Cassidy shuddered a bit as she stepped into the dungeon and began her long descent. She had every reason to be frightened, although fear had never really been Cassidy's strong suit. Even now the idea that Cassidy could possibly die from this incursion was, if anything, a comfort. Cassidy didn't especially want to be in this dungeon or for that matter even on this planet anymore. But Cassidy had made a promise. It was, in the end, the least she could do for her dear, departed friend.
As per prearrangement, Cassidy was left fo face this prisoner on her own, with the guards heading to the other room to enjoy their time as they saw fit. Cassidy took a deep breath, then stepped inside. Barack Worthington was suspended in the center of the room, imprisoned at this point by his broken spirit more than anything else.
"Excuse me," said Cassidy. "We need to have a talk."
Barack was so unused to coherent speech it took a moment for his head to rise up. Cassidy marveled at his generally hideous beard. Most perplexing of all was the hideous little white hairs in the bottom left corner of his chin. Everywhere else Barack's hair was perfectly uniform, if awfully wild. It gave Barack the look of a maddened homeless man, only barely aware of his surroundings.
"It's you," Barack growled. Cassidy briefly thought that he would lunge at her, feebly fighting against his restraints. But instead, his head just plopped right back down.
"What do you want?" he asked, staring at the floor.
"Your help," said Cassidy.
"Right," said Barack, laughing bitterly, still not bothering to look at her. "You took away everything I had, destroyed my whole world, and now you want help. Sure."
"I didn't destroy your world," said Cassidy. "You did."
Cassidy knew from past experience that when she was in a very mean mood, her face took on nasty proportions. It was, Cassidy had been told, much as if she was trying to squint a tiny little insect to death. It made people feel beneath her. It was very opportune, then, that when Barack met her gaze again, Cassidy could tell from his enraged visage that she was indeed squinting.
"Don't pretend like you didn't know everything!" screamed Barack. "I know your insipid little riddle now. I could destroy the fascists...well I was the fascist wasn't I! You think we're all fascists! Your statement was meaningless...utterly meaningless! You just wanted us all to fight each other for the fun of it!"
"No," said Cassidy quietly. "I used the word fascist in the same way you used it, to refer to a form of authoritarian government where the state's power is absolute and individual liberty is trampled. This is, perhaps, not necessarily the most accurate way the word can be used. But it was the version of the word as you understood it."
"Well it didn't work!" shouted Barack. "Look at me! Look at the Social Justice Army! All in ruins, all because of you!"
"Nothing about the fate of the Social Justice Army was directly related to that specific prediction," said Cassidy. "You asked for my advice on how you could destroy fascists. I suggested you enlist the aid of a man who, like you, wished to destroy them. The man in question is a consumnate liar, but I didn't even hide that much from you. I warned you from the outset that he should not be trusted. And indeed, working together you quite splendidly succeeded in doing so. The authoritarian police state of Chicago was thoroughly destroyed within weeks of the beginning alliance. And before you allowed yourself to get sidetracked by Jerry Shankar-"
"I know all about him too," snarled Barack. "It all seems so obvious now. The murders...there were no murders, just accidents...you predicted them, and Shankar would make it seem like he planned them...the phantom army..."
"I actually didn't know anything about that," said Cassidy. "We do know the people who were actually committing the murders. I imagine that Jerry decrypted some nonsensical code from their social media accounts to identify their next targets. In fact, that's what I came here to ask for your help with-"
Cassidy suddenly became aware of the sharp, vicious gaze Barack was projecting at her. Whatever shred of human dignity existed in the man before his latest outburst was surely gone by now. Cassidy sighed. It was truly a pitiful sight.
"You really have no idea, do you..? About just what exactly has been going on...about what Jerry was even trying to do..."
"Enlighten me," said Barack.
"While you've been stewing in here, what do you suppose has been happening over on the East Coast? Word of all that's happened in the rest of the country has long since filtered out over there. They held a state funeral for the country's most beloved reporter, who they believe to have been murdered by bloodthirsty savages. The Social Justice Army is gone, so there's no one to protect them from whatever monstrous threat exists out here. It was the perfect set of circumstances for Antonio Burr to take control of the East Coast completely..."
