32/XXXII. Pass It On (Remastered)

“Motive? What’s my effing motive, you say?” The defendant stood cussing and swearing profanities in court while the hearing for his acts of terrorism was being tried.

Arthur, Johnny and the chief of the MI-7 sat at the back of the courtroom - the darkness enveloped their faces and bodies as if they’re invincible as the man spew nonsense about his crimes.

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This was only possible because of Arthur’s and his team’s work of deduction and interference.

On December 22, 2009, three days before Christmas…

“We weren’t able to do anything yesterday, because I had to recover. We need to move fast. These are the three suspects that I have, we need to check everything surrounding them, we have a clock ticking.” Michael telepathically sent his message to his clones spread out to the city.

“We’ve already listed the available articles, files, and connections of the three suspects that you’ve listed.” Eddie pulled the corkboard out in the living room, sideways from any windows that have a building across to avoid having the MI-7 spy on everything.

Jamison Pauls, Will Jones, they certainly had something, but I looked into their financials, they can’t possibly do this without someone backing them up, or having secret accounts. He thought to himself, while looking at the board.

Another’s Dylan Ward, something about him that screams twisted, like Samael. He has the money, a possible motive, and… procedures since he’s the producer of these kinds of shows, but he’s already arrested. He squinted, tracing the red thread from the picture of Dylan Ward, as a connection to chemical plants.

The third one is already dead – Greg Hughes, but based on his memories, he didn’t do anything like that. He doesn’t fit the profile, but he has these three qualifications – money, motive, and the knowledge. Out of the three, he has the most extensive knowledge about the sense of taste.

Arthur ran his fingers on the grey thread from the picture of Greg Hughes to the people who knew him or around him.

“There’s still Carson… Everything’s a mess.” He shook his head and stepped back to look at the whole board as a whole.

“Is there something wrong?” Irene’s smooth voice changed the ambiance in the living room, especially when she walked in with a plate of hot coco for everyone to enjoy.

For a team investigating a possible terrorism case, they’re a bit of laid back, too laid back.

“Chief, they really are kids and he really did have a team with him.” Mayer observed the cameras and the monitor from across the mansion.

“Forget about the team, all they do is research. The only one that I found compelling is that one – Nathaniel Joseph Smith.” The Chief back from the MI-7 building continued to observe the movements of the people inside the Smith residence.

“Do you think we’re playing house here?” Johnny’s flustered face came running right up to Irene, hungry, and cold, and grabbed one hot cup from the tray as soon as Irene set it at the coffee table.

“*Hmph… you need to be honest to yourself, baby.” Irene smirked and scorned Johnny for blabbering nonsense.

She pinched his cheeks playfully.

At least the light chattering under the evening lights and the warm fellowship lightened the load and a bit of the anxiety that Arthur felt.

“I really am grateful that all of you are here to help with this.” Arthur approached the coffee table and grabbed a cup of hot chocolate as well, and gestured to the corkboard.

“It’s already the winter break, and you don’t have to worry about us. This is the most exciting winter break that I’ve had. I mean, I’m not excited because there are people harmed, but excited that we’re doing this.” Jackson blurted out what everyone thinks of apparently.

Arthur sweetly smiled at his brothers and Irene. He remembered the times he had with the SCD back in Los Angeles.

“Mmmmmm.” Eddie nodded in agreement.

At the very moment, the people in his team were inexplicably inexperienced, and he didn’t want them directly involved in the case, that’s why he only gotten them to do the researches.

There would be a sense of accomplishment without putting them in direct danger.

If in case that they do get directly involved, Arthur planned on pulling them out immediately.

“I’ve seen these people in action, alone in their homes, I’m also now checking their financials. There’s something weird about Jamison Pauls and his receipts.” Arthur paced back and forth as he deeply thought about the files that he saw under his father’s access.

He never forgets anything he sees. He always thought that having a photographic memory were both blessing and a curse.

“What have you found on his financials?” Jackson followed up on that statement, sipping the delicious coco from the cup he just took from the coffee table.

