The Physics of Betrayal

Rachel fumbled for the keys in her bag, eventually finding the heart shaped keyring her husband had given to her long ago. How long exactly, she couldn't quite remember. The lock clicked. A monotonous buzzing greeted her, as if a giant hornet had taken up residence in their home since she'd left for work. "Honey?" she called out. "Are you okay?" No reply. She stepped into the lounge and was met by an unpleasant, smoky smell. The buzzing had intensified too. It was a sound she now recognized, but hadn't heard for a long, long time. An electric razor.

Rachel frowned, a little annoyed that Mark was likely removing his thick, flowing beard. There was something she loved dearly about it -- the white hairs that shot through the blond reminded her of sunlight bouncing gleefully off an icy waterfall. It suited a physicist. It suited him. buzzzz
The living room table was a mess of cigarettes and empty beer bottles -- Mark had clearly enjoyed his day off. A folded page of a newspaper wafted up and down in the gentle breeze from an open window. buzzz. Rachel moved idly to the table, picking up first the cigarette remains, then dropping them on the carpet as the face in the paper stared up at her, her husband's keen eyes meeting her own. His face was clean shaven, and his wrinkles softened -- but there was no mistaking him.

Her hands shook as she picked it up and read. 'Master Particle. Prior to Alter's alterations. Considered the greatest physicist of his generation. But another talent wasted by the great 'hero'. This paper says Alter is not the answer! We're the only paper brave enough to print a picture like this and'... She stopped reading. Something was wrong: there was no sound.

"Welcome home, Rachel."

Rachel gulped as she turned to see the man in the paper standing behind her. "Sweetheart..."

"Is it really Rachel? No, of course it isn't. It doesn't matter now though."

"I didn't ..."

"I was great, you know. The greatest, they say. I could have changed the world. Now I teach school children basic astrophysics. The order of the planets -- and they can't even get that right without a pathetic mnemonic to aid them. My life -- or at least many years of it -- has been wasted. Can you imagine if they'd lobotomized a young Einstein? Where would we be?"

He slowly removed a knife from his jacket pocket.

"Please."

"How long until you were done spying on me, darling? Until you left me! I loved you so much. In my mind, you loved me, too. But only in my mind! It's all a Goddamned lie! You'll pay for that deceit, I promise you."

"Please, Mark. In my mind, I love you too. I do! I don't know what happened. I don't understand any of this."

He grinned as he stalked forward. "Oh, you know. You're here to watch over me. To report back to them each day, when I think you're working, so you can all laugh at me. Mock me. The great, impotent, Master Particle."

*"I always loved y..." *

The knife was sharp and cut her throat cleanly and easily. She didn't scream as her blood spattered the carpet. Rachel's body fell next to the fallen cigarette remains. It was an hour later, as Mark drank greedily from a clear bottle, his boots resting on his dead wife's carcass, that a gust from the open window turned the newspaper's page. Mark leaned forward, his eyes wide. He snatched the paper up. He read silently twice over, then mumbled a litany of no's. Finally, he swore bloody revenge on the world itself. He looked down at his wife through bleary eyes, scalding tears spilling down his cheeks. How could this have happened? His life had been perfect -- twice! Now he could never go back... could he?

He knelt over Rachel and gently pressed his trembling lips against her forehead. Mark could feel his mind buzzing; could see the sparks leaping from his hands. He felt in tune with the universe's tempestuous vibrations, and he knew in that moment, exactly what he was capable of: The end of everything. Mark got to his feet and looked at the paper a final time. At least they had the decency to erase his wife's -- his assistant Scarlett (pictured above) -- mind, and to keep them together in their new lives. But this paper, this reporter, says it's not enough! It's time to end Alter.

Lieutenant Hanson threw the prisoner down onto his knees in front of Alter. There was a bag over the man's head, and his arms were chained behind his back. "What gift have you wrapped up for me this time, lieutenant?" Alter growled through his mask.

"Morphine. Son of a bitch killed three good officers in the process." Hanson breathed in deeply, then spat a thick, green glob onto the prisoner's bare back. "Modern art, right?" Alter said nothing. "Personally," Hanson continued, "I'd toss this one into a tiny cell and throw away the key. But... "
Alter nodded, as if he understood. Hanson doubted he did.

The superhero had become so disconnected from the real world over the last few years. Once upon a time, he used to patrol the streets -- now he rarely left his gloomy mansion, instead waiting like a spider in a web, for another villain to fall into it. To be deposited into it -- mainly by him and his men. Okay sure. Sometimes by the other heroes, but there weren't many of them left. Not anymore. "You look troubled, lieutenant. Don't worry, he's in good hands. His mind will be erased and replaced by something much prettier. He is to be a bodyguard for the Mayor, you know? Totally subservient. A brand new, law abiding, man.

Liquid streamed down the prisoner's leg, pooling on the wooden floor. "Please," came a muffled, desperate cry, "just kill me."
"Patience," growled Alter. "First you're going to do a little cleaning. Then, well, then you'll get * changed." Hanson frowned. This didn't feel right. It hadn't been in a long time. But... ah, hell, maybe it was still the best solution. He scratched his beard. He was getting old. How much longer could I stay on the force? He looked up at Alter; the superhero's hair bristled over the clockwork mask he wore and was flecked with whites and grays. Things would change soon, one way or another.

"Leave me, lieutenant. It is time I began." Hanson nodded, turned and walked away. Muffled screams accompanied him like a church organ as he headed to the door. Alter walked through the corridors of his mansion, his steps echoing bravely around him. Morphine had been given his new identity, and for today, his work was done. Almost done.

He opened the cellar door and turned on the light. The steps creaked beneath him as he descended. Alter walked to the northernmost wall, then pressed his palm hard against a molding brick. The wall slowly opened. A skinny, wisp of a man was chained against a wall inside the new room. His bones pressed against the skin of his torso, as if any second they might tear out. Slowly, the man raised his head to look at the visitor. His shaggy hair covered all but his emerald eyes, that somehow sparkled even in the dark.

"I've brought you some food, James," said Alter, emptying out a can into a bowl on the floor. Gloopy, translucent meat plopped out. "Please..." said the chained man, his voice hoarse as if he'd swallowed broken glass. "Oh, no need to thank me. I wouldn't want you starving to death. " The prisoner licked his lips, trying to wet them, but his tongue was like dust. "How much... Longer... Must I..."

Alter smiled. "Not long. I have just told Morphine - do you remember him? - what his new identity will be. Even an idiot like him should be able to act for a day. He is my final chess piece to be positioned." "Then you... kill me?" "Oh, James." Alter dragged a stool to the prisoner and sat down. "Do you know that when I killed my beloved Maria, I swore I'd kill you in the same way. I swear now, I will not. Not ever. Believe me, that's not easy for me. But I came back to this time for different reasons. Not just to destroy you. Not just to see my Maria when she was happy "

"Please..." "Soon, the criminals that they think I -you- altered, they will be in their positions. Ready to destroy everything. And you'll be with me to watch it all burn. You'll be blam-" The man on the stool suddenly got up, fully alert. He'd heard something " A creak, perhaps. He rushed into the main cellar, but... nothing.

If someone had been there... had heard him....It would take years to create another time distortion. No, he couldn't change things this time. Plans would just have to be sped up.Hanson waited breathlessly behind the door at the top of the cellar. Each beat of his heart was another thunderous creak, louder to him than the first. He was certain he'd be found, by... whoever that Alter impostor was.But as seconds turned into minutes, he dared to breathe. To move.