Barack just stared blankly at Cassidy. In that moment Cassidy realized to her horror that Barack was even more ignorant than she had assumed.
"Who's Antonio Burr?" asked Barack.
"Is this supposed to be a joke?" asked Cassidy, her own face feeling flush. "Look you little piece of stinking excrement- do you think I want to be here? Was this all really just a game to you? Are you mad that we killed your friends or that we killed your toys?"
Cassidy quickly realizes that her statements did not have quite the intended effect. Barack continued to stare at her, and she could see, to the smallest fraction of a second, the way his eyes were watering. The tears started to flow over his beard, giving him a soggy, damp feeling.
"You're...you're right," he said feebly. "That's exactly why...from the very first...no...no...he was in my car...I could have grabbed him at any time but I didn't even...and then after Chicago I...I was so useless...its like I was trying to get points...more fighting meant more death but we didnt even...hold memorial services...anymore..."
"If it's any comfort," said Cassidy grimacing, unsure about the direction the conversation took, "it's not like your people felt much differently about it. From the very beginning the Social Justice Army attracted a certain kind of criminal...the corporate kind...the ones who would destroy their friends, their families, their livelihoods...all for the sake of building big numbers..."
In what could only be described as awkward timing, Barack's restraints suddenly opened back up. Cassidy groped forward a little bit and could see that invisible fence was also gone. Barack was now free, yet at this of all times, he was finally coming to grips with his own helplessness.
"I had hoped to make more headway on you by now," said Cassidy nervously. "But the guards will be here any minute. We need to leave. You can use your augments again, and I strongly suggest you do so or neither one of us is making it out of here alive."
"I deserve worse..." said Barack, still on his knees. "Worse than death...and I could do it...if I overclock it...I could spend a hundred years in this one agonizing second..."
Cassidy could feel panic setting in. She marched right up to Barack, pulled him onto his feet and then, with his ruined face high above her own head, Cassidy used all her might to slap him as hard as she could. If nothing else, the impact appeared to have woken him up, eyes wide open. She started shaking him.
"If you want to be a miserable sad sack, fine!" Cassidy shouted. "Nothing would make me happier than for us to both die right here, miserably and pointlessly! But I promised that I would try to get through to you, because I've seen all the ways this ends now that Antonio is president-elect, with no Jerry to stand in his way. You'll be condemning everyone else in this country to hell. Is that the death you want- like your life? So obsessed with correcting mistakes the right way you think nothing of the disasters to come? Is that really what justice means to you Barack Worthington?!"
As she spoke, looking at the contours of Barack's face, Cassidy felt as if there was something too aggressive in his facial expression. These weren't natural reactions. This was deliberate effort. Had Barack actually followed through on his bereaved pledge to turn himself into a madman?
Cassidy heard the footsteps coming. Her death today had seemed a reasonable circumstance, but the sheer stupidity of the situation was too much for her. A clumsy foolish jailbreak, and for what? Barack Worthington couldn't be trusted. Had Cassidy simply backed the wrong side in the end? Of course Antonio would forgive any transgression but...much as was the case with Jerry, why bother even living if they've already won.
"Get back," said Barack, his voice suddenly filled with heretofore unknown resolve. "I'll try to keep this close as long as I can, but once the shooting starts, I can't protect you."
Now Cassidy's eyes opened wide as she looked at Barack's face and was shocked to see his resolve. For all his hideous facial air Barack had the look of a hero about him, as if he had only just understood his life's true purpose.
"The God of Justice..." she whispered.
"What?" asked Barack.
"Nothing," said Cassidy, hanging back as per Barack's instructions, closing her eyes tight as she heard the din of combat. What a coward she was really, Cassidy thought to herself. All the violence she had enabled up to this point, yet she could not bare to so much as even look at her own handiwork.