The Retarded Warrior and 
DARK Lore Presents:

                   ** Lengths and Extremities: Part 7 **
                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                                 * * * * *

	The sedative that Elminster was shot up with lasted for a full eleven
hours. He awoke at around noon on April 16th, the day after he was captured,
to find himself shirtless and secured by steel circlets around his hands and
feet to what looked like a large metal operating table slanted at 20ø short
of standing upright on one edge. The corner of the room in which he was held
had various kinds of diagnostic equipment set into the floor and ceiling
leaving the walls completely bare. The section of wall-space opposite him,
next to the door, was dominated by one huge computer screen with three
smaller screens beneath it and a wide console of dials, switches and
keyboards beneath them with three empty chairs sitting before the whole
thing.
	Discounting confusion and bewilderment, he didn't feel as out of it as
he did the night before in the transport skiff. His body was numb but
feeling was slowly returning to his limbs. Also, his right shoulder was no
longer dislocated, just very sore. He shifted himself a little to the left
to take pressure off it but found his efforts to be in vain, so he decided
to leave it alone and wait for whatever that was going to happen to happen.
	He was on the verge of falling asleep when finally someone came in,
closing the door behind him.
	The man was intellectual looking and dressed smartly in black pants and
a white shirt accompanied by an unbuttoned white labcoat. In his right hand
was a blue clipboard. He walked briskly by, taking a seat at the computer
from where he eyed Elminster like a boy who was watching the giant panda
exhibit at the zoo.
	Elminster blinked. This was not what he expected.
	"You're awake," the man said. "Good. My assisstant, the young lady that
cleaned you up, was afraid that they had given you too much tranquilizer."
	Elminster didn't expect conversation either. "Uh..." he started not
really knowing what to say. "I've felt better."
	The man laughed and pushed his black, wire-rimmed glasses further up
his nose. "I should hope so!" he said. "I'm sorry we cannot shake hands like
civilized men but at the very least, introductions can be made. My name is
Joshua Tungsten but everyone here in the Bio Unit calls me Dr. Tongue."
	"Cute," Elminster said and smirked.
	Dr. Tongue smiled and just barely managed to touch the bottom of his
nose with the tip of his tongue. "The ladies love me," he said.
	Elminster couldn't help but laugh. "Well met, Dr. Tongue!" he said,
feeling strangely British all of a sudden. "Stephen Elminster at your 
mercy."
	Dr. Tongue grinned and turned his clipboard around revealing a sheet of
white paper with Elminster's name written at the top and many illegible
scribbles underneath it. "I know," he said. "I've been expecting you."

                                 * * * * *

	By the time that Dennis led Forbidden Image and the NEB unit into
Elminster's lighthouse home on the lakeshore, Golgotha was already seated at
the oval table in the dining area playing his third game of Solitaire and
drinking his fifth can of beer.
	"Sorry I'm late," Dennis said, taking a seat. "I couldn't find Kevin.
Apparently he's gone off on an expedition somewhere with some other guys."
	Golgotha set his cards off to the side and choked down another mouthful
of beer. "Damn," he said. "Eternal Darkness's powers would have been very
helpful on this mission. But at least you got the Retarded Warrior. He'll be
a great help."
	Forbidden Image locked the front door behind him and took a seat at the
table. Calling back over his shoulder he said "Hey NEB! Don't just stand
there, take a seat and sow the seeds of war with us."
	The NEB unit was a synthetic human with enough weapons and tactics
information stored in the memory core inside his head to fill two or three
sets of encyclopedias. Unfortunately, that didn't leave much empty space for
artificial intelligence, so he was left with the mental capacity of a
seven-year-old only he followed orders to the letter. People who knew him
sometimes called him the Retarded Warrior.
	Presently, he simply said "Yes," and sat down next to Dennis.
	Golgotha produced a small stack of paper, a packet of six different
coloured pens, a RoloRuler and two folders, one red, the other black and
said "The black folder is the most recent in-and-out schedule for the RDC
supplied by Dennis's contact, the head of maintenance unit 6. In the red one
is the only set of blueprints of the complex that I could find. They're
about five years old but the place hasn't changed that much recently.
	Dennis took a blue pen and wrote 'Shopping List' at the top. "Okay, any
ideas spill them now. We'll build an arsenal as we go along."
	The NEB's eyes scanned the faces of the people at the table as he
decided whether or not Dennis's invitation included him.
	"Come on, people," Golgotha urged. "Brainstorm!"
	The NEB reached a hand across the table and pulled the two folders
towards himself, drawing mildly surprised stares from everyone at the table.
One by one, each of the blueprints were copied into his RAM and after
memorizing the activity schedule for the next quarter, he sat silent as if
in a trance.
	Golgotha finished off his beer without taking his eyes off the NEB.
	After a few minutes, the NEB stirred. "Sirs," he said slowly, "it would
be difficult but not impossible."
	Dennis and Forbidden Image exchanged astonished glances and Golgotha
grinned wickedly like the Cheshire Cat.
	"Tell us," he said and began to scribble wildly as the NEB began to
speak.

