Can we see Rye find their mother please? -- Escla
Somehow, McIrney had got word of what was going on. Somehow, that waste vent figured it out. Then he did something almost unthinkable. He rounded up the surviving parents of any child who had escaped his reign, and held them hostage. And bragged about it.
The assembled mothers and occasional fathers were forced into a throne of flesh, bound together in the most uncomfortable way possible. Supporting the bulk of CEO Harmin McIrney in all his extravagant splendour. Trembling a little, under his weight and the fact that they wore minimal clothing.
"I hear someone's trying to wreak some revenge," he said as an opener. "Someone better be careful about playing with others' toys... or something avoidable could happen to one of these toys. I'll pick one at random until I know who you are... and then... I'll make them suffer."
People learning about this kind of strategy are always surprised that people keep trying it. For starters, it only motivates the person seeking revenge even further. For another, it angers everyone else who had not chosen revenge... into choosing revenge.
People employing this strategy were always shocked to learn how badly it didn't work at all.
Rye wasn't working alone any more. There were others. So very many others. Those others had friends. They had contacts in the CRC. They could 'creatively borrow' a few members of Pax Humanis, just to be going on with.
"Leave him alive," insisted Rye. "He can't learn if he's dead."
They took everything. They took his holdings, they took his treasures. They especially took his hostages, and made sure they were treated better than subsisting on McIrney's leftovers.
Did the man eat anything else but artisinal bread and exclusive honey?
If he did, they couldn't find it.
IrneyCoin wasn't worth very much in the open market, but making him watch his empire fall into ruin was enough to at least make him start to suffer.
The rest was all about remedial education in not being a walking reproductive organ.
Reforming someone like him was going to take a long, long time.
Her name was Tufor, after the last two numbers of her production. McIrney didn't see much value in giving his owned assets names. They were, in McIrney's view, replaceable.
She was worn almost to a whisper. Bent about by the forces pitted against her. Constantly shocked that she wasn't being punished for what she was taking, or what she was given. Confused about her new place in a new world. Yet she knew Rye on sight.
She didn't have enough voice to speak, but her lips shaped the words, "My baby..."
Rye was careful when they hugged her. Afraid they might snap her weakened bones. A thousand speeches flew out of their head. All that was left was, "Hi, mom," and, "Missed you."
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / Leaf]
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