by Bloodthirstybutcher » Sun Feb 26, 2023 2:45 am
Part 12-"The Broker's Collection"
"Come now, Ms. Spaak. Speak up," The Broker insisted. "A dialog about this predicament we find ourselves in is imperative... well, I should say it's more YOUR predicament than it is mine. So... when I place a question before you, I do expect an honest and prompt reply."
DeTorres's tone was calm but stern, as though talking down to a misbehaving child. Imogene wiped the berry juice coating a good portion of her face across her forearm, smearing the sticky substance more than removing it. Rolling his eyes at her less than formal eating habits, Emil promptly removed a wet nap from the same drawer that hid the scanner. He ripped open the square packet that held it, unfolding the clean smelling moist sheet within as soon as it was removed. The giant tore off a small corner and offered it to his shrunken dinner companion, then dabbed neatly at the corners of his own mouth an equal number of times with what remained.
As Imogene cleaned herself off, she forced out an answer to The Broker's inquiry, "I-I don't know." She wasn't lying exactly. She hadn't the faintest idea what treasures lay beyond the vault door... but she knew it wouldn't be enough of an answer to satisfy a man like DeTorres.
"You don't know?" Emil chuckled. "Surely you must have some inkling? Come now... humor an old man."
"I don't know...," she repeated, "money? Jewels maybe? Gold and silver... artifacts?" Imogene didn't know where this game was going, but she did know hated being talked to like a child, her diminished stature be damned. Snapping back at him wouldn't do her any good, not if she hoped to have him restore her to her former size. So, she bit her tongue and listened.
"Let me show you something." The giant stretched his massive arm far over Imogene's head, reaching for something resting on one of his display shelves.
It was hard for the miniature woman to grasp that the white-cuffed limb was actually a human body part and not the underside of some strange suspension bridge. The suddenness of motion seemed so impossible from something so large, but like with anything else she'd encountered in the previous twenty-four hours, Imogene found herself constantly adjusting to her new point of view. Nothing else had changed... only her. It wasn't a bridge up there, but an actual arm spanning the distance between the shelf and The Broker's building-like torso. When he retracted the gargantuan limb, it returned holding something black, but glassy in his hand. The dark object shined against the track lighting, momentarily obscuring its true beauty.
"If you'd be so kind as to step down from my fine porcelain, Ms. Spaak." Emil asked politely, then waited patiently while the minuscule female did as asked. He promptly removed the pale-white saucer and set it aside, along with his own unfinished dish. Then... the dark, otherworldly object descended and came to a rest directly before its shrunken viewer.
It was a stone. Almost jet black, but faceted in a such a way that the flat, panels still caught the light as it turned. It's polish was so finely executed that Imogene could view her own reflection in its mirrored finish. The jewel was enormous, a boulder to Imogene's eyes... a science fiction meteorite from well beyond our corner of the galaxy. Seeing the reality of her miniature self within the mystery stone's sheen for the first time since 'it' happened... only made her feel smaller.
"Two inches and nearly a half," Emil said, seemingly out of context.
"Excuse me?" Imogene asked, still quite mesmerized by the alien object placed before her.
Emil clarified, "you asked how small you were... two inches and a half... almost." The way he emphasized the the 'almost' felt almost... mocking. That somehow, by not reaching that arbitrary two and a half inch mark, it made Imogene's insignificance even greater.
Imogene stared past her own reflection into the dark abyss and beyond. She was left speechless. He was right in his assessment. This man was showing the tiny woman that she had become exactly that...
...insignificant.
Emil set his hand down on top of the gem, tapping on it nonchalantly. His massive fingers startled the puny creature once again, snapping Imogene out of her existential trance.
"This beautiful specimen is, in fact, the largest black diamond ever found on earth," DeTorres began, "its name? Coração Do Diablo... which translates in English to The Heart of the Devil. Gems as large and rare as this one have a tendency to earn a name." Emil lifted the dazzling jewel from the bench to admire it himself. Imogene watched her reflection disappear as the precious stone was lifted into the sky. The giant gazed into its dark core himself, turning the gem... so large it could easily crush his puny guest should he accidentally drop it.
"This gemstone has passed from one monarch to another, depending on who lost the war, for centuries. At auction, it could fetch many... many millions of dollars," he paused for a moment, before abruptly and carelessly tossing it back onto its place on the shelf. His gaze returned to the little figure standing next to his tacky "Florida" mug, a grin creeping its way up one side of his mouth. "It's also incredibly boring... I use it as a paperweight."
