Clearly Peter knew what had just happened, and although Bernard had a guess, he couldn’t figure out how it happened, assuming he was correct. “Peter, what was that? Was it the boat?”

“It sure was,” Peter replied grimly. “I took the liberty of preparing a little for this eventuality. A couple of holes drilled through the bottom of the lithium barrels – clever of you to have kept those all this time. Anyway, knowing how big the waves were, there was no chance of the inside of that boat staying dry. Once he got out into the choppy water, it was only a matter of time before it exploded.”

Peter paused for a moment, anticipating Bernard’s next question, and then claimed that he had only drilled the holes once it was clear Bernard had been abducted. That seemed like a pretty obvious lie to Bernard, considering how surprised Peter seemed when he walked into the office and found Richard.

Reflecting, Bernard realized that Peter had planned to assassinate him, and that he was out at the docks watching to ensure that it happened. The fact that Richard had stolen the boat worked out to Bernard’s favor, and Peter was trying to play it like an act of loyalty.

In fact, Bernard was pretty sure that Peter only entered the dock master’s office after stealing the key off the dead man’s body, thinking he might go see what else was worth taking in the chaos that would ensue in the aftermath of the explosion.

Bernard would have to deal with this betrayal, harshly. For now, though, he had to play dumb. Peter had always been too good at reading him, and this was a very serious matter. Luckily, the combination of bruises, swelling, and a sore jaw made it very difficult to read anything from Bernard’s face or voice.

“That was some quick thinking. I’m lucky you were here. Good timing indeed, Peter. I owe you one. If we’re still alive at the end of this, it’ll be because of you.”

Peter nodded proudly, and Bernard realized that his gamble had been successful; Peter had no idea that Bernard had figured out what Peter had been planning. “We’re still not out of this yet,” Peter said. “We’ve got to figure out how to get away; Richard may not have been working alone.”

Although they tried a few different ideas, being tied together and to the leg of the desk was a pretty limiting situation. They had no tools, and no ability to reach anything else. The best option seemed to be rubbing the rope back and forth, over and over, trying to get it to fray.

It would work eventually, they could see that. However, it was also rubbing at their wrists at the same time, causing even more pain to both men. It would have been far luckier if someone would have just stumbled into the office and found them instead, but at least they were alive.

As they worked on the rope, Bernard tried to reason out what he would do about Peter. As soon as he ensured that the Marknosan crime family fell apart, he’d have to put some attention to matters “at home.” But he could only be stretched so far – he couldn’t both leave town to take out the Marknosans, while also keeping an eye on Peter.

He could, he knew, give Peter a distraction – maybe send him out to spread the word that the Lenorans were winning the battle against their oppressors. Realistically, even if Bernard sent Peter out like that, he would probably only have a day or two before Peter found another way to disappear. Plus, he’d have to keep him clear of the treasury.

But he also couldn’t get rid of him yet. The ultimate conclusion of his plan required the people to rise up as one, and he knew that he wasn’t in a position to make that happen yet on his own. The timing was truly deplorable; why couldn’t Peter have just been onboard for a few more days?

The men worked in silence, both lost in their own thoughts, and too sore to enjoy making conversation anyway. Once the rope was frayed enough, they started pulling hard against it, and eventually, it snapped. They fell over gracelessly, but couldn’t have cared less. They were free – at least, relatively speaking. They were still bound, but no longer tied to the desk.

Within a minute or two, Bernard had managed to crawl and roll his way around to the other side of the desk, where he found a letter opener. From there it was quick (albeit awkward) work to slice through the bindings on his wrists, and things proceeded nicely from there.

As Bernard finished slicing Peter’s bonds, he explained what he saw as their next steps. “I’ve got one more task to take care of now. Just one more thing to really throw the Marknosans into the chaos that we need. It should only take me a couple of days at the max; I’m going to take out their base of operations. It’s what I was setting out to do before Richard grabbed me, and with his death, hopefully it will be easier than I planned.

“I need you to really work the people. Call assemblies, hit the presses, do a tour, anything and everything you can. Make them feel like we have all that we need, but are under an existential threat from people who are jealous of the paradise we’re building.

