Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-4849011-20150411010123

''This story uses my iguana man gangster Gerard Ripley. One of the stories in which he appeared was "The Binding Mask", which made reference to the drug from this story in the last paragraph. I was just wondering if the story is fine as it is or if a little more emotion or detail is needed. I know some people will say, "That's not the ending I would have chosen," but it's my character and I feel it's the most appropriate ending.''

Max pulled into the driveway, parked the car, and used his key to enter the building. If any of his colleagues had been there at that time of night, they would have noticed that Max moved with the resolute and unruffled air of a man determined to take care of business. However, unless they looked closely, they might not have noticed that his eyes were glazed and vacant. Moving swiftly Max entered one of the offices, went to the filing cabinet, and removed certain manila envelopes. After double-checking to see that they were the files that he had been requested to fetch, he closed everything back and returned to his car.

Throughout the drive to the office he had sat almost unmoved, his only thoughts being to drive safely and complete the errand he had been given. However, as he made the return trip, memories of what had happened earlier that night began trickling back into his consciousness.

He had run into Gerard Ripley, the iguana man who led the bizarre criminal organization called Basilisk, and his top henchmen, Estes and Kim. Ripley had greeted him and then cut straight to the chase. “I know you belong to a rival gang, but it doesn’t have to be that way. Just hear me out. You may think you’re in a high position right now, but I can offer you security and power that you could never achieve if you stay where you are. Surely you’ve heard about all Basilisk has to offer. All I would require in return is for you to bring me certain files that you have access to. Collaborate with me and your reward will be great. Refuse and the consequences will be frightening.”

“You-You’re kidding, right?” asked Max.

“Why would you think that? Criminals all over know about my power, and about my vengeance. You may think it over if you’d like.”

“No thank you,” replied Max brusquely.

The gang leader’s expression began to harden. “You really shouldn’t be so rash. I’ll give you one more chance to think about this decision.”

“Don’t bother. The answer’s still ‘No’.”

He reached for a weapon, but Kim temporarily blinded him before he could use it. As he covered his eyes, Estes began to pound him. Ripley and Kim rapidly joined the melee. In under a minute they had subdued Max and secured him to a nearby telephone pole.

“Tsk tsk. Such a bad decision,” commented Ripley. “Well, I can’t say I didn’t try, right?”

He stood directly before Max. “Have you ever heard of a film called The Mask of Fu Manchu? It was based on a novel by Sax Rohmer, and sadly it was one of the most racist films ever made. However, there was an interesting plot development. Fu Manchu revealed that he had a drug which, when injected into a person’s system, caused the victim to become no more than an extension of his will. Just a small amount would cause the subject to be completely under Fu Manchu’s control. The subject would do whatever was wished of him. Do you know why I’m telling you this?” He reached into his trench coat and took out a long silver vial and a hypodermic needle. “It’s because, my dear fellow, I’ve managed to duplicate that drug.”

“You…You can’t be serious!” replied Max incredulously.

Ripley joked, “No, it really was one of the most racist films ever made.” He chuckled as he filled a fourth of the syringe with the green fluid from the vial. He replaced the vial and noted, “There’s just one more ingredient needed before administration.”

Ripley rolled up part of his left sleeve and then pulled part of his gauntlet free from the band holding it in place, exposing the scaly blue skin of his wrist. He held the syringe, tensed himself, and jabbed the needle into his flesh. Slowly, deliberately, he pulled back the plunger, drawing out some of his own blood. Afterward he removed the syringe from his wrist and shook it to further the blending process. Max’s shock turned into alarm as he watched the dark red fluid mix with the chemical concoction. He panicked and fought to escape from his bonds, but Estes restrained him further.

Kim summarily put an adhesive bandage on Ripley’s wrist. Ripley thanked him, readjusted the sleeves of his chain mail and trench coat, and looked toward Max. After observing him sadistically for a few seconds, he brusquely walked over to him, unceremoniously ripped his shirt sleeve using one of his claws, and menacingly held the needle over his arm like a stiletto.

Max begged, “No! Don’t do this! I can-”

“I acted nicely and gave you a chance to cooperate of your own free will,” interrupted Ripley. “It’s too late now.”

Without another word he jabbed the needle into the exposed skin of Max’s arm and injected the drug into the frightened gangster. Max flinched from the pain, and within seconds he began to feel the drug’s effects. His nerves felt on fire at first, but then it seemed like a dark fog was enveloping his consciousness and sinking into his brain. After that he experienced a feeling of drifting and detachment, as though he were being cut off from himself.

“A smaller dose would still be effective, but would leave you completely aware of your actions,” he heard Ripley explain. “You’d be fully aware of what you were doing, but you’d be completely unable to stop yourself. You’d be a sentient living puppet instead of just a living puppet. You should be grateful that I want to make sure you stay in my control long enough to complete this mission.” That was the last thing he remembered before his consciousness faded.

Max didn’t think much of this recollection during the first part of the drive back. It seemed like a dream or a television episode, something with no bearing on reality. As he got closer to his destination, however, the fog in his mind started to dissipate. The reality of what had happened and was happening slowly became clear, and he started to grow alarmed with each passing minute.

By the time he reached his destination he had regained almost all of his consciousness. Looking through the window he saw Ripley, Estes, and Kim confidently waiting for the files. Ripley extended his hand and made a beckoning motion. Max hesitated, but then he found himself opening the door and exiting the vehicle with the envelopes in hand. Now he understood exactly what Ripley had been talking about earlier. It felt like he was a prisoner in his own body. Robotically and against his own will, he started walking toward the trio.

“Move that way,” Dart Tongue ordered while nodding his head to indicate the desired direction. “Put your back up against the telephone pole.”

Max’s mind screamed, but his body obeyed. Shuddering, he could only watch as his right arm, the arm holding the files, automatically extended in response to Ripley’s approach. As Ripley took the files he mockingly asked, “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Estes and Kim rapidly bound Max to the telephone pole with strong cords. Ripley removed a switchblade knife from his coat pocket and flicked it open. Max wanted to struggle, to attempt to break free, but his body refused to move. He could only pant in fear and watch as Ripley held the blade close to his throat.

The gang leader joked, “This is about where we came in, isn’t it?” He chuckled and added, “What’s with all the sweat and the heavy breathing? Where’s that bold attitude you had when you all but spat in my face in response to my generous offer of Basilisk membership?”

He paused so his words could sink in and then continued. “You made the decision to oppose me, and just look at what that got you – a position of utter helplessness.” He drew back the knife. “This is where it ends.”

His limbs still paralyzed, Max closed his eyes and braced himself. However, instead of feeling searing pain, he heard a “thunk!” at his side. He opened his eyes and looked at Ripley, who wore a triumphant grin as he removed his right arm from close to Max’s left hip. With his heart still pounding out of his chest, Max glanced down and saw the knife close to his hand, its blade halfway embedded into the wooden pole.

Ripley looked into his eyes and told him, “After the drug wears off you may cut yourself free. Just know that for the rest of your days you’ll have to live with the fact that you couldn’t do one single thing against me. You were totally in my power, and you only live because I allowed it.” He held his claws against Max’s throat and added, “You’ll have to live with that realization for the rest of your life, and if you ever oppose me again, it will be a short and abject life indeed.”

Ripley, Estes, and Kim triumphantly turned and coolly left without another word. Max started to watch them depart before collapsing into a dead faint. 