Mook on the Forty-Eighth Floor

“Sit down.”

The Mook complied. He hated to admit that this person, the most powerful man in Fourside, had a very commanding presence. It was almost as though Master Giygas himself was speaking through the well-dressed man sitting on the other side of the gigantic desk.

“I was summoned, sir?” he asked. It was a stupid question. They both knew it was just a formality, a prompt to thrust the conversation straight into the heart of the matter. He was indeed summoned, summoned by his true master. Lord Giegue, now referring to himself as Giygas, the lord among aliens, the leader of Starmen, king of the Wooly Shamblers, commander of the Mooks.

“You’re the one Giygas sent me? I assume you fit the qualifications?” the old man asked with disdain, causing the Mook to cringe. His people were warriors feared throughout the galaxy, fighters that utilized PSI to conquer foes in the name of their master. For him to take such abuse, to be referred to in such a condescending and demeaning manner, by a human no less, made him involuntarily clinch each of his tentacles. If Master Giygas hadn’t specifically ordered him to obey the aging human before him, the old man would have already been assuming room temperature.

“Master Giygas didn’t tell me what I was needed for. But he assured me that I was more than capable for what you have planned,” the Mook said in a deceptively pleasant tone.

He could feel the eyes of the old man scanning him, taking a close examination of everything he could see from behind his desk. While windows were strategically placed throughout the office to keep the room very well-lighted, the negativity exuding from the old man’s probing glare seemed to cast an unnatural shadow over the room. Finally, the old man nodded, obviously approving of what he saw.

“You seem qualified enough. You’re job is simple, really. I need you to make a few troublemakers… disappear.”

“Disappear?”

The old man reached into the inner pocket of his well-tailored suit jacket, and quickly pulled out three photographs, setting them face-up in a horizontal row. The Mook took a careful look at each of them. The one on the left was a boy in a red baseball cap and a blue shirt with yellow stripes. He looked happy enough, obviously oblivious to the fact that the kingpin of Fourside had a death warrant on him. The Mook’s three eyes then wandered to the center picture. A girl in a pink dress smiled back at him. The last was a boy wearing a suit and black bowtie. Unlike the other two, he wasn’t smiling. Rather, a stoic expression, bordering on annoyance, graced the viewer of the picture.

“You want me to kill some kids?” the Mook asked, hiding his confusion as best he could. Why would a man as powerful as him, who had connections to the best assassins that money could buy, need a professional of his level to deal with some children?

The old man reached into a drawer on his side of the desk, and pulled out a bottle of wine and a glass. “I wouldn’t have required one of Giygas’s own if it were that simple, now would I?” he asked, giving the Mook the creepy feeling that the old man could read his mind. “Now, these are not ordinary children. They are very dangerous, both to myself and the city’s safety. Too dangerous to be kept alive.”

The old man poured the blood-red wine into the glass. “Are you aware that tomorrow morning, I’m reopening the Grand Fourside Mall?”

“I did not, sir?” What the hell did this have to do with his assignment!

“There were some problems, maintenance-related mostly, that forced me to close it. But now that I’m reopening the mall, I need a new manager. Someone who can watch over the entire place for me.” The old man looked the Mook straight in his central eye. “Someone who can monitor the children that will be coming and going. Teenagers like going to malls, especially with their girlfriends, do they not? Especially when there’s a huge sale in honor of its reopening. If you were one of these kids, visiting the grand city of  Fourside from whatever hamlet they crawled out of, you would be interested, would you not?”

The Mook then understood. He was being ordered to ambush them inside the department store. However, he wondered if the man before him had gone insane, or simply emptied one too many bottles of expensive wines. The mall would no doubt be crowded, for one. There were so many variables that could go wrong in all this. It would be nearly impossible not to be seen, and the Mook knew that he would certainly stand out, seeing as he wasn’t human.

“Mr. Mayor, don’t you think that’s a bit risky? There’s no doubt I would be seen, and that would certainly raise some questions.”

The old man drained the wine in one swig, setting the glass down on the table. “I’m going to put you in the manager’s office, where you will have access to security cameras throughout the store. I’ll have someone come to inform you when the children arrive. Watch them, keep a very close eye on them. When they start heading out, cut the lights. The switch will be clearly marked in your office. Your species can see in the dark, as I specifically requested, right?”

