The Weapon - Lex - part 14
By Diana the Valkyrie
Humanity Holdings
Update: 29/10/2003 to valkyrie05



We reached the offices of Humanity Holdings, and went up to reception. "I'd
like to speak to the boss, please," I said. The receptionist looked at me like
I was a dead slug under a lettuce leaf, and said "And whom shall I say is
calling?"

I hate people who say "whom".

"Mr Mickleshaw and Mrs McCrea."

"And what matter is it in regarding?"

Who teaches these people grammar? "Donations to the Cause" I said; there's
always a Cause that wants donations, and it left the possibility in her mind
that I was planning to make a donation. "Third floor," she said, "he'll meet
you by the stairs. The lift is non-operational." Yes, and I bet it isn't
working, too.

Myself and Mrs McCrea reached the third floor. The man waiting for us took one
look at us, spotted Wendy's wings and got the deer-in-the-headlights look.
Wendy gave him a huge smile, put her arm round his waist before he could
react, hugged him to her side, and marched to his office. He went too, he
didn't really have any choice.

"Shall we all sit down," she asked. He nodded. "W..w..what do you w..w..want?"
he stuttered. Wendy looked at me. I looked at the nameplate on his desk. I
can't imagine why anyone would need a constant reminder of their own name. "Mr
Pardaga, I'd like to see your management accounts, please, assets and
liabilities, sources and applications of funds," I said. Wendy nodded, "What
he said," she added.

"That's confidential," he began, "I can't divulge them." "No problem," I said,
"I'm happy to sign a non-disclosure agreement." He looked like that wouldn't
make much difference. "Let me persuade him a bit," said Wendy. "There's two
hundred and six bones in the human body. I'll start with your fingers, and
work my way downwards via your body to your toes until you decide you've had
enough. Then you'll give me the same thing you could have given me now, except
you'll have to spend the next few years in and out of hospitals and in
physiotherapy to get back some of the use of your limbs. Of some of your
limbs." While she was talking, she was jabbing her finger down into his wooden
desktop making a finger-sized hole with each jab; when she'd finished, his
desk looked like giant woodworm had been eating it. Then she laid that same
finger on his nose, and stroked it gently. "Or maybe," she almost whispered,
"maybe I'll pull your fingers off one at a time. One by one. And lay them out
in a row on the desk in front of you. Most guys cave in after two or three,
you know? Could you imagine life without your fingers? Maybe they'll be able
to sew them back on, Sometimes they can, if they're still fresh. Sometimes
they can't. I wonder how many fingers it will take to break your will?"

I stared at Wendy. She's never done anything like this before, has she? This
didn't sound like the gentle superheroine I knew. But if I was surprised,
Pardaga was gobsmacked. "That's .. that's inhuman!" he protested. "Isn't that
precisely your point?" she retorted, "I'm not human?" He stared at her,
terrified. "Relax, honey, or you'll ruin those nice trousers," she said, "now
you have five seconds to obey me ... then you begin to bleed."

"I'm happy to sign a non-disclosure agreement," I repeated. "Yes, yes," he
almost cried. Wendy smiled. "That's a good little boy, then," and she patted
his cheek. He flinched away from her hand.

Stick and carrot. Wendy was the stick, the carrot was the line of retreat that
I was offering him with this worthless non-disclosure. We left with a nice fat
sheaf of paper which I was hoping would tell me where the money was coming
from.

On the flight back, I asked her. "You wouldn't really have ..." "No, of course
not. But these people, they think I'm the Devil Herself, they make the rather
silly assumption that just because I can do something, then I will do it. They
think I'm a soulless alien, or a machine." "And are you?" I asked, bravely.
"I'm not a machine, and my soul is as holy as yours is." "So you do actually
have a soul." "Been there, done that," she said. "If you do, then I do. If you
don't, then I don't. If you're really interested, ask my Momma, she'll
probably know, she knows everything." "Everything?" "Didn't yours?"

Yes, I suppose so. At least, that's how it seemed to me way back when.

. . .

Wendy dropped me off at the hotel, and went out again, presumably in search of
kittens in trees. I started going through the papers we'd got from Humanity
Holdings, especially looking at the apple sauce. Or, as accountants with no
sense of humour call it, "Sources and applications of funds". First, I
cross-checked the payments to Roberts and Williams, attorneys-at-law. That
correlated nicely with the stuff I'd got from the discovery, so I felt that I
probably had real figures here. But the next interesting question was, where
was Humanity Holdings getting it's money?

Of course there were the subscriptions, all the people paying their $10 per
month to the Cause, so that the organisation could spread it's message. I read
a few of the pamphlets I'd picked up. It was all about how humanity should
reject all superheroes, how we should stand on our own two feet. How we'd done
well for ourselves up till now, and we needed no-one's help. How if we came to
rely on aliens for our own protection, what would we do if the aliens decided
to leave? All through the leaflet, there was no mention of Wendy, our Weapon,
the Guardian of Humanity, it was all abstract, all about "soulless aliens" and
"cold machines". I felt like tearing up their vile "literature" and flushing
it down the toilet, but I didn't, in case I needed it for evidence somehow.
Because, as I'd suspected, Humanity Holdings was the funding agency for the
Humanity First, those lunatics who were against Wendy's activities.

As I went down the list of sources of funds, one stuck out like a sore thumb,
because it was so huge. Some sort of corporate donation, it seemed, from an
outfit called "Cute Chicken Holdings". Why would a food company be sending
money to a lunatic outfit like Humanity First, I wondered. It doesn't really
make sense. Oh well, I thought, that's tomorrow's problem, I'll look into this
Cute Chicken after I've had a good night's rest.

I also found a nice little agreement between Humanity Holdings and the legal
eagles, to share in the proceeds of the law suit. And they were getting the
lion's share. I'd already found that $90 of each $100 went to the law firm,
now I found that $89 of that $90 went to Humanity Holdings. It looked like
everyone had their hands in the gravy, but that Humanity Holdings were the
main money triggering the action, and also the main beneficiaries of it. What
a bunch of slugs!

I brushed my teeth, and got into bed. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, but
my body clock was in a state of total confusion. The trip to San Andreas had
messed me up badly; the side-trip to Bombay had made things worse. I turned
over and tried to think about nothing, which turned out to be completely
impossible, because a pair of hands invaded my personal space, pulling me
towards a warm and very comforting body.

For a moment, I thought about sex, and then I thought, don't be silly. And
then a voice whispered in my ear, "Herbert, go to sleep", and the next thing I
knew, it was morning.