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Scene Title Kshatra
Synopsis Larson Riggs demands answers as to the content of the phone call he received while on his mission…
Date October 6, 2010

Empire Repairs

Flatbush, Southern Brooklyn


The name is bellowed noisily in the same time as an electronic door chime. Storming in through the front display space of the Empire Repairs electronics store, Larson Riggs is livid. "Goddamnit y'son've a bitch a'know y'in here!" Stomping past the glass counters, throwing open the wooden gate between the back counter area and the store floor, Riggs charges into the hall to the repair workshop.

Slamming open and office door, Riggs spots a computer left on, a map laid out on a table in the small office, push-pins stuck in different neighborhoods and boroughs. Eyes sweeping through the office, Riggs pushes away from the door, and soon the Jamaican is storming further down the hall. Throwing the door to the workshop open, Riggs listens to the door as it slams against the wall, but his attention is focused down on the lone man sitting hunched over the table with his back to the door.

Through the newspaper plastered windows, the light from outside only dimly filters through, but there's enough ambient light to see that Rupert Carmichael is working on a device of some kind. A cell phone with its back exposed, hooked up to a spaghetti mess of wires and tiny clamps that hook the wires to the circuit board.

Turning around slowly, Rupert lifts one brow and raises his glasses up off of the bridge of his nose and lays them flat on the table with one hand, the other sliding out of sight. "Rupert, what— t'fuck 'appened out there?" Riggs eyes nearly bulge out of his head as he throws his arms to the side. Rupert's expression is one of calm certainty, brows furrowed and head tilted ever so subtly to the side.

"You screwed up, from the sounds of it?" It's been over a day since the failed assassination attempt, but that wasn't the impetus of Riggs' desire to shout at Rupert. When he reaches for his phone Rupert tenses, but seeing him unclip a red and black cell phone from his belt has the stringy-haired professor relaxing.

"Y'called me, Rupert, y'called me right before a'blacked out. I don' remember a good five— ten minutes've time before Rowan electrocuted m'bugs!" The phone is slapped down on the table, call log clearly displaying Rupert's number on the front, and with that Riggs raises his brows expectantly, looking to the tactician of Messiah for answers.

"Yes," Rupert carefully notes, lifting one hand to his chin and stroking at his beard, "I ah, I did call you, and I guess severe mental trauma explains why you were able to work through the programming… why you're here and not dead. The phone call log is my bad," Rupert admits, flashing an apologetic smile to Riggs.

Staring at Rupert for a long while, Riggs breathes in deeply through his nose. "You did somethin' t'me, didn't 'ya? I thought y'didn't even have a power, Rupert? I thought it was taken from ya by— " the sudden sound of a gun going off drops Riggs down to the floor of the workshop in an instant. A pained whimper and a wet choke escapes the Jamaican, and from where Rupert holds his short-muzzled revolver in his lap, there's a bullet hole clear through the back of his chair and likely somewhere now in Riggs' chest.

Exhaling a weary sigh, Rupert climbs up to his feet, looking down at Riggs curled in the fetal position on the floor clutching at his chest, tears welled up in his eyes and blood pooling out beneath him. Looking up at Rupert, Riggs doesn't even get so much as another word before the gun goes off three more times, bright muzzle flash and noisy report of the revolver ringing through the workshop room. A thick carpet of blood spills out now from the two shots to the head and one additional round to the chest that ended Riggs' life.

Tucking the revolver back into a holster beneath his tweed jacket, Rupert reaches out with his other hand for the phone, pressing the talk button and then uttering the name, "Rebel," into the receiver. There is no ringing, just the sound of a whining crackle on the other end as Rupert picks up the device he was working on in his free hand, then steps over Riggs' corpse and begins walking to the front of the shop.

«Yes, Rupert?»

"Rebel, Riggs is dead. I need you to keep tabs on the list of phones I texted to you this morning. All of those members are to be considered on observation by the government now, limit them to interaction among themselves. How is the progress for the satellite attack going?" Tracking bloody footprints out of the store, Rupert walks into the front service area, ducking behind the front counter and picking up a small digital voice-recorder.

«They will be on-ground Tuesday of next week and in space by Wednesday.»

"Beautiful, remember our plan regarding that. I want everything to run as smoothly as possibly on this one, I'm counting on you, Rebel." Pushing the front door to the shop open, Rupert steps out onto the sidewalk, looks up to the clear sky with narrowed eyes, then both ways up and down the street before dashing across the intersection. "I need you to do more thing for me, by the way, Rebel."

«What is that, Rupert?»

Lifting up the voice recorder to the phone, Rupert presses the 'Play' button and the word "Kshatra," is whispered like a hiss into the phone from the recorder, and the moment Rupert crosses the street after the trigger is repeated by the recording, a sudden a remote-triggered device inside of the building across the street turns the repair shop radiant ball of fire and choking smile that belches up into the air, shudders the ground and sends a back-blast of hot wind that rustles Rupert's jacket and blows back his hair. Chunks of glass, concrete and steel rain down around the remains of the building, nearby cars are caught ablaze and screams from up and down the street echo in the sky.

Smiling, Rupert Carmichael hops a low stone wall into the cemetery across the street, and disappears amidst the headstones.

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