Long Lunch Lamentations

Holding the phone nervously, he waited for a response on the other side.  None came.

"Hello?"  He asked again.

Still no response.  But there was some breathing this time.  Not heavy or unnatural breathing, but enough to make it clear that there was definitely someone on the line with him.

"Look, I don't know if you can hear me, but . . ."

There was a click and the line went dead.

". . . but I'm pretty certain roasted checkers pieces would make terrible slippers."  He hung up the phone more disappointed than he had expected to be.  Apparently, it was back to boring old life again.

Maybe he would take a long lunch.

He got up and returned to the arduous task of collecting the papers he had so unceremoniously scattered across his office a few minutes before.  As he stood from picking some up, he felt blood rushing into his head.  He steadied himself against his desk.

And he closed his eyes.

"What do you mean you don't know where he is?"  His voice was trembling with anger.  "Your people were supposed to be keeping track of him!"

"That's not how we work, Qualm, and you know it," Captain Superior responded, stern but level-headed.  "We're not the League."

"No, but we have been kind enough to allow you to continue operating . . ."

"Allowed us?"  A bit less level-headed.

"Yes, Captain, allowed.  We have allowed you to continued your work."  He knew it was worthless to threaten Captain Superior, but even the leader of the Archers was susceptible to being thrown off his game by cheap insults.  Moreover, his psych eval from upstairs suggested a strong possibility of a huge inferiority complex.  Even his self-chosen name screamed over-compensation.  Maybe he could trick the hero into taking the blame for this one.  Maybe.

"Do you really want to turn this into a war between L.A.N.C.E. and the Archers?  Do you think that will end well for either side?"

Maybe not.

"This isn't about us versus you," except that it was.  "It's about the fact that we turned over a dangerous fugitive to you, because you assured us that your people could handle him."  Stay calm.  Keep him on the defensive.

Superior took a step forward and pressed a finger against Qualm's chest.  "Don't you talk to me about my failures.  We both know you wouldn't be here at all if Tristam wasn't breathing down your neck from upstairs.  This is as much your screw up as mine."

That wasn't the defensive.  New attack.

He looked at the Captain from over the top of his tinted glasses.  "How many of your people did he take with him?"

Superior turned his back on the agent and walked to the window.  "Most of the crawlers.  Shaman, Mr. Simon, and Nujalik all left with him willingly.  Malice is missing too."

"Have you heard from Sam?"  He tried his best to feign genuine concern.  It wasn't quite as convincing as he would have hoped, but thankfully it seemed to be enough that the Captain didn't notice.

"Arcano called in earlier.  Sam's safe in Axis Mundi."

Qualm silently mourned a lost bullet in this shootout.  "Thank God," he said in a tone that completely contradicted his legitimate feelings.

Superior snorted.  "Thank someone."

Questioning his faith.  This was a good sign.  He was back on the ropes with his arms down.  "Did Arcano have any leads?"

Superior sighed.  "I already told you, Qualm.  We don't know where he is.  Nash disappeared, ok?  There was a disagreement, he blew up a building, and ran off."

Qualm sighed.  "I just can't believe you didn't even send someone after him."

Something snapped in the captain and reeled around to stare Qualm down.  "I lost two good men in that pursuit.  Do you understand that?"  Anger.  Qualm was winning again.  "Daedalus and Astro Defender gave their lives trying to stop Nash.  I will not let you diminish their sacrifice by suggesting we didn't do anything.  We did all we could."

Perfect.  "And I don't think you want to diminish their last act by simply letting Nash go."  Superior's jaw tensed.  Qualm looked him dead in the eye.  "When you get word about him, let me know immediately."  And with that, he turned and walked away.

He managed to pin blame and responsibility on the Archers.  Tristam would be proud.

When he turned a corner and knew he was out of Captain Superior's eyesight, he leaned against a wall and let out a long, slow breath.

And he opened his eyes.

A long lunch was sounding better and better by the seconds.  He needed the change of scenery desperately, and he had hours to spare.  It wasn't like he would be accomplishing anything the rest of the day anyway at this rate.

Suddenly, the phone on his desk rang.  He checked the caller ID to see his boss's extension number.

Apparently, the long lunch would have to wait a bit longer.