O l i v e r B e n j a m i n
“Did that cure your fuckin’ amnesia, dork?” Cain taunted, “Or do
I have to hit you again?”
A wobbly moan drifted up from the wreckage.
Cain pulled the chair back up to its original position.
“I’m sorry, but this doesn’t seem to be a fair fight. Could I speak
with my trainer please?” Harvey groaned.
“You want a fair fight?” replied Cain. “Okay, let’s fight fair.” He
cut the ropes that bound Harvey and bade him to stand up, which he
did, swaying slightly. Cain then quickly adopted a
skiko-dachi
stance.
Cain was pretty sure that was Japanese for “It is my most honorable
wish that you have no great attachment to your testicles.”
Meanwhile, Harvey opted for a more traditional American
combat approach. “Hey!” he yelled fiercely, “Your shoe is untied!”
“Well then it’s a good thing I’m wearing loafers!” Cain replied
and kicked Harvey squarely in the balls. He stepped back as the
scientist collapsed to the ground. As most people do when watching
such a situation on television, Cain allowed himself a good, hearty
laugh.
It seemed that Harvey was laughing too, but he was really just
crying extremely loudly, sprawled on the floor in a fit of mortal
agony. Testicles on the outside of the body—what kind of God could
have perpetrated such careless design?
After he had recovered somewhat and been helped back into the
chair, he was greeted with this nifty piece of news: If he didn’t level
with them, things would get worse. Much worse. Harvey had already
seen the sinister things that they were capable of, and knew that they
weren’t bluffing. Harvey tried to imagine what he could have done to
deserve such rotten luck, and he figured that this was the price you
paid when you tried to steal fire from the gods, and though he would
have loved for someone to take it off his hands, he certainly couldn’t
pass it over to these cretins, else risk starting a forest fire of inferno
proportions in which humanity as he knew it would end up extra
crispy.
He tried to think of what to do, but Barth soon showed him the
futility of any kind of thought when he produced from a box the very
futuristic headset that Harvey himself had helped design.
“Maybe this can help jog your memory. Recognize it?”
Harvey shook his head, a drop of sweat flinging itself free from
his swollen, bloody nose.
Cain took the headset from Barth, placed it on Harvey’s
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