Assault or Attrition (2 page)

My sister let
out an exasperated sigh. “No, but if you finish your milk you can
be excused from the table, and go look out the window.”

The sentence
had barely finished before Addison started chugging.

“And take your
brother,” Gary added. “
And
stay where we can see you.”

I could have
afforded a much nicer restaurant, but when dining at the top of the
CN Tower, food wasn’t the main attraction. Like everyone else, we
were there for the view. While not nearly as impressive as the
megatowers that dominated London, Dubai and New York City, it was
still the largest freestanding structure in Canada, and offered an
expansive view of downtown Toronto, rotating slowly to allow guests
a three-hundred and sixty degree look at the skyline. Even on a
cloudy October afternoon you could see halfway across Lake
Ontario.

As the children
scampered off towards the window Elizabeth’s expression immediately
hardened. I hadn’t spent much time with my sister since we lived
together at our parents’ house, which was almost fifteen years ago,
but I could still read her tells. Liz was never much of a poker
player – every emotion spilled out of her eyes like water from
Niagara Falls.

“Matthew,” she
said sternly, sounding even more maternal than usual. “Since Arena
Mode ended we’ve barely heard from you. Gary and I have been
worried sick.”

My
brother-in-law nodded in agreement.

“I’m fine, guys
– really. I just needed some time to decompress. Take a breather,
you know? My surgery went as well as I could have hoped,
and
—
”

“Not that,” she
interrupted. “You called us when you came out of surgery. I’m
talking about
after
. We haven’t heard anything since August.
The news is talking about this Red Army coming after you, seeking
retribution for killing that Russian man, and then you up and
disappeared.”

Gary leaned in
on his elbows, removing his wire-frame glasses. “We don’t let the
kids watch the simulcasts, but they
do
hear things, Matt.
They’ve been worried, too. Did you know that the news has been
reporting that you might have been captured by these radicals – or
worse?”

Spend a little
time in Maui and everyone starts losing their minds. After enduring
a deathmatch-style fighting tournament
and
major surgery in
the same week, you’d think a guy could enjoy a little rest and
relaxation without being cross-examined. “I appreciate your concern
guys, but it’s all good. Most of the freaks who identified
themselves as ‘Red Army’ killed themselves in that big suicide pact
when Taktarov was pronounced dead. They were a crazy cult filled
with crazy people. The media is running out of things to report
since I won’t talk to them, so now they’re spreading rumors and
bullshit theories.”

Elizabeth went
on to explain that it’s not only my physical well-being she was
concerned about, it was my state of mind. I had a long history of
going into self-imposed exile, and she felt like I might be hurting
my chances at a meaningful relationship with Peyton.

I assured her
that Peyton – my committed girlfriend – is
totally
fine with
our time apart. She knows I need some space now and then, and she
knows how I feel about her.

My sister’s
problem is that she can’t imagine that anyone could experience love
differently than she does. She’d been married to Gary for over ten
years, and they seemed more infatuated with each other than ever.
They were one of those annoying couples who wouldn’t spend a night
apart without chatting in a holo-session for an hour before bed
because they couldn’t bear the separation. Not everyone needs that.
Peyton and I have our own thing, and both of us
know
it’s
real; it doesn’t need to be constantly reinforced by hand-written
notes and trails of rose petals and leaving origami birds on each
other’s pillows.

As I continued
to explain my very normal, non-codependent relationship to my
overbearing sister, I heard a rattle. My knife. It was chattering
as my hand trembled, rapping involuntarily against the edge of my
porcelain dinner plate.

“What’s that?”
Gary asked, scratching at his beard.

“Just a
tremor,” I replied as casually as possible.

“A
what?
” Liz shouted, much louder than she had intended. She
drew the attention of a handful of guests, as well as a waitress
who was refilling water glasses at a nearby table.

“A temporary
side-effect of the surgery,” I explained in a more reasonable tone
of voice. “It’s
very
common according to Doctor Anderson,
and it’s nothing to worry about.”