SFX: *Slurrrppppp*

The silence of Arthur as Johnny slurped his coco has been deafening to everyone as they turned their heads to Johnny who sips his’ with so much noise it drowned out the outside chaos.

When Johnny opened his eyes, the stares made him so uncomfortable, “WHAT?” He loudly shouted.

“The financials told me that he’s been travelling up north through a personal taxi service – here.” Arthur pointed at a pier here.

“North Greenwich pier?” Eddie’s face showed confusion, he was as puzzled as Arthur.

“But that pier already closed in the late 1980’s, there’s nothing there.” Jackson confirmed the history of the place as he was born in the same decade it was closed.

“It’s not that something is there, it’s that someone is there.” Arthur curled his eyebrows showing fascination to the place.

“Clone eleven, twenty, and thirty, I need you to teleport to this place and check if there were signs of humans on this abandoned coal mining pier.” He sent three of his clones to check out the place while they are figuring out the connection of the first suspect to the crimes.

On one of the strings connected to Jamison’s picture, a loose string was untied to nothing.

“Why do you have something like that there?” Johnny’s curiosity enveloped him. Bugged by the loosed string, he finally questioned Arthur about it.

“There’s something I’m still checking out with one of my clones.” He answered as held the string gently in the midst of his fingers.

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Michael sent one of his clones to the production company. Jamison was one of the contestants competing for the show, and there was another person he had his eyes clearly stuck on.

“Alright, this lighting is good at this one scene.” The SFX director pointed at the screen with light in his eyes.

The production company was bustling, there were people everywhere scurrying to where they’re headed to.

Camera men, personal assistants, directors, producers, make-up artists, actors, and actresses, prominent and famous people all in one floor, Michael quietly observed everyone, invisible in the naked eye, and looked at the two suspicious people in the shadows.

“All right! We will rehearse the opening one more time, then record it, okay?” The director of the Top Cook held the script in his hands, curled, and banged it to one of the cameras on his right side.

“Chef, please stand here on this mark and walk to the kitchen to that mark, please do it slowly.” The linesman instructed the guest main chef, Pete Cians, to his direction in front of the camera.

“Thank you, please take care of me.” He humbly obliged.

“We will dedicate a four minute video for one of the chefs that we have – Mister Greg Hughes, who died doing what he loved, in the kitchen.” One of the producers mentioned it loudly in front of the crowd.

“Sir… I’m so sorry, but I do not want any video of that rapist in any of my production." The director strongly advocated against the dedication of video for the deceased chef.

This statement silenced the whole floor.

“Nothing has been proven from the trial, and the chef was wrongly imprisoned for five years.” The whisper and sardonic answer took away everyone’s breath as they gasped.

Everyone looked upon everywhere to check where that voice and answer came from but they haven’t located it.

“Who said THAT?!” The director violently reacted.

“WHO SAID THAT!” He’s trying to find out.

“Come on, let it go.” Director Carson took over, he tried to calm down the other director, and lead him to the other room.

“I’m so sorry you had to witness that. Our main director is a bit sensitive with these subject.” The producer that suggested the dedication approached the guest chef.

“Anyone would be.”

“Director Carson is a bit of an open-minded and peaceful, he’s trying to create a common ground for these types of situations.” One of the camera man voiced in.

Michael listened intently to the voices in their heads – their malicious voices. He can hear them closely and the voice that sardonically answered was one of the two suspicious people that he’d been keeping his eye on.

“It wasn’t just a feeling. It was a deduction from what I have gathered. He really is that person. You can’t fool me with your play of words. I’ll make sure to unravel everything.” Michael thought to himself as he observed the scene and listened to their hearts.

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Arthur back home had a clear telepathic connection to the clone in the production and sighed deeply.

The gang took notice of how Arthur drew closer to the board and picked something from his pocket.

“A picture?” Eddie set his laptop down the couch and sprang up to his feet and walked close to Arthur as he gave him a pin.

“Another suspect?” Jackson stopped clicking on his phone as well.

“Jones R. Williams, the first suspect.” Arthur took the pin Eddie gave him and pinned him connected to Jamison Pauls, the loose string now became another connection.

“How is he connected to all of this?” Johnny asked what everybody’s wanted to inquire about.