The impact of the falling diamond on the wall-mounted shelf was enough to send a cascade of dust falling onto the trembling, miniaturized blonde. Imogene sneezed repeatedly... apparently, not even getting shrunk could free her from her allergies.
"It appears Mr. Rudolph has been ignoring his cleaning duties. I'll have to have a conversation with him about that when he returns home from the hospital. I apologize for the unkempt state of my shop, Ms. Spaak. I do not take such oversights lightly."
Imogene couldn't have cared less about the barely noticeable layer of sediment blanketing The Broker's displays. The continuing absence of any attire left her feeling even more vulnerable than her size already was. It may have been easy for the gay titan to dismiss, but not so much for her. Once her sneezing fit ceased, she sheepishly asked DeTorres , "m-may I please have something to c-cover myself with?"
Emil continued to fidget around inside one of his drawers, barely acknowledging the question. "I thought we were past this, Ms. Spaak. Nothing about your sex interests me." When he finally found what he was looking for, Emil looked back to the shrunken 'Ms. Spaak,' noting her visible discomfort. He rolled his eyes at her again, realizing that if he hoped to gain her full attention, he'd also have to give a little, "but since it's only going to continue to serve as a distraction, here..."
His spindly fingers dropped a thin sheet of microfiber cloth, one he normally used to buff away the fingerprints left on his extensive collection of rare stones after viewing. Imogene pulled the cloth towards her as quickly as she could. Though small and delicate in his hands, the microfiber felt soft and comforting, like a king-sized duvet to her diminutive touch. It wasn't clothing, nor would it be easy to walk with, but the glimmer of security the yellow swatch offered was far better than nothing at all. Imogene thought for a moment about how much she used to hate handling microfiber. The way the texture always seemed to catch the rough parts of her skin... she was far too small for that to affect her now.
Emil placed another stone in front of the shrunken woman, actually pinning the small cloth she gripped at her chest to the bench. If she had to make a break for it now, the dirty piece of fabric would most certainly be staying. This new stone was much smaller than first, but still larger than Imogene herself. It's surface was covered in tightly layered and multicolored bands, running parallel to one another or connecting back into beautiful fortifications. She looked back up at The Broker, wondering just what the hell all of this was about.
"Now look at this one, my dear," DeTorres prompted. "A strikingly beautiful and busy agate mined in Mexico... and all for a measly pittance of fifty dollars. Look how much more dynamic it is than the diamond... the way the tiny bands swirl and meet... the way it draws your eye and begs you to solve its secrets. I almost envy your position, being small enough to appreciate its finer intricacies. An agate is small and uniquely beautiful to any other, not unlike yourself, my dear Ms. Spaak."
Imogene was taken aback by DeTorres's comment, pulling the silky cloth even further up her chest like a pearl-clutching shrew.
"Don't be so coy, Ms. Spaak... I may be a 'friend of Dorothy,' as they say, but ignorant I am not to the modern standards of beauty."
Imogene looked away. If his goal was to make her feel even more uncomfortable, then DeTorres was succeeding marvelously.
"You may be asking yourself why I'm showing you these things," Emil said, finally teasing a point, "it's not solely showing off."
Imogene grumbled under her breath, "fucking hell."
"You, and the... what I can only assume was your partner... the man whom you left bleeding to death on my one of a kind Turkish rug," DeTorres needed to address a quick tangent before he continued, of course. He parked his knuckles against his hips and scorned the shrunken thief like a pet needing housebreaking, "I was quite fond of that rug... a gift from Saddam Hussein himself... a thank you for allowing him sanctuary in my home when things grew a bit too... tense... back in his homeland."
The blank expression staring back from his audience of one was enough to inform Emil that his little intruder cared little for his loss. "...but I digress. As I was saying, the dead man and yourself could easily have pilfered many an item from this very room and turned a hefty profit. Any number of these stones could have sold well on the black market, allowing you to live out the rest of your days in affluence and comfort. But like any thief, a vault such as mine... the one that keeps drawing your attention away like a moth to a flame... is far too intriguing for someone like yourself. No matter what easy pickings may lie in plain view. There must always be more... there must always be better."
