The Deal

The day after my conversation with the Mother of Snakes, they came for me.

They held assault rifles pointed at me, and stayed at least three paces from me at all times. They led me out, down a hall that seemed out of place compared to the room I had been kept. Or perhaps the room was what was out of place. It was a long, white, bare hallway, with lightbulbs hanging on wires from the ceiling, cracks all along the walls. Stains...

They brought me to an interrogation room, and stood there with their weapons aimed at me, their fingers actually resting on the triggers. Either they had never been taught basic gun safety, or they didn't particularly care if they slipped, or they didn't want to waste even the fraction of a second it would take to reposition their fingers if Judas made a move.

A woman in a black pantsuit sat at the table. Blonde hair-- short, coming just below her ears. Blue eyes locked on me. I tried to focus on those eyes instead of the ones on the wall behind her.

Papers were spread out on the table before her. I recognized some of them. A copy of my birth certificate. Copies of police reports I had filled out. There were photos, too. A burning building-- it took me a moment to recognize it as the concert hall. Stills from RossCorp's security tapes, showing my meeting with Reed. Surveillance photos of Ophilim and Mad Ricky.

The woman didn't speak until I had sat down.

"Matthias Stanford," she said. She was reading a paper in her hand. "Went to North-Lake High, from there you went to major in Psychology at Rossfield State. Involved in a car accident when you were twenty that took the life of one Amanda Tarsen; your girlfriend. Following the wreck you switched majors to Criminal Justice. Become a police officer shortly after college. Discharged from the force just a few months ago, after contracting a Dying Man shard during a shootout with the Timberwolves." She placed the paper on the table. "An interesting life," she continued. "Tell me, why did you decide to pursue a career in law enforcement?"

I was silent for a moment. "Who are you?" I asked finally.

"Agent Stone. SMSC. Answer my question, please."

It took me a moment to answer. "I killed Amanda," I said finally.

"I was under the impression that it was the--" she checked the paper "--impact of the shattering windshield and her head against the phone pole that killed her."

"We were intoxicated," I said. "I should never have gotten into that car. I should never have let her ride with me. I--"

"Drunk people aren't exactly known for making informed decisions," she interrupted. I frowned. Another eye had appeared in the table.

"I was underage--"

"Most people are the first time they get plastered."

"She died because of me."

"That still doesn't answer my question."

I stared at her.

Agent Stone smiled at me. "Catholics," she said. "You people and your guilt. Dedicating your life to enforcing the law is not going to right any wrongs you believe you committed. It's not going to bring back your old girlfriend. We've done a thorough background check on you, Matthias. It's been 6 years, and you still have never had another girlfriend-- haven't even had a one night stand. You haven't had even a drop of alcohol since that night neither. You blame yourself for what happened. I get that. But can you do me a favor? Stop.

"I've read your blog-- even your most recent posts. The reason we let you have access to the internet was so we could read it and learn any extra encounters you may have. You have tangled with the servants of the Archangel, a being that can take the form of the dead. You have a Dying Man shard inside you who wants to use you for his own gain, and will use any psychological weakness he can find to manipulate you. Yesterday you met the Mother of Snakes, a being who shows reflections, sometimes true, sometimes distorted. We also know that you've been seeing the Eye as well-- a creature who preys on guilty consciences. Your guilt is a weapon that they will use against you. I'm not going to sit here and lie to you and tell you that it wasn't your fault. You know that it was your fault. What I am going to tell you is that it was a mistake, and you need to get over it. Oh, and for what it's worth? The incident with the hostel, I can honestly say was not your fault. That was all Judas."

My eyes were wide, and felt stuck open. I could feel the tears forming in my eyes. I could feel them running down my face. When I spoke, my voice was choked. "People have died because of me."

"They have," she agreed. "And ever since your girlfriend died, you've tried desperately to make it right. I'm offering you that chance. The government is offering you that chance." She nearly laughed at that. "Given the political and economic climate lately, I don't think I need to tell you how lucky you are about that. So will take it Matthias? Will you take this opportunity to redeem yourself?"

I nodded. "Deal."

"Good. And Judas? If you try anything, we'll trap you in a box and drop you in the Marianas Trench. Capiche?"

"Duly noted."

She stood. "Then I look forward to working with you. Welcome to the SMSC."