“Most Mooks can, sir.”

“But can you?”

“Yes sir, I can.”

“When the lights are out, I want you to capture the girl. Her name is Paula Polestar, and she should be in the company of those two boys. Seize her, and bring her back to your office. I had the manager’s office specifically built to accommodate our plans, so arrangements will have already been made to bring her into my direct custody.”

The Mook looked back at the pictures, focusing on the boy in the red cap. Somehow, he looked familiar. “What of the others?”

The old man glared at the Mook. “Lure them where you’d like, and kill them. Do it slowly, off them quickly, I don’t care. Just see it to that they’re dead. Understand?”

The Mook nodded. This old man was pretty harsh. There wasn’t a hint of emotion in his voice, no sigh of remorse or even hesitance in ending the lives of three kids. Of course, the Mook wasn’t concerned about any moralities attached to this mission either. Any enemy of Master Giygas’s was an enemy of his.

“The girl, you want her unharmed?” the Mook asked.

A sick, twisted smile replaced the frown. “I want her alive. If she resists, feel free to use appropriate measures. Giygas wants her alive, but he never said we couldn’t break a few bones to ensure her cooperation.”

The Mook was wrong. The Mayor of Fouside wasn’t vicious and cold-hearted. He was downright demented, a heartless creature that had less human in him than most of the aliens the Mook had worked with in the past. But the Mook held his tongue. After all, what was it to him what happened to a few kids?

“I can bring her back without the use of force, sir.”

The old man stood up from his desk, pouring another glass of wine. “Can you now? Don’t underestimate them, they’re not normal children. Two of them can use magic. The girl is one, the capped boy the other. Be brutal. Showing them mercy would be your doom.”

The Mook simply nodded. It was odd, though, for humans to know PSI. The only other instance that he could think of was a group of children about ten years ago. But they were ordained by prophecy…

“I won’t, Mr. Mayor. Consider the job done.”

The old man began to walk around his desk into the center of his spacious and magnificently appointed office.

“I sense doubt in your voice. Follow me.”

Who did he think he was, expecting him to just jump up at every command? But the Mook knew that he was ordered directly by Master Giygas, who was using the human as a tool. That helped calm his mind, and made him feel slightly better. He began to follow, and the two stopped in front of a huge window overlooking the city.

“I want you to take a good look at what you see,” the mayor ordered, cocking his head towards the window pane. “Take in everything. The streets, the buildings, the people. Everything.”

Using his three eyes, the Mook scanned everything that he could see. The people, who looked smaller than insects, rushed too-and-fro, like a line of ants. The streets looked like gray rivers that separated forests of even grayer skyscrapers. Cars whizzed by below like ripples in the water.

“Did you take a good look?”

“Yes,” the Mook replied simply.

The old man turned to face the alien. “Tell me what you saw.”

“I saw people, buildings, and the streets below. Mostly, people were rushing around.”

The old man nodded. “These people and buildings. What did the people look like?”

They were on the forty-eight floor of a skyscraper. How could he be expected to see what people looked like? “They were too small to really see clearly,” he said politely, humoring the old fool. “They looked rushed and busy, though.”

The mayor chuckled. His laugh sounded hollow, almost evil. Certainly devoid of humor. 

“That’s right. Because we’re so far up, we see them as one large mass, not as individuals. Now, these buildings that you spoke of. Describe them.”

“They all looked very large, all of they seemingly well-built. Most look the same as the next.”

“Did you have to look up to see any of them?” the mayor asked.

“I don’t understand.”

“Were there any buildings that seemed taller than this one?”

The Mook rescanned the sea of buildings again, and realized that no, there wasn’t. “No, sir.”

“So allow me a moment to summarize your findings. The buildings are large, and the people are small. Have I stated your observations correctly?” the mayor asked.

The Mook didn’t know where this was going, but he had a bad feeling. “You did.”

The old man made his way back to his desk, and sat down. The Mook quickly followed, resuming to his chair opposite of the old politician.

