The Frustration of Being Good

An Eighth Caustrian Tale

Part 2

         "When the last time you merc'ed for the hell of it, man? I mean, just to scare the hell out of some hick."

         Target raised an eyebrow slightly, but never looked up from his gun polishing. His tracking senses told him Naomi had just appeared in the room and was probably sitting on the stool in front of him. She was good, but she wasn't perfect.

         "A while," said Target smoothly.

         "Y'ever miss doing it?" she asked.

         "Sometimes."

         "Y'ever think about doing it again?"

         "Yeh, eva onct in a while," Target said. He smiled to himself, sensing what she was getting at. He and Naomi were almost kindred spirits in this field, something that never ceased to annoy his wife. Robin liked to have reasons for terrorizing people and killing and the like, which had made her more neutral than anything in her youth and had changed her attitude to a preservationist standpoint as she grew older.

         Target didn't much care for reasoning, nor did he do much of it. As long as it was fun, it had a purpose. Evil had been a natural part of his heritage and lifestyle for so long he hardly blinked an eye at it. Of course, maturity and fatherhood had changed this opinion somewhat, mostly for the benefit of his wife and kids. Otherwise...

         "Well, like, say you were totally fed up, right? Bored outta your skull. And say, like, you'd been pretty good for a while and you started to feel like maybe you wanted to cut loose again. What would you do?" asked Naomi.

         Target considered this carefully. Apparently Naomi was still having difficulty with the concept of repercussions. Admittedly, it had taken Target less time to get this through his head, but again, having a family helped. It wouldn't help to chastise her; this would have to be one she learned on her own. "Well," he began aloud, looking up thoughtfully, "I guess I'd find me a new place to cut loose and do it."

         "Well, how do I...I mean, how would you go about doing that?"

         "Ask Daina to make yeh a door to someplace new and get something to get back with," replied Target.

         "Yeah, but Dee won't just make me a door so I can go wreck the lives of innocent people," said Naomi, realizing she wasn't fooling him with her "hypothetical" questions.

         "Don't tell her."

         "What, like...lie about it?"

         Target gave her a condescending look."Yeh know how, don't yeh?"

         "A'course I know how!" she exclaimed indignantly. "What are ya, new?" She flashed out of the room without thanks, something Target never expected, anyway. Target shook his head and went to go inform Daina of the upcoming news.

          

 

         I frowned deeply at the computer screen, trying desperately to capture the entire Mayra-J.R. fiasco on paper. I suppose I should've known that before I had even finished one story yet another would pop up. As my fingers flew over the keyboard, I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my head, causing me to suck in my breath. I gritted my teeth as a sound not unlike an old CB radio tore through my head.

         I have ta talk to yeh, came Target's voice through the static.

         "You couldn't have just wrote me a letter?" I moaned...then I fainted.

         There was the normal moment of slight disorientation as I passed from actual reality into my subconscious reality, then I found myself in my room. I looked around and found Target sitting rather casually in my office chair. "Dude," I said, massaging my temples in remembrance of the pain, "you need to get this calling me thing down before you try and get in touch with me again, 'kay?"

         "I don't ever use it, so I don't need to practice," shrugged Target.

         "Well, you used it just now, so apparently you need it for something," I said wryly.

         "Actually, I's just informin' ya that Naomi'd be coming your way with a desire to cut loose again."

         "Huh?"

         "Naomi's bored. She's wantin' to return ta her old ways a while."

         Immediately, I was hacked off. "Well, she can just..."

         "Now, 'ear me out before you blow yeh top," said Target, raising a warning hand. "Naomi's been kinda cooped up a while doing things unnatural tuh her, so she's bound to need a break fer a while."

         "But, Target..."

         "I'm not saying she should or shouldn't, I'm just askin' yuh to see where she's comin' from."

         "But she's gotta know doing stuff like she used to just isn't right! I mean, whether she likes it or not, rules aren't always made to be broken. She's not thinking of the consequences or the people involved or any of that!" I sputtered.

         "Exactly," said Target. "That's why you need to let her go."

         "What?!" I demanded.

         "You and Naomi are a lot alike. Yuh both have to learn through experience. If you try and tell ol' Naomi she's wrong, she's bound and determined to prove she's right. The only thing that'll make her change her mind is to find out how wrong she is herself."

         "How?" I asked, sitting on the bed.

         "Well, I'm no head shrink, but I'd say if yeh put her somewhere where she really can't cause that much trouble and where you can make her learn why she can't do the things she wants to..." He paused, letting the thought sink in.

         "Then she'd understand instead of just hear and I wouldn't have to go through this anymore!" I finished, the light suddenly dawning. "Target...you're incredible!" I frowned in surprise, realizing that this much insight on his part was extremely uncharacteristic. "Hey, man, you're not, like, maturing on me, are you?"

         "Nahhh," said he, chuckling as he rose to leave. "Yeh get this stuff coming to yeh when yeh've got time to see it. By the way," he added, leaning back in, "yeh might tell Christine that snow in the hallway ain't as safe as outdoors."

         Impressive, I thought as the door closed. I'm diggin' this random character development stuff. I turned to my keyboard and began to work on a few intake stats. It was probably better if I didn't look as worried as I was about this when Naomi came in.

         She finally knocked at the door and I grinned a little. Why make this easy?, I thought to myself. She's made me go through hell before, too! "God-dammit, this better be important," I fumed aloud for Naomi's benefit, then I flung the door opened and demanded, "What?"

         Naomi gave me a semi-surprised look. "Ya busy?"

         "Yes," said I, trying to close the door.

         "Come on, this'll only take a second," she pleaded, blocking the door.

         "I don't have a second."

         "Well, just send me somewhere and I won't bother you anymore, I promise. And get me a way back." She looked at me hopefully and I glared at her, then glanced over my shoulder.

         "Gimme a minute," I said, trying to close the door.

         "For what?"

         "'Cause I said!!!" I snapped, pushing her out of the doorway.

         "Aww, Dee, come on...!" she began, as I closed her out.

         5 minutes later, I turned off my Walkman and went to the door.

         "Still there?" I asked, opening it.

         "What's it look like?" she replied sarcastically. "What're you stallin' me for?"

         "'Cause I can," I grinned.

         "Look, all I'm asking is..."

         "You can go," I interrupted.

         "I can?!" she gasped.

         "Yep," said I. "Take Marcus with you."

         "What?!"

         "He goes with or you don't go," I replied.

         "Aww, Dee..." Naomi began.

         "I'm serious."

         Naomi groaned. "Fine, where's the door?" she asked.

         "It'll appear when you two are ready to go...together," I said, closing the door back.

 

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