The Broker was right. Even with the intense fear that came with what she had become, that door still loomed large... both figuratively and literally. Her primal instincts may have taken over, but she was still Imogene Spaak. She still wanted, no... NEEDED to know what was stashed behind that door.
"You stare at it even now," Emil continued. "While yes, there is money... there are jewels... and gold... and silver... and artifacts, all stored safely and securely behind that door, there are also things that may challenge you. Things that may shake your very understanding of the fabric of reality. It is imperative for you understand that... none of it is for your eyes."
Imogene looked back up at the god-like man, wondering just what the hell he meant by that.
"Take the very compound that has brought you to your current condition," DeTorres elaborated, "quite an ingenious, but dangerous concoction cooked up by scientists working within the Israeli military. The powder is mostly harmless until inhaled, and even then, must be activated by a mixture of oxygen and adrenaline. So, those devious chemical engineers added an element to the mix that would send anyone unfortunate enough to breath the powder into anaphylaxis, guaranteeing an instant adrenaline rush. It's cruel and terrifying for the victim, exactly what these men had hoped for. The shortness of breath only lasts a few agonizing seconds, but by then... the damage has been done. Your enemy is completely neutralized, and without shedding a single drop of blood."
The reaction Imogene had experienced in the chamber... it all made sense to her now. She remained silent while The Broker continued his over-explanation like a lesser Bond villain.
"When I learned that the military planned to use this new weapon offensively against their Palestinian neighbors, it drew time for me to step in. As you may well know, I'm the sort of person that people... corporations... even nations come to for highly specialized needs. I've built my reputation, just as you have yours, through hard work and connections made with the right kinds of people."
"The 'treasures' that lie inside that vault... are actually just the tip of the proverbial iceberg. A steel gateway to a vast tunnel system snaking its way through the very mountain my home rests upon. These 'specialized' items are more powerful than any amount of gold or silver. And with that power, a man can possess the kind of influence that can build nations... or leave them in ruins. So, I brokered a deal with the Israeli military..."
Emil had Imogene's full attention. When she didn't ask, 'what kind of deal,' he continued anyway. It's not like she was going anywhere.
"If they were to use that kind of weaponry on an entire population... women and children mind you... civilians... it would only serve to ignite a powder keg in the Middle East. Every nation would want that kind of power, with one nuking the other until nothing remained but melted glass in the sand. I already failed to keep that atomic nightmare from becoming a reality, and I was not about to let another world changing weapon be unleashed upon the masses."
'He couldn't stop the atomic bomb from developed?' Imogene thought to herself, 'he couldn't possibly be that old.'
"So, I made the Israelis an offer...," Emil continued, "one they couldn't refuse, as the cliche goes. I would acquire all of compound they'd created, plus any and all documentation so that further manufacturing could not occur... and I give them back a certain relic... a golden chest their people have sought after for millennia."
Imogene furrowed her brow for a moment, trying to figure out what The Broker was alluding to... until it hit her, "you... you couldn't possibly mean..."
"The Ark? Yes... THAT ark. I'm not quite sure what all the fuss is about. It's beautifully crafted yes, but a bit too gaudy for my tastes. I had considered using the artifact as a receptacle for my dirty laundry, but the lid proved much too heavy. I think you'd agree that needing someone of Mr. Rudolph's strength to tend to my unmentionables is both embarrassing and a pathetic waste of the gentleman's talents."
"In the end, the Ark took up far too much space and I was glad to have it gone. The Israelis outdid themselves in their desperation to regain their artifact. Not only did they meet my demands, but they exceeded them by executing anyone who could develop the compound again in the future. They get what they've desired more than anything since Moses himself led them out of Egypt. A war was avoided. And now, I possess enough powdered deterant to ward off those, such as yourself, who would wish to pilfer what is rightfully mine. Enough for centuries to come."
This final statement felt particularly strange to Imogene's ears. 'Centuries to come?' What exactly did that mean?! Seeing the confused look on the tiny woman's face, Emil was more than happy to elaborate...
"When I tell you that the things behind that door can change a person, I mean it, Ms. Spaak. In your case... it was the door itself!" Emil laughed riotously at his own joke, much to Imogene's discomfort. After composing himself and wiping away a happy tear, the increasingly mysterious man dropped his biggest bomb yet, "I've been at this game for a very long time, my dear Ms. Spaak. A very. Long. Time. I've seen civilizations rise and fall and rise again from the ashes of the old. Your entire life leading up to this moment has been but a blink of an eye to someone like me."
