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Orp…
Orp shuffled the cards. Cupping them upward, he found pleasure in the sound of them sliding back together. He’d enjoyed the handful of days he’d spent taking care of their confined friend, Remmy. It had been Orp’s turn. The time they’d spent together proved to be excellent sport. Orpiment had been holding a little treat gleaned from the experience for his three best friends.
Sitting with them around the card table made him feel special and included. There was an alchemy that happened when the friends were together in person. He placed the first card before Balor and said, “I might have a pleasant surprise for you, gentlemen.”
Before each of the four horsemen, Orp delt a handful of cards. He liked to think of their group that way. Shapers of the world. He thought of himself as War, bending the universe of both public and private information toward his whims. He slid effortlessly between the layers of the digital landscape. There was very little that he couldn’t unveil. In the coming years, countries would rise and fall because of the information warfare that was increasingly occurring.
Nine Eleven was nothing compared to destroying a country’s economy and undermining its political structures. Who needs a physical act of war, when you can get the citizens of a country to willingly start killing each other?
Balor said, “Let’s end this rather lovely evening on an upswing before we head to the airport to catch our flights. What have you got for us, Orpy, my friend?”
“I’m not going back to Colorado just yet,” Orp announced.
“Why?” asked Sam. He sounded like he looked. Dumb, entitled, and direct. Underneath the veneer was a cruelty that functioned as an internal rot, a pestilence. Orp admired it. He was fascinated by how Sam’s particular brand could often go viral.
Once in college, Sam had turned his whole frat against a freshman that was pledging, just for sport. During a hazing event, they almost beat the guy to death. The brotherhood almost didn’t survive the event. A lot of money switched hands, and it took a year or two for the event to become part of the community lore instead of a soul eroding regret that haunted its membership.
Orp said, “I thought I might check out a film program at a university in Texas.”
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Balor leaned back in his seat, pleased. “You found them!”
“Indeed, I did.” Orp preferred to be humble. “To be fair, they haven’t made it hard to be found.” He fanned his hand out and looked at the cards he’d dealt himself. Three kings, fitting. “They aren’t being careful yet. When I talked to the one called Daniel on the phone, he was practically giddy to hear that their video was gathering attention. We are meeting for coffee to discuss opportunities in the digital world and an editing internship with my company.”
“You sly dog. How long have you had this under wraps?” Cary grinned at him, leaning forward.
Fanning away the praise, Orp said, “A few hours.” One thing he’d learned early in his life was that sometimes it was best to support the illusion that others were winning. He placed two of his cards face down and drew two more. The abandoned kings lay dead, no longer in play. “I wanted to have his address and phone number before I told you.” He gave a nonchalant shrug. “The meeting is just a perk. Can one of you check on our guest while I am in Texas? I imagine he is running low on supplies.”
Sam nodded. “I’ll do it.”
Orp looked over his cards at his friend. “Remember, he is still useful. Don’t break him yet. Pretend you are a normal person, if you can.”
Looking all amicable, Sam spread his arms wide, exposing his mediocre hand to the others. The money on the table was nothing to him. “When am I anything but an All-American boy, living the dream?”
“Boy?” Cary smirked and drew a card.
*
Remmy…
Every time Remmy heard a sound, he snapped to attention. This had to be it. Someone had to come soon. He’d eaten through most of his supplies and the bucket situation was getting to be unlivable. Remmy had stopped bathing to be sure his water supply was sufficient.
They couldn’t let him die down here. He was too valuable. There were things he was good at, a flair he had. Orp had seen that. When the man visited him, he paid attention. He listened to him. Orp wouldn’t let him die in this squalor, not over a misunderstanding. He’d left him an old laptop and explained that he tracked every keystroke and knew what Remmy did. His jailers had explained that there were cameras. He’d spent hours inspecting every hole and crack he could reach in the wall.
Remmy scratched the dry skin on his arm to keep himself from destroying the stitches on his thigh. He’d been doing what Orp asked, tracking the paths of both his own video, and the new ones that were being leaked.
Those stupid fuckers in Texas. They had stolen his idea, warped it, and lied about it. The losers were using his precious footage to promote some stupid amateur film that they probably hadn’t even considered until they saw his content.
They were coyotes and when these guys let him go, he was going to find a lawyer and sue them. Remmy wasn’t going to take it lying down. Orp had said he knew a guy, a lawyer, who would help him get justice. But for now. Just for now. He had to help them.
The sound he had heard above must have been his mind fucking with him. He was out of pain meds… and maybe this was withdrawals. Remmy still had a few cans of green beans and two packages of pop tarts. He’d eaten through what they had left him in the college sized refrigerator.
Everything, except for the one small container marked chilli with his name on it. He wasn’t that desperate yet and planned to never be. Remmy did not know if they had made it for him, or from him, and he didn’t want to find out.