I struggled to
steady my hand and slice through the remaining piece of tenderloin,
but the trembling persisted, and I dropped the knife. It bounced
off the table and landed at my feet. Before I could lean over to
retrieve the cutlery a friendly waiter intervened, stooping to
assist me. “No, please sir,” he said in a thick accent that I
couldn’t quite place. “I will get that for you.”

I was in the
process of thanking him when the blade slid into my stomach. It
penetrated beneath my ribcage; deep, twisting, scraping the bone as
he yanked it out. I toppled from my chair. The waiter had time for
one more frantic stab, slashing my forearm as I reached up to
defend myself, before Gary tackled him to the ground.

Clapping my
hands over the blood-soaked wound, it spurted like a faucet through
the space between my fingers. Screams echoed throughout the
restaurant. My vision blurred and the room spun. I glanced up to
see Gary being shoved away by the burly waiter, who started making
his way back towards me, determined to finish what he’d started.
And that’s when he began to drown.

My water cup
emptied. The remaining liquid rose from my glass and splashed into
his face. As if on command, a ribbon of water traveled through the
air in a split second, directly into my attacker’s airway, filling
his throat and nostrils.

Gasping and
hacking, he attempted to expel the water, but his efforts were
futile. The waiter’s face reddened as he choked, unable to produce
more than a few drops from his mouth.

Undeterred, the
man lunged towards me; wild-eyed, knife poised above his head; his
white dress shirt spattered a dark shade of crimson.

The room dried
instantly.

Every drop of
liquid in the restaurant – beverages, the humidity in the air, even
the moisture from people’s eyes and mouths – gathered in front of
Valentina. It formed a massive, gyrating ball of water, hovering
inches away from her outstretched hands. When she unleashed it, the
force struck my attacker’s chest like an oversized cannonball.

Engulfed in a
tidal wave of water and shattered glass, his body sailed through
the window, across the highway and into the distance, disappearing
into the dense fog that hung over the lake.

Gary called an
ambulance while Elizabeth rushed to my side, pressing a wad of
napkins into my wound with both hands.

Valentina raced
off to secure the perimeter.

“Oh my god,” my
sister whispered, her voice trembling as tears streamed down her
cheeks.

I tried to
force a smile. It was the only way I could think to calm
Elizabeth’s nerves, and convince her that my injuries weren’t as
bad as they looked. “Don’t worry about me,” I winced. “It’s almost
impossible to kill a Power Ranger.”

Partial
transcript from the CNN Simulcast ‘Shootout’
Hosted by William O’Neill, October 2041

William
O’Neill:
I’m not condoning violence, Senator. I’m saying that
we live in a religious country – a country of folks who take
pride
in their faith and celebrate it. Is that wrong?

Sen. Alex
Jenkins (D-N.Y.):
I don’t see how that—

O’Neill:
And look, I’m no theologian. But I
am
a
religious man. I have beliefs, and those beliefs won’t be trampled
by the left-wing media. I’m a practicing Catholic, for cryin’ out
loud!

Sen.
Jenkins:
As am I, Mister O’Neill, but that doesn’t really—

O’Neill:
With all due respect, Senator,
don’t
interrupt me. You’ll get your turn, all right?

As I was
saying, this is very, very simple: it’s about justice. ‘An eye for
an eye.’ But the liberal media doesn’t see it that way. They’re
trying to spin this into some kind of a sob story about Matthew
Moxon, this billionaire elitist –who is an
atheist
, by the
way – did you know that? This atheist gets stabbed in some Canadian
restaurant. Like we’re all supposed to feel sorry for him now,
after what he did?

Sen.
Jenkins:
The stabbing was reported less than thirty minutes
ago. With so few details about the incident I don’t think we can
form an opinion about—

O’Neill:
It turns out he’s fine. It was just a
scrape
, and he’s in stable condition.

But what
I’m
interested in: he brings a
superhuman
with him
for protection! The guy knows he has a target painted on his back
for what he did in Arena Mode, so he’s surrounding himself with
these human weapons.

