The Rising Dawn, # 24— "Fruitful Interrogation"

“Hostages,” said Yahtzee, “Who’s bad now?”

“They’re captives, not hostages,” said Wraith, “And they’re still the bad ones. I refuse to entertain the thought that we’re in the wrong, even as a joke.”

“Yikes,” said Yahtzee.

Eric Chandler, or ‘Yahtzee’, was experiencing a run of bad luck, which was necessary to use his Gift, which was good luck that paid off after enough bad luck. His bad luck currently came in the form of depression and anxiety, for weeks on end. Thankfully, it wasn’t a life sentence, as he was able to shake himself out of a number of numerous psychoses over the course of his young life. However, his painful gift required him to be long-suffering, and roll with the punches.

Yahtzee was seventeen, three years older than Gimmick. His life had been a long road of ups and downs, the downs seldom overcoming the ups. His parents were screamers, he had a speech impediment and a nervous tic of licking his lips, unto the point where the area around his mouth was raw. His peers had no confidence in him, and he had to learn the hard way through almost every social norm. However, it all paid off all at once more than a few times.

One time, he was the only one who didn’t get a horrendous stomach virus at a school outing because he neglected the permission slip. One time a foul ball missed his head by a centimeter, which would have resulted in head trauma. One time he won a sweepstakes with thousands of entries, granting him his own Playstation 4. One time he played spin-the-bottle, and it landed on his crush after three re-tries. By then, his nervous tic was dealt with. Smoocherooski. 

One time he guessed on every answer on a test and got an A+. One time he found someone’s wallet, and they rewarded him with 100 dollars and a new bike that belonged to a son who had left the state. One time he got a Snow Day on a Friday when he needed an entire weekend to catch up with school-work. One time he found a diamond ring at the beach worth 300 dollars. One time he was dealt a massively improbable winning hand in a poker tournament when he needed money to get him through the next three weeks, as the car he used needed maintenance.

Then there was the fact he was saved by the Dawn Society, the biggest payoff of all. His mother would scream like a banshee over a toilet seat, and his father would scream if he didn’t come to the dinner table quickly enough. His older sister would scream if you didn’t believe men could get pregnant or that any limits should be set on abortion. His mother would broadcast her thoughts without limit and scream if you didn’t listen. His father would scream if the slightest thing went wrong on his computer, as if it was Eric’s fault that computers were the future of society. His mother would do the same thing. His sister would scream if he tried to explain simple academic concepts that she decided “wasn’t her strong point”. They all told him, “I needed to vent, I needed to vent, I needed to vent.”

But Yahtzee resolved when he was twelve that the more you screamed, the more you screamed again. His teacher had caught him at a teachable moment, when Yahtzee had simply complimented Mr. Casting’s teaching style. He said, “If you rescue a hot-blooded person, you’ll have to do it over and over and over again. You know that song, Hot Blooded? Don’t believe in it.”

The Dawn Society had him emancipated by means of the Underground, quietly and stealthily bringing him to Freedom Tower, where people were allowed to let their dinners get cold if they didn’t want to come right away, and the women didn’t explode in a nuclear holocaust when the toilet seat was left up, and nobody blamed computer illiteracy on children.

“Do I have to be here? You’re not gonna cut’em up, are ya?” said Yahtzee.

“This is the information age, and the information they have is worth everything,” said Pointer, his Normy name being Jeremic Fury, “and no, this will not scar you for life. We have ways of making them talk, without pliers.”

“... Pliers?” said Yahtzee.

“Nevermind,” said Pointer, “We can’t afford to let them get away with harvesting the blood of Gifted we’ve already liberated. We could use some luck.”

“Well, I have been kinda bummed lately.”

“I’ll take that as good news,” said Jeremic Fury, who was telekinetic. He was called Pointer because when he used his ability, he did it by pointing.

Wraith, Philosopher, and Parse were with them.

“We already know you’re in the Magister’s brotherhood. We’ve seen your tattoos,” said Parse.

“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way,” said Wraith.

“You ain’t hard,” said Petros, one of the Magister’s trained soldiers, called ‘hoplites’.

Wraith sighed. “To tell you the truth, I’m not hard. Just lazy. Everyone here is,” then, with expert timing, she said, “So lazy that we sometimes forget to feed people. Or give them water.”

“We’ve been through the Trial of the Adder. This is nothing,” said Petros.

“I need to use the toilet,” said another hoplite. Petros cursed at him.

“Toilets are for good little frat boys who thank us for our hospitality,” said Wraith.

Philosopher said, “Tell us which precinct the Outliers are in, and we’ll make you more comfortable.”

“How can you possibly not know which one!?” said the weaker hoplite, Garos.

“Do enlighten us,” said Philos(opher).

Garos sweated while Petros and another hoplite cursed him.

“Come with us,” said Philos gently, “we’ll have a short discussion, and we’ll get you one of those grinders from the cafeteria. I hear the Greeks like their Kalamata olives. And you won’t have to soil yourself, just yet.”

The hoplites had been poorly fed for three days. Garos in particular became nearly feverish when grinders were mentioned.

“Once he gives us the area, I can narrow it down, no sweat,” said Parse, beyond the hearing of the captives.

After they took Garos away, Yahtzee said, “What did you need me for?”

“Just in case,” said Pointer, “Time is of the essence. If we had Gallant, it would be easier, but they might move our Gifted to another location.”

“It’s been three days,” said Eric, also called Yahtzee.

“Well, maybe just having you around in the meantime is all it takes.”

“Maybe,” said Yahtzee, “Is there still sweet and sour chicken in the Cafe? I suddenly have a craving for it.”

There was a slight pause.

“They just stopped serving it yesterday. It’s been two weeks.”

That was just a little unlucky, for Eric Chandler.