Dirty Laundry

By John Constantine

"You don't really need to find out what's going on. You don't really want to know just how far it's gone. Just leave well enough alone, eat your dirty laundry."

- Don Henley and Danny Kortchmar

I walked into the Starbucks with the usual dread. Even small groups of people create and environment, and the shop was packed. Yuppie wives mostly. I pulled in behind a very nice looking babe and waited patiently for my grande mocha (double cup, please). I guess I had been waiting around five minutes when Nyralthotep sauntered in behind me, skillfully avoiding a five minute wait in line.

"Cute how you always manage to do that, even in neutral territory, Nyle" I remarked dryly. I certainly couldn't begrudge him the cut in line, but the yuppie wives he cut in front off sneered disapprovingly.

"It's reflex" he replied, leering at the woman in front of us. "Didn't mean to siphon off slack here at SB's".

For a major incarnation of pure evil, Nyralthotep (or Nyle, as we call him) really isn't such a bad guy. He has a wife, and two kids. Met his daughter once at a conference. She just about knocked my socks off. What a looker. And if I know Nyle, she was doing integration by parts in junior high.

"The mark of a superior man is his control over reflex action.", I grinned, "What's up in the realm of chaos and destruction"

Now, we both know he really wasn't going to tell me. But, you never know until you ask.

"Some heavy shit is going down. Another political struggle between the big guys upstairs"

My eyebrows raised. With more eyes than I could ever count, nothing much escapes Nyle's notice. He pulled his sunglasses down and looked over the top of them at me.

"Yea. I put my resume on the Web last night. I'm getting too old for this kind of shit"

Nyle's been working for the dark side as far back as I can remember, which is pretty long in this business. The two of us go back to before we were both asexually reproducing gene packets floating in a primordial pool of hot organic slime. Never once has he wavered in his responsibility. Nyle out on the market. Whatta scoop!

"So, what are you looking for?" The moment those words escaped my mouth I realized how lame it sounded. Obviously the guy was depressed. His illusionary camouflage was almost wilting.

"I don't know. I've been doing this shit so long that I'm getting tired of it." He looked at the pseudo paintings on the wall casually.

"Grande Mocha" I said to the faithful cashier and the coffee slave jumped into action, performing the ritual of the expresso with flawless ease. "Double tall non fat late?", I asked Nyle.

"You bet" Nyle replied with a salute.

I paid the cashier and we moved over to the waiting area, jostling for position. Nyle "accidentally" bumped into one of the cuter yuppie wives and copped a feel.

"Was that really necessary?" I asked, knowing the answer.

"Reflex"

"So, what's the big deal? Are you being put on a quality team?" The idea of a quality team in the forces of darkness sent a shiver down my spine.

"At this point I'd give my left leg to be granted the bliss of a quality team. Things are bad, John. More than the usual screw-ups and strategy teams."

We picked up our steamy beverages and slid over to grab some napkins. Nyle dumped a ton of sugar into his non fat latte and we walked out to the tables on the side walk.

"Not quite a European cafe." I remarked. "But, I suppose one takes what one can get."

"I hear you're leaving as well." Nyle casually remarked as we settled into the warm sunlight.

This was an unusual turn. I thought I had covered my tracks well. I guess with so many eyes...

"In fact, hearing about you going solo was what really pushed me over the edge"

I sipped the "just a bit too hot" mocha, savoring the chocolate, sugar and caffeine concoction as it slid past my tongue. I wasn't biting.

"Fine. Just ignore me then."

"Yea, you're right. We're breaking out to form our own startup. I figure, we are the technology, and we can make stupid decisions as good as the rest of them." I felt kinda guilty. Nyle had come to the belief that if I were to ever strike out on my own, he'd be invited to join the team.

Now, don't get me wrong, I like Nyle. Yes, he's responsible for destruction on a galactic scale. It's true that he's the right hand thing of some very powerful forces of evil. But, it's just a job. At least he isn't a marketer.

"So, like, what would it take for you to come work with me?" I asked. I knew I really shouldn't be making a job offer without talking to the rest of the entities. But, I figured I could talk my way out of it. Besides, all of them owed me a few anyway. It's easier to ask forgiveness than permission.

Nyles named his price and I leaned back and explained the program.

"The deal is, you have to give up the real maliciousness. We're out to save the species from both good and evil."

Nyles nodded his head in thought and stroked his beard.

"We've managed to ransack most of some unused areas of TS (Time Space) where we had stashed a lot of stuff from way back. We've managed to cobble together an editor that is capable of four million year buffering. Block deletes and global replaces with a selection size of greater than 100,000 years."

I was exaggerating a bit. We needed to upgrade our power supply by a giga watt or three to get that kind of performance. But, the equipment we jury rigged together was actually a nice piece of work. Very precise. No aliasing noticeable above two keys. No other independent operator had equivalent machinery, and we were justifiably proud of it.

Nyles is a gadget freak, and he could barely hide his excitement. Black drool was beginning to form at the corner of his lips.

"Hmm." He said, stroking his beard again. "Have you guys been pegged yet?"

Have we been pegged? The whole point was to be pegged. But so far, I was the only one of us to grasp that part of the plan. We'd been pegged every hour since going online last month and he knew it.

"We've managed to keep below their radar so far, but they know we're out there." I replied. "We've got a confounder in prototype, but we could sure use your help."

This sparked his interest. Confounders were his specialty. He could move a star through your backyard without the slightest brush of a blade of grass.