, and he'd clearly been on the lucky side. A wrong move, and he might have been behind bars by now. Despite his sudden urge to punch Dallas in the face for no other reason than his being there and having a face, he opted for civility. More like cowardice, the little voice in his head nagged again, somewhere deep down behind thick curtains of shock, pain, and worry. He sat down and winced visibly as his right leg seemed to swell to ten times its size, the expensive seat pushing against what he suspected was an ugly bruise. He took a few seconds, breathing quick and shallow, before he stopped hurting as badly. Dabbing away at the copious amounts of sweat he'd managed to gather up in the past two minutes, Barnaby looked up at the man across from him before letting his arms go limp next to his body and collapsing on the seat with the rigidity of a bearskin rug. A sliver of voice, thin as surgical string, made its way through his lips. "I got got. Badly. I don't know why I thought I could do this, Dallas. Because I can't." This next part hurt him deep down, in the little seed of an ego he'd been watering ever since the first hit, "Not alone." He limply pointed at the bag on the floor as he felt what he suspected was a fever coming on. "Here's the rest, and then some." "Help me, please."Dallas Lock
"To be expected." The man watched as Barnaby struggled to move himself into a sitting position. The beads of sweat on his face, the exhaustion riddling his features. All of it was taken in by eyes framed behind a drink being raised to the man's lips. His voice had lost the light humor and now weighed heavy as if truth taken from scripture. Pulling the bag over with a foot, Dallas opened the bag. Everything was there. Content. "When people shake off the shackles of a weak society, they all make the same mistake. They try and break society by themselves. What they always forget is that society bites back." He drops the bag back on the floor and crosses a leg as he finishes off the gin and tonic, having opted for a new flavor today. "Very few live long enough to realize the error of that belief. And even fewer admit it. Now, Dr. Swaxx, I can help you. Obviously, you know that, but I doubt you understand the full scope of what I'm able to do. What I command. Which is fine. That's how I like it." "But before I offer to strike an accord you will answer me this." Indifference--Merciless. Dangerous. There was something in the tone heavier than the joking smile or even calm words used when talking business. The weight of a test, where a wrong answer could result in an unwanted ending. "Help you be 'what'?"Barnaby Swaxx
"I..." The question took Barnaby by surprise; he'd walked in ready to give himself up - to become putty that the evil man in a suit could mold into whatever he liked - and now he came to the realization that he wasn't expected to give up, but to do something much harder: take a stand. What did he want to be? "I want to be strong." It hurt, saying that. Admitting that he was weak, even though he knew it. "I want people to take me seriously. To listen." In his mind, he was a little boy again, looking at a row of ants milling about. They were all talking to each other, relaying a message from a singular, young ant all the way back to the hive, possibly to the queen. None cared that the one who had spoken up was young, or different. At the end of recess, he would back inside and be called a freak by his desk mate for another two hours. "I want to change the world," his eyes began to shine, moist, as he pressed his lips until they were white to keep them from quivering. "I want to make it humble, and respectful. I want to make it listen. But I can't. I'm just an annoying mosquito in their ear at night. I make them uncomfortable, maybe even angry. But they forget all about me the next day." His voice becomes crystal clear, and there's a certain majesty in his desperation as he looks Dallas dead in the eye, his body still limp and sore and yet bigger than he's ever seemed before, like swelling gray clouds before a storm, full of power and ill omens. "Help me be someone they can't ignore."Dallas Lock
Cold eyes rested on Barnaby. Assessing. Assessing. Satisfied. Standing slowly, Dallas vanished from the room. About thirty seconds later, he reappeared with a briefcase in his hand. Setting the briefcase on the table and opening it in his own direction he started to go through it as he spoke. "Any other answer and one of two things would have happened. First, I would have left here without business concluded. The other, well, let's not ruin a good moment." He pulled out a card, and an envelope. "Let's be clear with each other, Doctor." Sliding the two items across the table, he closed the briefcase but stayed standing. "Until you have power you will never be respected. That's the cruel reality of this world. Even with power, respect isn't a guarantee. Admiration, Empathy, Fear. Those are the three most common ways to earn respect." moved around the room slowly, almost pacing but still looking at Barnaby, assessing him. "Only you can truly make yourself respected. And only you can make them listen at the end of the day. But I can give you the tools to train those skills and the opportunity to acquire that power." The last sentence was heavier than the rest, made more clear by Dallas leaning in to convey the point. "I can help you get the opportunities to make that a reality. Wealth, power, recognition. This is what I will give you, not might, will. Respect, authority, admiration. Those are things you can earn by working for me." On the card was his name, Dallas Lock. It wasn't a plastic card but done in a red tinted metal with the word 'Associate' underneath it. "So, I have another question for you, Doctor. Will you work for me doing everything that entails?"Barnaby Swaxx
Dallas Lock. It's not a bad name, Barnaby thought. He went over the card a few times in his head, as if trying to focus on anything but answering the question. His mind slipped back to Dallas' previous guest, Greg. A man so big, and cold-looking. He'd stopped himself from thinking that, but there was a high chance Greg killed a man. A chance he might have to as well. Was he ready to do that? Don't kid yourself. You made a man pass out earlier this week and you were so anxious your stomach hurt. You had nightmares about it. You're no killer. "I will," he surprised himself answering, even though every bit of his brain was sounding alarms telling him to back out. This was the first time he'd become independent, had a thing that was his. He was used to following people around, doing errands. His post-doctorate work had become a glorified coffee run after the first few years. Always with the promise of something more. They dangled a carrot just outside of his reach and had their fun watching him jump around trying to get it. At least Dallas seemed upfront, for now. What he said and what he felt matched, which was more than one could say for half the "decent" men in this city. He was a queen worth following. Slowly, the room grew dimmer as Barnaby began to call every insect in the vicinity as he spoke. They abandoned their spilled sugary drinks and kitchen leftovers to crawl in through the gaps in the woodwork, making their way to the ceiling. They began to walk on the light fixture, some of them slipping and falling, and others burning away under the intense incandescent heat. As he finished, the whole room was covered in swirling, busy shadows that crossed over both of their faces. "What do you need me to do?"[Basic, -0EP]