                                 * * * * *

	"You've been expecting me?" Elminster asked with raised eyebrows.
	"Uh-huh," Dr. Tongue said, typing something on the keyboard. A steel
ring at the end of two arms fixed directly opposite each other at twelve and
six o'clock slid along a track in the ceiling and stopped a few feet over
Elminster's head.
	"Hold still," Dr. Tongue said. "Just doing a diagnostic check."
	The ring broke at the three and nine o'clock positions and Elminster
could see the honeycomb design on the inside. The arms reached spiralling
down, their bolted elbows straightening as the semi-circles scanned
Elminster from head to toe three times, joined back together and retracted
to the ceiling.
	"First time I've ever seen anything like that," Elminster commented.
	"It's called a Multi-Ultrasound Resonance Scanner. I designed it,"
Dr. Tongue said proudly. "Each half-ring has sixty medium ranged
high-frequency ultrasound resonance scanners lining the inside of it and
they give me an accurate idea of what's wrong with you."
	A transparent human figure faded onto the giant screen on the wall.
	"Cool," Elminster said. "You're a designer, eh?"
	Dr. Tongue nodded. "That and some surgery they get me to do on the
Manhunters who get hit on jobs. I haven't been assigned to a duration
project involving humans since I was made the head of the Bio Unit here.
That's why I was so surprised when they told me to prep your material six
months ago," he said.
	"Six months ago?" Elminster echoed, cocking his head to one side.
	"Oh yeah," Dr. Tongue replied, swivelling around. "You're quite an
interesting character, Mr. Elminster."
	Elminster grinned and said "I've been told that." Then his expression
drew inwards and became serious. "But I know of a lot of interesting people.
What makes ME so special that they would get the head of the Bio Unit to do
six months of preparation on my file before sending Toronto's best
Manhunters after me?"
	Dr. Tongue frowned and swivelled back around to the computer.
	The door opened again and in came two men, one tall and regal and
filled with an air of command, the other smaller and squirrelly and
following closely behind, shutting the door behind him.
	"My dear Elminster, the information that you request is highly
classified. I'm afraid the good doctor may have already told you more than
he should have."
	"Bentley," Elminster snarled through gritted teeth. "So this is where
you've been hiding."
	Bentley grinned and gave a courteous dip of his head. "You've found me
at last, eh, Steve?" he said and put a thumb on one of the quarter-sized,
purple bruises on Elminster's chest. "Good job! Too bad I found you first."
	Turning to Dr. Tongue, Bentley asked "How are the patient's injuries,
Doctor?"
	Dr. Tongue called up image enlargements of Elminster's bruises and his
shoulder on the three smaller screens. "There weren't any torn ligaments in
his shoulder so it'll be fine. Just a little sore. Those two bruises go down
pretty deep though and may take up to a month to go away."
	Bentley smiled viciously and said "I don't know much about medicine but
I'm guessing that that means this will hurt like a screaming motherfucker!"
He started to apply pressure on Elminster's wound until he was leaning all
his weight on it.
	But Elminster fought against the pain. Sweat emerged on his forehead
and all of his muscles tightened as his breathing changed into a series of
hateful hisses being squeezed out through clenched jaws and grinding teeth.
	Finally, Bentley gave a defeated sigh and eased off. He took a step
back and looked Elminster over through predatory eyes.
	Elminster stared back, his breathing still raspy and heavy.
	"You're no fun, Steve," Bentley said and hit him with a right
roundhouse to the face.
	Elminster's head tossed back and clanged on the metal table. A thin
stream of blood trickled out of his nose and gathered on his upper lip. With
a small degree of effort, he blew a breath out of his mouth, sending a
bloody spray out in Bentley's general direction.
	With a surprised gasp, Bentley hopped back. He watched as the mist
settled on the floor, speckling the white ceramic tile with tiny red spots.
And then he laughed. "You're still alive! Excellent!" He gestured at
Elminster and said to Dr. Tongue "Give him some more Tenderizer. I'll be
back tomorrow."
	Then Bentley turned to the squirrelly man who had been standing by the
door, watching expressionlessly. "Give a call down to the Micro-Mech Unit,
Bernard. Let them know that we're coming."
	The man nodded quickly and opened the door and followed Bentley out,
closing it quietly behind him.
	Dr. Tongue reached into his pocket and produced a silver needle gun.
"Sorry. Orders are orders."
	Elminster continued to stare at the door, ignoring him completely.
	Not knowing what else to do, Dr. Tongue pressed the barrel of the
needle gun to Elminster's neck and pulled the trigger. A hiss sounded from
the rear of the gun and Elminster jolted, then dropped off into
unconsciousness.SAUCE00Lengths & Extremities Part 6       The Retarded WarriorDark Illustrated    19941017é*

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