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"So, then, I appear to have a problem, don't I?" Alexander Reynolds asked tentatively.
"Yes," said Butler, sounding forlorn. "I'd say that you most definately have a problem. This incident could be explained to the minions fairly easily as simply a loyalty test of some sort, you've done such things in the past. However, it is not simply your actions, but your entire demeanor that seems to have changed. What I am saying is, you simply do not act like our Mastermind. If nothing else, you smile far to much, and are just to friendly. I must say, sir, I'm at a loss."
"Me too." Alexander stood up and did a loop around the large room, examining consoles filled with buttons, read outs, screens, and blinking lights, looking for anything that might ring a bell, but finding nothing. "So if I can't be Mastermind, I must be someone else. I suppose that leaves me with two choices - do everything in my power to rediscover Mastermind so that I can go about doing whaever it was he was doing, or forget about Mastermind and go on with my life. Right?"
The Butler cleared his throut. "Yes, well, there is a small problem with the second option. You - the Mastermind, I should say - was entering a critical stage of his current plan. Shortly, the pieces he had placed in motion would begin to come together in a truly remarkable plan designed to place all of Europe at his - your - beck and call."
"So, what's the problem?"
"The problem is that the only one who knew every detail of this plan was you, sir, and that without you at the helm, the entire project will fall apart. The problem is that if it falls apart, a very large number of people are likely to die, because the only one who knows how to stop the plans progress was you. You were always very careful about such things. Because you were always the only one who knew the abort protocol passwords, the minions couldn't kill you or move against you unless they were prepared to allow very bad things to happen to huge populations. Obviously," Butler tried to keep his voice sounding calm, and the result was a slow, measured tone, "you never expected something like this to happen." He sighed. "I don't know how you could have, really. I assume you have absolutely no idea what might have caused this?"
"I already told you," Reynolds said cheerfully, "that I really can't remember anything at all. Except this conversation, of course, that I remember quite well. Anything much before that, though, is a clean slate."
There was a long, long pause. During the pause, Butler reflected on the history of Europe to this point, and how many people would be very upset if it went away. His master was not a callous or evil man, and certainly had not intended for his plan to actually require the deaths of millions of people. Part of the trick was always to make it look like millions were in danger, when in truth simple appeasement would make teh threat go away as if it had never existed. Furthermore, he was always willing to lose graciously, acknowledging defeat with a "until next time, heroes" attitude that was probably the only thing that had kept him alive all these years. Of course, this is not to say that there had never been any casualties, for there had been. However, a few deaths here and there was one thing, annihalting Iberian peninsula and large chunks of western Europe was quite another.
Alexander, on the other hand, found very little to think about in the long pause. The problem was, there was very little in his mind. It occured to him briefly that he was hungry, and that he wouldn't mind a nice hot cup of tea. It also passed briefly through his consciousness that this was a truly bad situation, and he sincerely wished that there was something he could do about it. Reflection on this point, though, proved to him that he really didn't have any idea what that something might be. It all seemed very unfair, some how, that he was going to be responsible for some sort of disaster that he hadn't even realized was possible and no longer had any control over. Then, from no where, he had a thought. In truth, it wasn't a thought so much as it was the realization of a single word, and the overwhelming urge to say it aloud. With a mental shrug, he saw no reason to hide this word, and so he spoke it.
"Frisson," he said, and Butler turned to blink at him.
"What?"
"Dunno, I just thought it would be a good thing to say. Does it mean something to you?" Reynolds tried not to feel stupid, but it was a struggle. There was just so much he was completely clueless about, especially when it concerned himself.
"Well, no, I just..." but before the Butler could explain, things started to happen. A screen was lowering from the ceiling, the banks of terminals were sealing themselves off, and the room seemed to be shrinking.
Before either could comment on this semi-remarkable change, an image flickered to life on the screen. It coalesced into an image of the Mastermind. He was sitting his desk, his hands folded, back straight, looking very professional. His visage was grim, and from several moments he didn't speak.
"This is a prerecorded message for Butler. I would ask that everyone other than Butler and myself please leave the room at this time." This was followed by a pause, unnecessary because Butler had already emptied the room, but understandable none the less.
"Butler, if you are hearing this, it is because there is a very large problem. Hopefully, you are already aware of this problem and are currently seeking solutions to it. As you are aware, I always have contingencies. Not long before the recording of this message, I had an opportunity to help the Psionicist out of a tight spot, and in return he did a single service to me. Knowing that one of our most formidable foes, Riddle, is a consumate psionic in her own right, it had occured to me that my mind might be vulnerable to her intrusions. Thus, with the Psionicist's aid, I set it up so that if my mind were ever infiltrated and damaged, this word would come into my mind. The word, when spoken aloud, prompts this message to play. Butler, I am afraid that it did not seem practical to have it do much more than this, for if those heroes were ever to learn that if a single word was spoken, they could wreak havock upon whatever plan I was currently working on, they would surely have used all possible effort to obtain this word. Furthermore, from my position in the past, I cannot have any idea just how much damage Riddle - or someone elses - attack may have done. As such, I can only tell you this - I never leave only one option. I expect you already realized this from years as my personal assistant, but I thought it would be worth clarifying. No matter what, there is always a way out."
