I pulled up a chair and sat down. Kevin squinted up at me, and mumbled something I didn’t catch. I ripped the duct tape off his mouth, taking most of the ‘stach he was working on along with it. “What was that?”

“Please don’t kill me! I’ll give you anything you want!”

It was only then that I realized I was wearing my mask, and he had absolutely no idea who I was. It was almost like i really was just a cartoon superhero, and nothing else.

That was a good thing, actually, but it meant that I would have to choose my words carefully.

“What could you possibly give me?” I asked in a gruff voice, and now I was kind of praying that I could get out of this without him finding out who I was.

He looked desperate, maybe more desperate than the situation demanded. “You must want something!” he babbled. “My parents, they have money, power. They know people. Whatever it is you want…”

“Shut up.” Kevin’s unhinged babbling was starting to worry me. I hadn’t pictured him as such a pushover. “Why do you think I want money, or power? You think those are the only things in the world that have any value?”

“Oh my god, you’re gonna kill me. Oh my god,” he started repeating it over and over. It was ridiculous.

“I’m not going to kill you,” I snapped. “As long as you shut up. Quit being such a baby.”

That’s when he started crying. “You are going to kill me,” he insisted. “I know who you are.”
Woah, wait, what? “Is that so?” I said cautiously.

“You’re Suspect 7!” He blurted out. “You’re the reason we had to move again! They said you were coming to kill us!”

I made sure my voice would be calm and level before I spoke again. “They told you?” I repeated. “Who are they?”

“People that work for my parents! Security people! Oh my god, they told me not to come down but I had to see for myself oh my god no one knows where I am oh my god now you know that they don’t know oh my god…”

“Shut. The. Hell. Up.” This guy was unbelievable. How did Mr. Cool end up being such a wimp? He had his chin tucked into his chest now, and he was sobbing quietly.

“Snap out of it, Kevin. I’m not gonna kill you,” then I added, “if you answer my questions.”

“Anything…anything.”

“Good. You can start by telling me everything you know about Suspect 7.”

He sighed heavily, and then looked up at me. The venomous glare in his eyes was more along the lines of the Kevin Joy I knew. “I know that you’re an escaped mental patient,” he said. “I know that you hate my family for being rich. And I know that you tried to kill my girlfriend, and that’s why we had to move again, because you’re planning to kill us all.”

(If you’re lost, check out my last tooned note here.)

“Here is my proposal to you, Suspect 7. You continue to attempt to thwart corporate evil. I will continue to spin your efforts into dazzling PR for my employers. All will continue as before, save for one small thing

“In exchange for your freedom, you will leave young Kevin Joy and his family ALONE.” The last word came out shrill and screaming in my ear and I cringed away from him.

He smiled, then rose to his feet, dusting off his knees and tittering to himself. I could feel Mrs. Brisby trying to burrow deeper into the depths of my pocket.

It was now or never.

Ignoring my pounding head, I sprang to my feet, still partially tied to the chair. Mr. Giggles’ mouth opened in a round O of surprise as I barreled into him, shoving him towards the thug with the gun.

As the other thug reached for me, I reached up to grab some manacles dangling for the dungeon ceiling, and I used the guy’s body to pull myself up and over him, swinging out through the door into the hallway beyond.

Then it was time for my patented superhero move: running like hell.
I ran blindly, not sure if I was getting out or trapping myself deeper in the building.

I was still half-drugged and out of it when I burst through a set of doors to the outside. Suddenly I was in the brightness of early morning, on a busy downtown street in front of a totally unassuming highrise.

I pulled off my mask as passers-by looked at me strangely.

A taxi honked at the traffic in front of me. A bum asked me for a quarter.

The whole scene was so surreal that I had to force myself to get moving. Not that anyone followed me out of the building.

I started to walk, looking for some familiar marker to orient myself. But I couldn’t focus. All I could think was: Kevin Joy. Kevin. Joy. Kevin Joy.

New Guy, who had shown up at school at the same time that the JoyTech Global Improvement Company set up headquarters here in Ring City.

New Guy, who was always telling Aurora to stop worrying about JoyTech.

Mrs. New Guy, waving my picture around.

“Leave Kevin Joy and his family alone.”

As I tried to wrap my head around it, I felt like I was suffocating, like I was drowning and every breath brought in more water.

Mrs. Brisby’s heart beat like a tiny machine gun, in my pocket, against my chest.

When I came to, the first thing I saw was a bare light bulb swinging over my head, like something had just hit it.

I could feel Mrs. Brisby’s little heart beating wildly in my pocket. I went to move but my hands were tied behind me, strapped to the chair I was sitting on.

My head felt roughly like the time me and Aurora stole Jerry’s Jameson and drank the whole bottle before passing out at the Blood River lookout point.
I tried to get a decent look around, but my mask was sort of sideways on my face and I couldn’t see much. I was definitely in some kind of windowless, unfinished basement. Below the swinging light bulb I could see old wooden shapes, crisscrossed in chains.

I silently willed Mrs. Brisby to take pictures, document everything.

Then I heard a voice say, “Suspect 7 is awake, sir.”

There was a crackle of static, then the room swam around me and I must have conked out again because the next thing I knew, someone was adjusting my mask on my face and whispering, “wake up,” over and over.

I blinked. The man standing in front of me stood back and smiled. “I do have to apologize about the circumstances of our meeting,” he said pleasantly. “The basement setting, all these ancient contraptions. You’d think we brought you here to torture you!” He giggled.

The giggle was creepy. The guy was creepier. He looked like something out of A Clockwork Orange. His clothes did, anyway. He had a perfectly hairless head, no-color eyes, and a long, dark scar running down his forehead.

“Why did you bring me here?”

He laughed. “Only to talk, S7, only to talk! You don’t mind if I call you S7, do you? A bit of a pet name we have for you, yes?” He nodded in a very self-satisfied way. “You need not reply! You need not say anything. Only listen, S7, and listen well.”

As he spoke, I began to struggle with the restrains binding my wrists. I tried to be discreet about it, but then I noticed two guys on either side of the door leading out of the dungeon. One of them was holding the walkie-talkie; the other, a gun.

They both shook their heads at me very slightly, and I stopped struggling. Mr. Giggles seemed not to notice the exchange.

“I fulfill a very unique function on behalf of my employers,” he was saying. “Do you know what that is, S7?” He didn’t wait to see if I had an answer.

“I manage problems, and I turn them into non-problems. I see a threat, and I turn it into an asset. Do you see what I’m saying?”

“You work for JoyTech!” I blurted out, and stupidly, tried to jump out of my chair, which resulted in me tipping over on to my back. My head hit the dirt floor with a thump.

Mr. Giggles came and stood over me, his expression unperturbed. “Thusfar, Suspect 7, I’ve managed to turn your role as a potential threat into that of an asset.

“Each time you have brought something to light that ran the risk of reflecting unpleasantly upon my employers, I have made it blossom into an opportunity to for us promote our role as environmental stewards.

“Indirectly, you have participated in earning my employers acclaim as green thinking pioneers.”

I think at this point I made some grunting sounds and writhed around on the floor a bit.

“Hardly what you had in mind, I know,” his voice dripped with sympathy. “And unfortunately, my employers don’t see you in quite the same positive light that I do,” he paused and sighed heavily. “They’re concerned, S7. They’re deeply concerned that you are on the cusp of becoming more trouble than you’re worth.”

He walked a circle around me, tapping his chin as if deep in thought. I gave one last heave at my restraints and felt something snap, silently.

Suddenly, Mr. Giggles crouched down, bringing his mouth to my ear.

It was only then that I noticed the blood on the collar of his shirt.