Arthur stepped back, as if looking at the whole cork board, or in layman’s term, looking at the big picture.

“Jamison Pauls, suspected of harboring the international terrorist, Will Jones, also known as Jones R. Williams.” His statement surprised everyone in the room.

Their wide-eyed expression and their blank stares gave him the impression that Arthur was the only one with the clue about the play on words.

“You’ve checked their background?” Jackson squinted his eyes. He’s truly in doubt.

How can a man be roaming free as a terrorist when he was under arrest ten years ago for violence against women and children? And how can he have a job without the past haunting him?

“How is that possible?” Irene strongly disagreed with this theory, but since they’re all crunched in time…

“I have to go in.” Arthur became adamant on insisting on this theory of his.

“Go in? Where?” Matthew stepped in. It appeared Arthur wanted to confirm his theory the fastest way possible.

“I need to-“ telepathically go in to his mind – That’s what he wanted to blurt out until his eyes scoured across the living room to find Irene holding a hot cup of coco in her hand, standing just beside Matthew – unawares of his true powers.

“I’ll think of something.” He inhaled deeply and darted his eyes back to the board.

“How about the Dylan thread?” Jackson started typing on his phone again as he mentioned his name.

“He’s already in. The guy we’re looking for is someone that can work alone.” Johnny retorted back.

Hours went by until it was ten in the evening.

“Irene, you can return tomorrow.” Arthur picked the girl and the one with the highest energy from the group and told her to rest already.

“I’ll stay. I heard you had a medical episode last night. I want to be here.” She insisted.

Seeing Arthur’s bloodied clothes that morning came to a shock to the princess of the Russian mob.

She’s too dolled and protected by her mother that every time she sees blood, it just freezes her to her core.

“It’ll be too uncomfortable to rest with you here.” He bluntly told the lady.

“Look around.” Arthur continued, gesturing and pointing to the leaning state of the three brothers slouched in the couch, ready to take on their bed and slumber their way to dreamland.

Irene looks around the living room, pathetically trying to argue with herself that it’s okay to be with her fiancé.

But seeing the tired faces of the three and their surrendering eyelids, Irene had no choice but to retire to her hotel this evening.

“I’m only going home because I wanted you to rest comfortably tonight.” Her irritation was visible as she treaded across the room to the front door of the small mansion.

Her eyes rolled as she passed the two boys and two men on the couch, and Arthur who stood near the door and opened it for her.

“We’ve only known each other for a few weeks, days maybe, I thought I have already warmed up to you.” Irene pathetically tried to say her good byes that night, as she clearly did not want to go.

“I’m sorry. Irene, even though… even if we have the same goal in mind. You’re still… You’re still a bit of a stranger to me. I know… know you, but…” Arthur wanted to draw the line between them.

He can hear her thoughts, every single one of them, and even though they just knew each other not for a long while, Irene was still a twelve-year old lady, that has an unstable family life, and can be easily swayed by her emotions.

Arthur did not want to have her misunderstanding her admiration for love.

“I know.” She also wanted to draw the line. She was mature enough to know and remember their agreement – no feelings involved.

“Then, can I be a friend? Your friend?” Irene offered, with a straight face, she wanted to at least establish connection with him at that level.

Arthur looked down, silent, yet considering her offer. “Hmm.” He nodded, not verbalizing his agreement, but simply informing her that he’s thinking about the sweet proposal.

She knew knew what Arthur meant by his reply, but she did not desire to pull him out of his comfort zone just to accommodate her needs.

Irene simply smiled and turned her eyes to the rest of the gang.

“You can’t even keep up with Arthur, losers.” She scoffed, scorning the men slouching on the couch ready to give in the call of sleep.

“Irene, don’t be too hard on them. We’re the ones that are not normal.” Arthur defended the boys in front of Irene as she walked out the door.

She only smiled and waved.

Entering the black sedan with two of her bodyguards and the driver, the car drove away from the small mansion speedily.

Arthur waited at the front door until the car drove out of his sight towards another street.

He smiled back at the lady and as soon as the car was out of eye-shot, his smile distorted to a pissed off frown directly darting his eyes on the camera across the mansion.