Imogene couldn't help but to tear up. Who... or WHAT was this man? Emil DeTorres, The Broker... whatever he chose to call himself. Every answer to every question she had about this man only raised a dozen more.
"Once upon a time... a younger version of me may have been preoccupied with silly notions of conquest. Once I actually tasted power though, it left a bad taste in my mouth. So much responsibility. So many people looking to you for answers. I quickly realized that the best way to maintain the status quo was from the shadows. Wars came, wars ended. There's no quelling the human race's insane need to kill one another, but I've made it my life's mission to ensure that your lot may endure. That you may continue to exist and thrive, despite your own inherent stupidity."
"You may find me villainous, Ms. Spaak... but I assure you the work I do has saved this world more times than you can imagine. I am not the bad guy."
Tiny tears fell from Imogene's face and soaked into the fluffy yellow cloth. Was The Broker really even a man? Was Emil DeTorres a... a god?
"I had hoped that rumor itself would be enough to deter those choosing to test me. A few disappearances were all it used to take to manufacture a legend, Christ knows it's worked for me in the past. I've never been above rattling a few chains to make a house appear haunted, you could say. Lately though, my techniques only seem to have made your ilk all the more curious, more... daring." Emil twirled at the corner of his mustache once again, "you know what they say about curiosity and cats, my little Catwoman?"
The trembling in Imogene's bones had consumed every inch of her. She barely managed to spit out a single question in her terror, "w-w-what are y-you going t-to do with mmmme?"
The constant state of fear had resurrected a slight stutter the girl hadn't dealt with since she was a small child. An impairment of speech she'd worked through and completely forgotten about. All these memories of her past, traumas buried deep in her mind. The fear she experienced in that basement was built on such a primal level that her brain was dredging up anything it could to help her get out alive. There she was, smaller than any person had ever been, feeling those buried fears rising to join the new ones. All of them suffocating her like the compound itself.
DeTorres leaned back in, resting his pointed chin on his abnormally long hands once again. "Since you ask, Ms. Spaak... this is normally where I offer you a job."
End Part 12
Part 12-"The Broker's Collection"
"Come now, Ms. Spaak. Speak up," The Broker insisted. "A dialog about this predicament we find ourselves in is imperative... well, I should say it's more YOUR predicament than it is mine. So... when I place a question before you, I do expect an honest and prompt reply."
DeTorres's tone was calm but stern, as though talking down to a misbehaving child. Imogene wiped the berry juice coating a good portion of her face across her forearm, smearing the sticky substance more than removing it. Rolling his eyes at her less than formal eating habits, Emil promptly removed a wet nap from the same drawer that hid the scanner. He ripped open the square packet that held it, unfolding the clean smelling moist sheet within as soon as it was removed. The giant tore off a small corner and offered it to his shrunken dinner companion, then dabbed neatly at the corners of his own mouth an equal number of times with what remained.
As Imogene cleaned herself off, she forced out an answer to The Broker's inquiry, "I-I don't know." She wasn't lying exactly. She hadn't the faintest idea what treasures lay beyond the vault door... but she knew it wouldn't be enough of an answer to satisfy a man like DeTorres.
"You don't know?" Emil chuckled. "Surely you must have some inkling? Come now... humor an old man."
"I don't know...," she repeated, "money? Jewels maybe? Gold and silver... artifacts?" Imogene didn't know where this game was going, but she did know hated being talked to like a child, her diminished stature be damned. Snapping back at him wouldn't do her any good, not if she hoped to have him restore her to her former size. So, she bit her tongue and listened.
"Let me show you something." The giant stretched his massive arm far over Imogene's head, reaching for something resting on one of his display shelves.
It was hard for the miniature woman to grasp that the white-cuffed limb was actually a human body part and not the underside of some strange suspension bridge. The suddenness of motion seemed so impossible from something so large, but like with anything else she'd encountered in the previous twenty-four hours, Imogene found herself constantly adjusting to her new point of view. Nothing else had changed... only her. It wasn't a bridge up there, but an actual arm spanning the distance between the shelf and The Broker's building-like torso. When he retracted the gargantuan limb, it returned holding something black, but glassy in his hand. The dark object shined against the track lighting, momentarily obscuring its true beauty.