There was a pause, and slightly smile touched his grim face. "Good luck, Butler."
"Yes," said Butler, sounding forlorn. "I'd say that you most definately have a problem. This incident could be explained to the minions fairly easily as simply a loyalty test of some sort, you've done such things in the past. However, it is not simply your actions, but your entire demeanor that seems to have changed. What I am saying is, you simply do not act like our Mastermind. If nothing else, you smile far to much, and are just to friendly. I must say, sir, I'm at a loss."
"Me too." Alexander stood up and did a loop around the large room, examining consoles filled with buttons, read outs, screens, and blinking lights, looking for anything that might ring a bell, but finding nothing. "So if I can't be Mastermind, I must be someone else. I suppose that leaves me with two choices - do everything in my power to rediscover Mastermind so that I can go about doing whaever it was he was doing, or forget about Mastermind and go on with my life. Right?"
The Butler cleared his throut. "Yes, well, there is a small problem with the second option. You - the Mastermind, I should say - was entering a critical stage of his current plan. Shortly, the pieces he had placed in motion would begin to come together in a truly remarkable plan designed to place all of Europe at his - your - beck and call."
"So, what's the problem?"
"The problem is that the only one who knew every detail of this plan was you, sir, and that without you at the helm, the entire project will fall apart. The problem is that if it falls apart, a very large number of people are likely to die, because the only one who knows how to stop the plans progress was you. You were always very careful about such things. Because you were always the only one who knew the abort protocol passwords, the minions couldn't kill you or move against you unless they were prepared to allow very bad things to happen to huge populations. Obviously," Butler tried to keep his voice sounding calm, and the result was a slow, measured tone, "you never expected something like this to happen." He sighed. "I don't know how you could have, really. I assume you have absolutely no idea what might have caused this?"
"I already told you," Reynolds said cheerfully, "that I really can't remember anything at all. Except this conversation, of course, that I remember quite well. Anything much before that, though, is a clean slate."
There was a long, long pause. During the pause, Butler reflected on the history of Europe to this point, and how many people would be very upset if it went away. His master was not a callous or evil man, and certainly had not intended for his plan to actually require the deaths of millions of people. Part of the trick was always to make it look like millions were in danger, when in truth simple appeasement would make teh threat go away as if it had never existed. Furthermore, he was always willing to lose graciously, acknowledging defeat with a "until next time, heroes" attitude that was probably the only thing that had kept him alive all these years. Of course, this is not to say that there had never been any casualties, for there had been. However, a few deaths here and there was one thing, annihalting Iberian peninsula and large chunks of western Europe was quite another.
Alexander, on the other hand, found very little to think about in the long pause. The problem was, there was very little in his mind. It occured to him briefly that he was hungry, and that he wouldn't mind a nice hot cup of tea. It also passed briefly through his consciousness that this was a truly bad situation, and he sincerely wished that there was something he could do about it. Reflection on this point, though, proved to him that he really didn't have any idea what that something might be. It all seemed very unfair, some how, that he was going to be responsible for some sort of disaster that he hadn't even realized was possible and no longer had any control over. Then, from no where, he had a thought. In truth, it wasn't a thought so much as it was the realization of a single word, and the overwhelming urge to say it aloud. With a mental shrug, he saw no reason to hide this word, and so he spoke it.
"Frisson," he said, and Butler turned to blink at him.
"What?"
"Dunno, I just thought it would be a good thing to say. Does it mean something to you?" Reynolds tried not to feel stupid, but it was a struggle. There was just so much he was completely clueless about, especially when it concerned himself.
"Well, no, I just..." but before the Butler could explain, things started to happen. A screen was lowering from the ceiling, the banks of terminals were sealing themselves off, and the room seemed to be shrinking.
Before either could comment on this semi-remarkable change, an image flickered to life on the screen. It coalesced into an image of the Mastermind. He was sitting his desk, his hands folded, back straight, looking very professional. His visage was grim, and from several moments he didn't speak.
"This is a prerecorded message for Butler. I would ask that everyone other than Butler and myself please leave the room at this time." This was followed by a pause, unnecessary because Butler had already emptied the room, but understandable none the less.
"Butler, if you are hearing this, it is because there is a very large problem. Hopefully, you are already aware of this problem and are currently seeking solutions to it. As you are aware, I always have contingencies. Not long before the recording of this message, I had an opportunity to help the Psionicist out of a tight spot, and in return he did a single service to me. Knowing that one of our most formidable foes, Riddle, is a consumate psionic in her own right, it had occured to me that my mind might be vulnerable to her intrusions. Thus, with the Psionicist's aid, I set it up so that if my mind were ever infiltrated and damaged, this word would come into my mind. The word, when spoken aloud, prompts this message to play. Butler, I am afraid that it did not seem practical to have it do much more than this, for if those heroes were ever to learn that if a single word was spoken, they could wreak havock upon whatever plan I was currently working on, they would surely have used all possible effort to obtain this word. Furthermore, from my position in the past, I cannot have any idea just how much damage Riddle - or someone elses - attack may have done. As such, I can only tell you this - I never leave only one option. I expect you already realized this from years as my personal assistant, but I thought it would be worth clarifying. No matter what, there is always a way out."
There was a pause, and slightly smile touched his grim face. "Good luck, Butler."
