The small group assembled in the interrogation room watched in horror as each screw was slowly, sadistically twisted through Peter's skin. The screams had subsided, replaced by choked sobs that were literally forced through the young man's ultra raw throat. After what seemed like hours, although the counter on the VCR testified to the passage of only 20 minutes or so, Mariston pulled the final screw from Peter's tortured flesh. His enraged audience watched as he stretched his arm backward, out of camera view, and pulled it back into frame grasping a hunting knife and a small glass vial. He nodded once at the camera before turning back to his victim and running the sharp blade gently across the young man's throat.
"Not to worry, dear Captain, it is not quite time for the finale. Your little nephew and I still have a few games to play."
Mariston repositioned the knife over Peter's chest and slowly dragged it diagonally from his upper right chest to his left hip, drawing a thin line of blood. When he reached the hip, he righted the blade and thrust it sharply downward, holding the open vial near the skin to catch the sudden rush of blood. Peter bucked weakly against the invasion of steel into flesh, but was barely able to croak out a whimper.
"I'm sure you will enjoy my little gift, Griffin, although I question my own altruism at leaving you even a tiny scrap of the brat. It's certainly more than I got to keep of Kyle. By now, you have no doubt figured out my identity. Well, let me just confirm your suspicions, shall I?"
Mariston turned his face to the camera and reached up to yank the mask off. Kermit gasped inwardly. The face of his newest enemy imprinted itself on his brain while his memory dredged up a much younger version of the man. The years had not been kind to Roger Mariston. His hair, what was left of it, fell in stringy locks of muddy gray to his shoulders. A jagged scar, running from his left ear to the middle of his jawbone, marred his once-handsome face, accompanied by sun-cracked skin and heavy dark circles beneath his eyes. But it was the cold, emotionless gaze that speared Kermit's heart with dagger-sharp pangs of fear. Looking around him, Kermit noticed that his reaction was not unique. The maniac on the screen let loose with one last insane giggle before walking straight at the camera and fading to black.
Paul blinked as reality rushed back to surround him, allowing his inner strength to take charge of the uncontrollable emotional surge that had washed over him as he'd watched his son go through hell. Granted, the nightmare visions he had just witnessed were relatively tame compared to some of the tortures he had seen inflicted on others during his years as a mercenary, but this time it had been done to his son. His son. His jaw clenched, roughly grinding his teeth together, as he suppressed his desire to release his boiling rage. He heard a soft growl to his right and turned toward the source.
Kwai Chang Caine was as close to being out of control as Paul had ever seen him. The smoldering anger and barely concealed hatred in the priest's eyes caused the mercenary to shudder. Matthew's white knuckled hand was once again settled on his son's shoulder in a calming gesture, but neither man looked entirely sane. Paul knew exactly how they felt. His eyes flicked over to Kermit, whose reaction closely mirrored his own. He tightened the lid on his own anger and stood up.
"So, what's our next move?"
"We must try to speak with Peter again" Caine whispered.
The voice sounded calm and controlled. The lid exploded. "Why the hell can't you find him? I thought you two had some kind of mystical connection that let you know where he is all the time."
Kermit moved to stand between his brother-in-blood and his brother-in-spirit. Facing the latter, he reached out a hand and laid it on his mentor's shoulder.
"Paul, stop it. You know that isn't fair."
Paul had regretted the words the moment they had escaped his lips, but had been unable to stop them. He looked into and through Kermit's shades to his friend's heart and nodded in agreement.
"I know." He gently moved the younger man to the side and faced Caine. "I'm sorry, Caine, I don't know where that came from."
"You are worried about our son, as am I. To answer your question, however, I cannot find him because I cannot maintain a steady link with him. His pain is so great that it overwhelms every other emotional response. I believe the drugs that he has been given are also interfering. What I can tell, is that his chi is weakening rapidly. We must find him soon. I can not lose my son a second time." A solitary tear traced it's way down a wearied face that suddenly looked much older. Hazel eyes met slate gray in mutual determination.
Once Kermit determined the situation was back under control, at least as much as it could be, he turned back to his brother. "So, let's get the kid online."
In concert, Caine and Matthew each raised an eyebrow in confusion.
"Contact him, talk to him, whatever.." Kermit explained, tapping his temple with his forefinger.
"Ah. Yes, we must all join hands. This time, I fear I will need the strength of all of you to establish and maintain the connection."
End Part 12