"If you'd be so kind as to step down from my fine porcelain, Ms. Spaak." Emil asked politely, then waited patiently while the minuscule female did as asked. He promptly removed the pale-white saucer and set it aside, along with his own unfinished dish. Then... the dark, otherworldly object descended and came to a rest directly before its shrunken viewer.
It was a stone. Almost jet black, but faceted in a such a way that the flat, panels still caught the light as it turned. It's polish was so finely executed that Imogene could view her own reflection in its mirrored finish. The jewel was enormous, a boulder to Imogene's eyes... a science fiction meteorite from well beyond our corner of the galaxy. Seeing the reality of her miniature self within the mystery stone's sheen for the first time since 'it' happened... only made her feel smaller.
"Two inches and nearly a half," Emil said, seemingly out of context.
"Excuse me?" Imogene asked, still quite mesmerized by the alien object placed before her.
Emil clarified, "you asked how small you were... two inches and a half... almost." The way he emphasized the the 'almost' felt almost... mocking. That somehow, by not reaching that arbitrary two and a half inch mark, it made Imogene's insignificance even greater.
Imogene stared past her own reflection into the dark abyss and beyond. She was left speechless. He was right in his assessment. This man was showing the tiny woman that she had become exactly that...
...insignificant.
Emil set his hand down on top of the gem, tapping on it nonchalantly. His massive fingers startled the puny creature once again, snapping Imogene out of her existential trance.
"This beautiful specimen is, in fact, the largest black diamond ever found on earth," DeTorres began, "its name? Coração Do Diablo... which translates in English to The Heart of the Devil. Gems as large and rare as this one have a tendency to earn a name." Emil lifted the dazzling jewel from the bench to admire it himself. Imogene watched her reflection disappear as the precious stone was lifted into the sky. The giant gazed into its dark core himself, turning the gem... so large it could easily crush his puny guest should he accidentally drop it.
"This gemstone has passed from one monarch to another, depending on who lost the war, for centuries. At auction, it could fetch many... many millions of dollars," he paused for a moment, before abruptly and carelessly tossing it back onto its place on the shelf. His gaze returned to the little figure standing next to his tacky "Florida" mug, a grin creeping its way up one side of his mouth. "It's also incredibly boring... I use it as a paperweight."
The impact of the falling diamond on the wall-mounted shelf was enough to send a cascade of dust falling onto the trembling, miniaturized blonde. Imogene sneezed repeatedly... apparently, not even getting shrunk could free her from her allergies.
"It appears Mr. Rudolph has been ignoring his cleaning duties. I'll have to have a conversation with him about that when he returns home from the hospital. I apologize for the unkempt state of my shop, Ms. Spaak. I do not take such oversights lightly."
Imogene couldn't have cared less about the barely noticeable layer of sediment blanketing The Broker's displays. The continuing absence of any attire left her feeling even more vulnerable than her size already was. It may have been easy for the gay titan to dismiss, but not so much for her. Once her sneezing fit ceased, she sheepishly asked DeTorres , "m-may I please have something to c-cover myself with?"
Emil continued to fidget around inside one of his drawers, barely acknowledging the question. "I thought we were past this, Ms. Spaak. Nothing about your sex interests me." When he finally found what he was looking for, Emil looked back to the shrunken 'Ms. Spaak,' noting her visible discomfort. He rolled his eyes at her again, realizing that if he hoped to gain her full attention, he'd also have to give a little, "but since it's only going to continue to serve as a distraction, here..."
His spindly fingers dropped a thin sheet of microfiber cloth, one he normally used to buff away the fingerprints left on his extensive collection of rare stones after viewing. Imogene pulled the cloth towards her as quickly as she could. Though small and delicate in his hands, the microfiber felt soft and comforting, like a king-sized duvet to her diminutive touch. It wasn't clothing, nor would it be easy to walk with, but the glimmer of security the yellow swatch offered was far better than nothing at all. Imogene thought for a moment about how much she used to hate handling microfiber. The way the texture always seemed to catch the rough parts of her skin... she was far too small for that to affect her now.
Emil placed another stone in front of the shrunken woman, actually pinning the small cloth she gripped at her chest to the bench. If she had to make a break for it now, the dirty piece of fabric would most certainly be staying. This new stone was much smaller than first, but still larger than Imogene herself. It's surface was covered in tightly layered and multicolored bands, running parallel to one another or connecting back into beautiful fortifications. She looked back up at The Broker, wondering just what the hell all of this was about.