“Take as many of your trusted people with you as you can, and execute every idea you have for stirring the populace. I honestly don’t think it’d be possible to go overboard on this one; hold nothing back.” Bernard placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “The people need to be whipped up into a passionate frenzy; we want them to be ready to go nuts when I come back.”

Of course, Bernard didn’t mention how forcing Peter to be visible and in the company of people all over the Lenoran Union’s territory would keep him from running for the few days that he needed to execute his plan. With so many eyes on him, Peter would hopefully be forced to play his part a little bit longer.

Peter agreed to Bernard’s plan – but too readily. Peter had been very vocal about his concerns and hesitations, and his want to escape; but now, without a protest or peep of any kind, he was apparently happy to listen to Bernard’s plan. Bernard was certain that it was only because it involved Bernard being out of town, which Peter assumed would give him time to execute his own schemes. Peter obviously thought Bernard was an idiot, or was too distracted to see he had been outed as a traitor.

The men made their way out of the docks, which were still surprisingly empty. It seemed someone had made certain that nobody was down there today – but whether it was Richard, Peter, or some other party, Bernard couldn’t say. Neither man commented on the lack of people, although both clearly noticed. Peter wished Bernard luck, and headed back into town to meet with his team.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Bernard, however, had to replan a lot. He obviously no longer had a boat, and he no longer had his bomb. Time was of the essence, so he couldn’t spend too long figuring out a new plan. The thing was, he really did still like the idea of blowing up the base.

Maybe he could head back to Jez’s place. There was that one barrel of lithium in there (presumably from back when she was producing mood-altering products before going all-in on opiates), but who knew if it was still there after the place had been raided? That wasn’t something that stuck out as a high-value item, so it probably wouldn’t have been picked up by looters.

Bernard didn’t exactly love the idea of returning to the warehouse, as Richard’s men would likely have re-established a presence there (not to mention it was the scene of two recent murders, and he didn’t want to be recognized). But it was the best idea he had…he’d just have to disguise himself a little.

It turned out that the incredible beating Richard had given him was a pretty good disguise in and of itself. He was swollen, purple, with one eye barely functioning; a quick trim of the beard and hair, and Bernard looked completely different than he had when drinking with Stephan, even to himself.

So Bernard set off; he was too sore to walk (which also would have been too slow), so he decided to hazard a trip via cart. Hopefully he wouldn’t be stopped along the way. Just the difficulty encountered in procuring a cart ride made Bernard realize what a sticky situation he had gotten himself into.

He looked like trash – clearly he had gotten into some trouble, and nobody wanted trouble. Two different cart drivers refused his request for a ride, just based on his looks, before the third finally accepted (but a rate that made it clear he wasn’t exactly thrilled to have Bernard aboard). Bernard knew he’d arouse suspicion in the city, as well, and that innkeepers probably wouldn’t want to give him a room.

As a result, this would have to be a quick in-and-out trip, which was going to be a lot harder in practice than in theory. It was horribly painful to move, and to see. He felt slow, and if he ran into any problems…ugh. Bernard cursed to himself, wishing he had more time.

A small stroke of luck came his way, in that the cart was subject to neither inspection nor harassment on the journey; Richard’s men were nowhere to be found. The cart driver commented on it, as well, saying that it was a nice reprieve, and that maybe the recent pressure was letting up.

Bernard took the opportunity to praise the Lenoran Union’s leadership (as the man didn’t recognize him, this was hilariously easy), saying that he had heard that the First Citizen – as Bernard was known throughout the Lenoran Union – had been making progress in fighting off the Marknosans and securing their borders for the people.

The driver seemed encouraged by that, and was more than happy to spend a minute or two discussing how grateful he was for the change in life that the First Citizen had brought him since the Lenoran Union was established. After that, the remainder of the ride was (while still quiet), a bit more pleasant and friendly.