“See? He knows.” The Chief back in the MI-7 building heavily invested in the investigation of the residence inside the Smith family.

He already knew Arthur’s connection to the Icy Queen after their debacle on their first meeting.

Arthur sighed heavily and closed the door and got back on the cork board in front of the living room.

“She’s gone. Now what?” Johnny immediately sprang up to his feet and approached Arthur.

The slouching manner of the guys had been a smokescreen for Irene to go back to the hotel claiming they need to rest.

“I go in.” Arthur built suspense again, and as the group grew puzzled by his words, Matthew raised the question they all wanted to hear the answer to.

“In where?” He said.

“Here.” Arthur’s sharp eyes gazed onto Matthew’s as he pointed to Jones’ head.

Eddie stood in the midst of the group unaware of what they were referring to.

“Are you sure it’ll work?” Johnny asked.

“I don’t know, but I will try. We’re horribly crunched on time.” He strongly believed this was the only way right now.

Whether Eon will participate on this charade, and give him the will and power to perform this along with his physical body is something that he needs to try himself.

“Then, what do we do?” Jackson interrupted the sharp gazes.

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“Then, what do we do?” Hagar looked at the angel of the Lord puzzled and distressed, but her eyes shine in comfort as he told her she was not forsaken.

“Return to thy mistress Sarai, and submit to her.” The angel’s answer was not what Hagar was looking for, but surprisingly, it wasn’t as heavy as she felt earlier.

She considered running away more than going back to the mistress the first time she walked on a journey to Shur, but this time, she leaned on her decision to go back to Sarai.

She looked down, seeing her arms filled with bruises, and seeing her baby bump and the fountain to Shur.

Her eyes were filled with worries about herself, about her baby, and about their future.

Michael sweetly spoke, “You have a son, ye shall bear him and I will multiply thy seed exceedingly that it shall not be numbered. You shall call his name, Ishmael, because the Lord hath heard your affliction.” He smiled.

Michael emphasized the word, ‘heard’. Hagar was lucky she met Sarai and Sarai had been so good to her, but it all changed when Sarai became desperate to have an heir.

She pushed Hagar to Abram to birth a son or an heir for the couple, but seeing that Hagar did became pregnant, Sarai became bitter and hateful.

Maybe, it was the fact that Hagar easily got something that Sarai was eagerly wanting for years and years, or maybe it was because Hagar was able to produce an heir for her husband, something that she was destined to do, but cannot due to some circumstances, but Sarai’s hatred grew until it came out as abuse to Hagar.

Every night when Hagar goes to her bed, she would cry herself to sleep due to the pain, the abuse, and the emotions bottling up within her.

The angel of mercy and peace wanted Hagar to know that the Lord heard all of her cries, all of her heartaches, and her desires.

She craved the love of God and with this Michael wanted to let her know that God was listening.

He was always there with her, in her happiness, in her sorrows. The Lord guided her in her path, when she was walking with and without her master.

Even in her darkest days, God was there listening, watching her, and waiting for her to call out His name.

There was no one to blame, but the Lord knew what was best for Hagar and her child.

“He will be a wild man, his hand will be against every man, and every man’s hand against him, and he shall dwell in the presence of all his brethren.” The messenger of God continued.

Maloriel stood afar off, overlooking the three near the fountain. Hagar held her tears and called upon the name of the Lord.

“Thou God seest me.” She burst into tears, and knelt in front of the Captain of the Host of Heaven.

“This fountain shall be called Beerlahairoi, the well of Him that liveth and seeth you, Hagar.” Michael approached the fountain as he looked back to Hagar crying and kneeling on the ground.

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“I…” Arthur remembered the well of the vision of life.

He sighed and looked at the gang, waiting for his instructions and his opinions about their suspects.

“I will use the Oracle directly on him.” His intense and sharp gazes to each of them signified that this was his moment of vulnerability - the moment he will entrust everything to the well of the vision of life – Oracle, the power of telepathy.

“I want everyone to guard my body.”

“We will.” Everyone answered, yet Eddie was still left in the dark.

What Oracle?