"Now look at this one, my dear," DeTorres prompted. "A strikingly beautiful and busy agate mined in Mexico... and all for a measly pittance of fifty dollars. Look how much more dynamic it is than the diamond... the way the tiny bands swirl and meet... the way it draws your eye and begs you to solve its secrets. I almost envy your position, being small enough to appreciate its finer intricacies. An agate is small and uniquely beautiful to any other, not unlike yourself, my dear Ms. Spaak."
Imogene was taken aback by DeTorres's comment, pulling the silky cloth even further up her chest like a pearl-clutching shrew.
"Don't be so coy, Ms. Spaak... I may be a 'friend of Dorothy,' as they say, but ignorant I am not to the modern standards of beauty."
Imogene looked away. If his goal was to make her feel even more uncomfortable, then DeTorres was succeeding marvelously.
"You may be asking yourself why I'm showing you these things," Emil said, finally teasing a point, "it's not solely showing off."
Imogene grumbled under her breath, "fucking hell."
"You, and the... what I can only assume was your partner... the man whom you left bleeding to death on my one of a kind Turkish rug," DeTorres needed to address a quick tangent before he continued, of course. He parked his knuckles against his hips and scorned the shrunken thief like a pet needing housebreaking, "I was quite fond of that rug... a gift from Saddam Hussein himself... a thank you for allowing him sanctuary in my home when things grew a bit too... tense... back in his homeland."
The blank expression staring back from his audience of one was enough to inform Emil that his little intruder cared little for his loss. "...but I digress. As I was saying, the dead man and yourself could easily have pilfered many an item from this very room and turned a hefty profit. Any number of these stones could have sold well on the black market, allowing you to live out the rest of your days in affluence and comfort. But like any thief, a vault such as mine... the one that keeps drawing your attention away like a moth to a flame... is far too intriguing for someone like yourself. No matter what easy pickings may lie in plain view. There must always be more... there must always be better."
The Broker was right. Even with the intense fear that came with what she had become, that door still loomed large... both figuratively and literally. Her primal instincts may have taken over, but she was still Imogene Spaak. She still wanted, no... NEEDED to know what was stashed behind that door.
"You stare at it even now," Emil continued. "While yes, there is money... there are jewels... and gold... and silver... and artifacts, all stored safely and securely behind that door, there are also things that may challenge you. Things that may shake your very understanding of the fabric of reality. It is imperative for you understand that... none of it is for your eyes."
Imogene looked back up at the god-like man, wondering just what the hell he meant by that.
"Take the very compound that has brought you to your current condition," DeTorres elaborated, "quite an ingenious, but dangerous concoction cooked up by scientists working within the Israeli military. The powder is mostly harmless until inhaled, and even then, must be activated by a mixture of oxygen and adrenaline. So, those devious chemical engineers added an element to the mix that would send anyone unfortunate enough to breath the powder into anaphylaxis, guaranteeing an instant adrenaline rush. It's cruel and terrifying for the victim, exactly what these men had hoped for. The shortness of breath only lasts a few agonizing seconds, but by then... the damage has been done. Your enemy is completely neutralized, and without shedding a single drop of blood."
The reaction Imogene had experienced in the chamber... it all made sense to her now. She remained silent while The Broker continued his over-explanation like a lesser Bond villain.
"When I learned that the military planned to use this new weapon offensively against their Palestinian neighbors, it drew time for me to step in. As you may well know, I'm the sort of person that people... corporations... even nations come to for highly specialized needs. I've built my reputation, just as you have yours, through hard work and connections made with the right kinds of people."
"The 'treasures' that lie inside that vault... are actually just the tip of the proverbial iceberg. A steel gateway to a vast tunnel system snaking its way through the very mountain my home rests upon. These 'specialized' items are more powerful than any amount of gold or silver. And with that power, a man can possess the kind of influence that can build nations... or leave them in ruins. So, I brokered a deal with the Israeli military..."
Emil had Imogene's full attention. When she didn't ask, 'what kind of deal,' he continued anyway. It's not like she was going anywhere.