Once in the city, Bernard made his way to Jez’s warehouse. He was unsurprised to see that it had been trashed, but someone had definitely made efforts to secure it. However, the building seemed completely unprotected, with no guards or any kind of patrols to be seen; as such, it was a pretty trivial matter for Bernard to find a way in.

Bernard could hear the sound of someone – a man, talking. He stuck to the shadows, moving quietly and slowly, so that he could see what might be going on, and how many people the man might be talking to.

To his surprise, as he got closer, he could recognize the voice. It was Ben; Bernard approached enough to see him from around the corner, and it was clear that Ben was here alone. He was talking to himself, frustrated by what he was seeing.

Supplies were everywhere, equipment was damaged, and everything was chaotic. Ben was running his fingers through his hair in frustration. Bernard couldn’t tell exactly what he was saying, as the man’s voice kept dropping and rising in a disturbing cadence, with a odd sound from the lack of rhythm, but he could tell Ben was beyond angry about something.

In fact, the man appeared to be having a breakdown of some kind. He was probably there, Bernard reasoned, to try to make sense of his sister’s death. Then he heard a snippet, “I can still do this. I was trained to do this work. I’ll figure it out. It’ll be mine, finally. Mine!”

Bernard realized at that moment that Ben had changed. This wasn’t a young man scared of hurting others or upset by doing wrong by them, looking for a way out to a clean existence. Somewhere between the years, the betrayal by Vance, working with Richard and Jez, and Jez’s death, Ben had turned into what he had feared, as a career criminal.

This wasn’t a man who wanted to be free and to live a good life – at least not at this moment. What Bernard was seeing, was an opportunist, who saw a void and wanted to fill it. Ben wanted to take over.

That was curious, but not really any of Bernard’s concern at the moment. This was as convenient an opportunity as he was likely to get to protect himself against Ben, being able to take him out while he was alone and distracted. He’d do that, then finish checking out the storeroom and proceed on with his plan.

Bernard grabbed a heavy metal jar that was on the floor nearby; if he hit Ben hard enough with it, he was pretty sure he could knock him out. However, just before Bernard stepped out of the shadows to attack, Ben started screaming in frustration. “I didn’t deserve this? Why? Everyone either betrayed me, or left me. Richard, you made me do it! You took the only thing I cared about. You made me do it!”

It was impossible for Bernard to know exactly what Ben was talking about, but if he was going to act, this was the moment. Just as Ben began sobbing, loud and angry, Bernard jumped out and got the drop on him, smashing the grieving man in the head.

Taking a page out of Richard’s playbook and using the materials strewn about, Bernard trussed Ben, tying him at the hands and feet. Ben came to just as Bernard was finishing, but there was no sign that he recognized his assailant, not that it stopped Ben from addressing him.

“Well that didn’t take long,” Ben sneered. “What’s the matter? You didn’t like the food?” He laughed. “I should have figured Richard was send somebody after me; just surprised he lived long enough to tell anyone it was me.”

He coughed, and a little blood came out; that wasn’t from Bernard’s assault, either, he was pretty sure. “You know what he did? Not that you’ll care, I’m sure. But somebody might as well know. He shouldn’t be able to get away with it. That maniac…he tried to convince me that a ghost from my past was behind it all, but that rat couldn’t fool me – I know he killed Jez. He wanted all of this for himself, and you all worked with him to do it.”

Ben spit in anger. “Rats get poisoned – that’s just what you do with them.” With that, he began to laugh hysterically. Ben had clearly lost his mind.

Bernard was piecing part of it together. It seemed that Ben blamed Richard for Jez’s death, and assumed Bernard was actually a member of Richard’s crew come to exact vengeance for doing something – poisoning someone in an attempt to get to Richard, perhaps?

Well, no matter. But this was a great opportunity for Bernard; after all, it seemed like if he were to kill Ben now, people would assume that it was a retaliatory hit. This had elements of the plan Bernard had originally made for Richard – it was almost poetic, frankly.

Bernard said nothing in response to the grieving man’s ramblings and rantings, but instead simply rolled him forward, into the nearby vat of (now dirty) water. He waited until the bubbles stopped rising, then made his way to the storeroom.