That’s the
same as walking into a building with a bazooka. Is that acceptable,
Senator? Walking around with a bazooka? Are we going to have new
laws in Canada where you can just waltz into a store and say, “Hey,
look at me, I want to buy some gum. By the way, I have a
bazooka!”

Is
that
the world we’re living in?

Sen.
Jenkins:
First of all, I’m a Senator from the state of New
York. I’ve actually never
been
to Toronto, where this attack
took place, so I don’t see how discussing their policies—

O’Neill:
All right, so Moxon wins this reality show – this
‘Arena Mode’ deal right here in Manhattan. It’s a nightmare. They
block the streets, kick us all out of our homes – and for what? To
host some no-holds-barred fighting tournament.

Superhumans
fighting to the death? What next, Senator? Are we just going to
start throwing babies into lion cages so folks can stand around and
film it on their camera phones for entertainment?

Sen.
Jenkins:
Mister O’Neill, with all due respect I thought this
was going to be a debate about the proposed minimum wage
increase.

O’Neill:
This is a live simulcast, Senator. News breaks and
we have to make adjustments on the fly. This is what the folks want
to see.

Sen.
Jenkins:
All right, so do you actually have a question for
me?

O’Neill:
Absolutely. The question is this: how are we
supposed to feel sorry for this Matthew Moxon – this billionaire
atheist
who is, I’m sorry, a murderer?

Sen.
Jenkins:
Who did he murder, exactly?

O’Neill:
Sergei Taktarov! In cold blood. And his accomplice
– this Brynja What’s-her-name who claimed to be a resident of
Iceland, conveniently disappears.

Sen.
Jenkins:
Let me get this straight, Mister O’Neill: Sergei
Taktarov backed Matthew Moxon into a corner, where he was hiding in
an alley. He slammed Moxon into a dumpster, nearly knocking him
unconscious. Then, before he could finish the job, Moxon’s partner
dropped an acid-filled bullet into his brain, killing him.

O’Neill:
Right.

Sen.
Jenkins:
So the rules and regulations of the tournament aside,
wasn’t Moxon just defending himself? Taktarov was about to kill
him
.

O’Neill:
Possibly – we don’t know that.

Sen.
Jenkins:
Taktarov killed two people earlier in the tourna—

O’Neill:
Look, I’m not a criminologist and I’m not going to
argue semantics with you, Senator. But this year, a number of
evangelical pastors predicted a cataclysmic event. They talked
about the End Times. Do you think it’s just a coincidence that
these predictions come now, in the
exact
same year as Moxon
kills Taktarov?

Sen.
Jenkins:
There have been predictions and prophecies about the
end of the world virtually every year. They go back centuries.

O’Neill:
I don’t keep track of
every
single prophecy
– I’m a busy man. All I know is that folks predicted the End Times
this
year, and look what happened?

This is
history repeating itself.
Every time
a saviour with
supernatural powers comes to earth, promising to usher in a new age
of peace and prosperity, he’s
killed
.

Sen.
Jenkins:
As far as I’m aware that only happened once.

O’Neill:
And now it’s happened again! Are you denying that,
Senator? You’re just going to sit there, stare me in the face and
deny it?

Sen.
Jenkins:
I’m not s—

O’Neill:
Moxon figures out a way to kill this man – a man
who appears to be nearly indestructible – and then disappears. He
falls off the face of the earth for months. No press release, no
comment. He just up and leaves America in some state-of-the-art
hover plane.

Then, three
months later he shows up in Canada of all places – the guy can’t
even be bothered to return to America – and in his
first
public appearance he gets stabbed.

Sen.
Jenkins:
So what are you saying?

O’Neill:
I’m saying that this is just the beginning,
Senator. The tip of the iceberg. Moxon shows his face for ten
seconds in a country where it’s practically illegal to be in a bad
mood, and he almost gets killed.

He’s the most
hated man on the planet, and there will be a
lot
more people
out there gunning for him, you mark my words.

And on a
related note, my new book ‘The Beauty of the Status Quo: Life,
Liberty and Low Taxes.’ will be available tomorrow.