"If they were to use that kind of weaponry on an entire population... women and children mind you... civilians... it would only serve to ignite a powder keg in the Middle East. Every nation would want that kind of power, with one nuking the other until nothing remained but melted glass in the sand. I already failed to keep that atomic nightmare from becoming a reality, and I was not about to let another world changing weapon be unleashed upon the masses."
'He couldn't stop the atomic bomb from developed?' Imogene thought to herself, 'he couldn't possibly be that old.'
"So, I made the Israelis an offer...," Emil continued, "one they couldn't refuse, as the cliche goes. I would acquire all of compound they'd created, plus any and all documentation so that further manufacturing could not occur... and I give them back a certain relic... a golden chest their people have sought after for millennia."
Imogene furrowed her brow for a moment, trying to figure out what The Broker was alluding to... until it hit her, "you... you couldn't possibly mean..."
"The Ark? Yes... THAT ark. I'm not quite sure what all the fuss is about. It's beautifully crafted yes, but a bit too gaudy for my tastes. I had considered using the artifact as a receptacle for my dirty laundry, but the lid proved much too heavy. I think you'd agree that needing someone of Mr. Rudolph's strength to tend to my unmentionables is both embarrassing and a pathetic waste of the gentleman's talents."
"In the end, the Ark took up far too much space and I was glad to have it gone. The Israelis outdid themselves in their desperation to regain their artifact. Not only did they meet my demands, but they exceeded them by executing anyone who could develop the compound again in the future. They get what they've desired more than anything since Moses himself led them out of Egypt. A war was avoided. And now, I possess enough powdered deterant to ward off those, such as yourself, who would wish to pilfer what is rightfully mine. Enough for centuries to come."
This final statement felt particularly strange to Imogene's ears. 'Centuries to come?' What exactly did that mean?! Seeing the confused look on the tiny woman's face, Emil was more than happy to elaborate...
"When I tell you that the things behind that door can change a person, I mean it, Ms. Spaak. In your case... it was the door itself!" Emil laughed riotously at his own joke, much to Imogene's discomfort. After composing himself and wiping away a happy tear, the increasingly mysterious man dropped his biggest bomb yet, "I've been at this game for a very long time, my dear Ms. Spaak. A very. Long. Time. I've seen civilizations rise and fall and rise again from the ashes of the old. Your entire life leading up to this moment has been but a blink of an eye to someone like me."
Imogene couldn't help but to tear up. Who... or WHAT was this man? Emil DeTorres, The Broker... whatever he chose to call himself. Every answer to every question she had about this man only raised a dozen more.
"Once upon a time... a younger version of me may have been preoccupied with silly notions of conquest. Once I actually tasted power though, it left a bad taste in my mouth. So much responsibility. So many people looking to you for answers. I quickly realized that the best way to maintain the status quo was from the shadows. Wars came, wars ended. There's no quelling the human race's insane need to kill one another, but I've made it my life's mission to ensure that your lot may endure. That you may continue to exist and thrive, despite your own inherent stupidity."
"You may find me villainous, Ms. Spaak... but I assure you the work I do has saved this world more times than you can imagine. I am not the bad guy."
Tiny tears fell from Imogene's face and soaked into the fluffy yellow cloth. Was The Broker really even a man? Was Emil DeTorres a... a god?
"I had hoped that rumor itself would be enough to deter those choosing to test me. A few disappearances were all it used to take to manufacture a legend, Christ knows it's worked for me in the past. I've never been above rattling a few chains to make a house appear haunted, you could say. Lately though, my techniques only seem to have made your ilk all the more curious, more... daring." Emil twirled at the corner of his mustache once again, "you know what they say about curiosity and cats, my little Catwoman?"
The trembling in Imogene's bones had consumed every inch of her. She barely managed to spit out a single question in her terror, "w-w-what are y-you going t-to do with mmmme?"
The constant state of fear had resurrected a slight stutter the girl hadn't dealt with since she was a small child. An impairment of speech she'd worked through and completely forgotten about. All these memories of her past, traumas buried deep in her mind. The fear she experienced in that basement was built on such a primal level that her brain was dredging up anything it could to help her get out alive. There she was, smaller than any person had ever been, feeling those buried fears rising to join the new ones. All of them suffocating her like the compound itself.
DeTorres leaned back in, resting his pointed chin on his abnormally long hands once again. "Since you ask, Ms. Spaak... this is normally where I offer you a job."
End Part 12