“Those buildings, the tall skyscrapers, are an accurate representation of power within Fourside. The higher up in a given building that one has an office, the more control he wields over a greater number of people. Now, you said that this was the tallest building you could find, right?”

“As far as I could see,” the Mook replied.

“City blueprints will confirm your observation that this is the tallest building in Fourside. That means the forty-eight floor of the Monotoli Building rises above every other rooftop. Mine is the highest office in the city, both figuratively and literally. The faceless mass of people below are mine to control, mine to do with as I will. Are you aware of the Mani-Mani Statute?”

The Mook could only nod. He knew that Giygas used it to manipulate those he needed to carry out his bidding. The old man was certainly a tool for the statue, his fate sealed by his own greed and desire for power.

“Master Giygas gave me the power to attain this coveted position,” the mayor continued. “He allows me to rule, ever expanding my power, telling me what is in my best interest. He says that those children are a threat to me and my administration. Therefore, I must take appropriate measures against such threats. He tells me that the girl could be useful under his custody, so I do this. Do you know why I obey this statue so blindly?”

The Mook was getting irritated with all the rhetorical questions. This wasn’t a debate, nor was the Mook a voter he was trying to bring to his side. He wished that the mayor would just delve straight to the point. But, as usual, the Mook held his temper, replying with his usual one-word answers. “No.”

“Because the statue had guided me to where I am today. By obeying him, I now speak to you behind my desk on the forty-eight floor. By disobeying Mani, by ignoring its wise council, I could easily be on the street, forced to accept the manipulation and control from the forces that would reside on the top floors of all those buildings. Three little punks from pathetic hick-towns like Onett and Twoson aren’t going to usurp the mightiest in the vast metropolis of Fourside.”

The old man’s eyes now flashed with vengeance. The Mook tried desperately to find a trace of sanity within the burning pupils of the power-hungry mayor, but came up short. His words were getting more rapid, the tone of his voice grew in ferocity. The man before him was truly insane.

“You, Mr. Mook, are being appointed manager of the Great Fourside Mall. It’s very high up, I assure you of that. Do a good job, and you can retain that position. You can reap the benefits of the moronic masses. Bring Paula to me, kill those worthless boys. You will be greatly rewarded.”

The mayor drained his fourth cup of the wine, and slammed the empty glass down so hard on the table that the Mook could hear a deafening bang erupt from the desk. 

“The Monotoli Building is the tower of the gods, and we are the deities to be worshiped, to which tribute will be paid. We’ve ascended to our rightful place as rulers over the stupid and naïve commoners that think as we tell them to. I clawed my way through this city; I’ve seen every brutality, every injustice. Good people who couldn’t get ahead because they didn’t know how to play ball with his bosses. I learned early how to get along with my superiors, how to ascend through the ranks of Fourside. I earned my position here, and Giygas saw that. I deserve this.”

Suddenly, the mayor swung his arm across his desk, knocking everything off the desk. The Mook almost jumped as the wine glass shattered to the ground. He then slammed his hands on the desk, leaning over to the Mook. Beads of sweat fell down the beet-red face, his eyes were narrow slits that couldn’t contain the fire in his eyes, the resolve in his voice. He could hear the mayor’s heavily breathing against his ear.

“I’LL BE DAMNED TO HELL BEFORE I LET THREE USELESS BRATS, WHO HAVE NO IDEA HOW THIS WORLD IS RUN, TAKE THAT FROM ME! Bring Paula Polestar to me, show her no mercy! If she so much as thinks of disobeying you, pummel her to the ground. If those kids so much as give you a dirty look, make their death painful. Everything is at stake. You, I, and everyone who depends on us have everything to gain from this, do you understand?”

“I do understand. I completely understand,” the Mook affirmed. Despite the Mook’s power undoubtedly trumping the mayor’s, the ferocity of the old man’s message, the conviction of each syllable, the madness that was evident on his face… frightened him. He could now truly see Master Giygas speaking through the old man. With a respect that he didn’t know he had for the man, he firmly stated, “It shall be done, master.”

The mayor slowly sat himself back down in his chair, a wane smile on his face. “I believe you. You’re dismissed.”

The Mook got up, and quickly headed for the door. He had work to do for his master. Everything was riding on it.