Dallas Lock
Looking around, his eyes seemed to widen. Not in fear or concern, but admiration. Impressed. "We'll need to go over what exactly you can do with them. I have more than a few ideas if you can manage it. Well, not you I suppose, them would be the better identifier. I believe with enough practice your only real limitation is what they can accomplish. But still...impressive." Dallas had moved close to the wall the examine the many types of insects crawling on it and flying around. Thoughts. Planning. Potential. "The first thing I need you to do is freshen up. Nothing wrong with how you are on your own, but I'm a firm believer in many things, two of which are if you dress like you're powerful you feel powerful, and that a well kempt team is an efficient team." He pulled up the bag from the floor, waiting for the few insects to drop off it, and pulled it onto the table. Slowly, he took out stacks of bills until $20,000 was on the table. "You'll take this and go to the few places listed in the envelope. Tailors, jewelers, that sort, get yourself a new wardrobe. Benefit is they can also customize so you can add in what you need for normal attire in terms of safe measures." Dallas hinted. He wasn't entirely sure what the Doctor used to control the bugs beyond his abilities, but he struck him as a man prepared. "After you get that sorted, you'll meet with my other new associate. She's doing a few jobs for me, and I want you to assist on the last one dealing with a clinic and a potential deal to be struck. That job pays $5,000 by the way, the standard fair for simple jobs like that." Zipping up the bag he set the briefcase next to it, eyes still tracking the few insects across it like a kid looking at an anthill. "Then you'll wait. I don't send my people out on milk runs, at least not my associates. I have staff for that. When I need something important done, you're who I'm going to call."Barnaby Swaxx
Barnaby's hands didn't shake anymore. He either found some courage, or he was too exhausted to even bother with insecurities. He grasped the bills in his hands. They felt hefty. He earned them, in a way. No, not in a way. They were his, because he'd put in effort, sweat. Blood, he thought, looking at his battered leg. "Safe measures?" He flagged down Steven and ordered one of what Dallas was having -not before scattering the bugs away. Is this man sending me off to get shot at? "I don't know what you expect of me, but I'm not a spry young man. I don't think I've done any exercise in the past few months, aside from running away chased by superhero wannabes." There was spite in his voice. Resentment. "If what you want is information? Subtlety? I can do that." He took a sip of the alcoholic beverage and grimaced as it soaked his parched throat, corroding away at the small cuts inside his mouth. Must've been a harder fall than I thought. "Brawling around like a cocky teenager with too much to prove? No way. I'll be squashed. Like a bug in a windshield." He slowly gestured down with his index finger, squashing it on the table. He looked deep into his drink, like it might have answers down there somewhere. "I'm afraid I'm not that useful of a man, Mr. Lock."Dallas Lock
"If that's what you think, then I don't have any use for you, Dr. Swaxx." Dallas said coldly in reply, his attention snapping up from the bugs. His eyes bore into the other man, as he spoke slowly. "If you believe you're useless, then you are useless. I offered you a position because you didn't strike me as useless. You struck me as a man with determination, with potential. You're not spry, no. You can get better. You're not strong, I'm aware. But you have power." He started moving closer to Barnaby as he spoke, each word said with intensity just as his thoughts confirmed. Listen. Understand. Comprehend. "What I need from you is a person who walks into a room and gets people to obey. I don't want you to fight. I want you to step into a meeting room, tell people who you work for, and get them to do what I demand them to do." He was inches away, eyes still locked on the Doctor's. The coldness started to seep away, and now his voice was carrying a tone of understanding. "I know that all your life people have told you otherwise. And maybe I am the first to give you a chance to prove them wrong. I won't ask you to, I'm telling you to. Be useful. Become someone who causes CEOs to shudder and Politicians to open the door for them. I accept nothing less. Understand?"Barnaby Swaxx
Barnaby gulped, maybe loud enough that Dallas could hear it. The small bout of confidence he had was shattered, but there was something much more powerful brewing within instead: determination. He lifted himself out of his seat, trying his best to hide the twinge of pain that ran like alcohol, cold and aflame, up from his leg and into his side. He drank the rest of his drink in one go, holding Dallas' stare. Barnaby's eyes were not very big. They sat on his face like pins on a cushion, beady and dark and sunken under curtains of skin lowered by age. But there was something in them for the first time in a very long time. No more weaknesses. No more flinching and hiding. Can I even do that? It didn't matter. He had to. "You got it, chief." As he headed for the door, His limp no longer seemed awkward and labored. He walked like he'd had it all his life. Much like a tree which, after being cut of its weaker branches, grew stumps and calluses in their place that could withstand it all. He turned around at the doorway and pointed to the garish yellow bag. "My suit's in there somewhere." There was a pointy yellow and black antenna poking out of the open zipper. "Get it back to me whenever you can." He turned around to Steven, who was standing off to the side next to him, and slapped one of the $100 bills on his chest, pointing to Dallas. "His next one's on me." Then, to Dallas, "I wouldn't handle the suit around ants, by the way. Just a heads up."
Type
Record, Historical
Medium
Digital Recording, Text
Authoring Date
June 30, 2021
Authors
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