Story #262 - Enforcers

Enforcers

“This must be some kind of mistake.” From the looks of the two Enforcers facing him, Udy Zenno could see they’d heard the line more than once.

“Sure it is,” the left one drawled, letting his hand fall to the pistol at his hip. “Now, how about you do exactly like we asked you to and we get moving?”

Udy nodded. There wasn’t any point in resisting.

“Good,” said the man’s partner, a larger and hairier copy of his companion. “Glad to see we’re getting along so well. Put your coat on, Zenno, then pick up your bag and hand over your keys.”

Palming the key ring from his pocket, he reached out toward the armed men facing him, but got a hard slap across the face for his trouble.

“What the hell?” He managed, stumbling into the wall behind him. “I was doing just like you asked!”

“No,” it was the big one talking again, “you’re weren’t, Zenno. Listen carefully this time. Put your coat on, pick up your bag, and then hand over your keys.”

“What does the order matter?” Coming off the wall, it was all he could do to keep his voice down. He didn’t want his neighbors or the suite manager finding out what was going on, but the two in front of him had no right to treat him so poorly – he paid taxes!

“It matters,” the smaller one said, pulling a thin, telescoping club from his belt, “because my partner says it matters. He’s a very excitable fellow, Udy, and I wouldn’t want to see you get hurt because of his…enthusiasm.”

The threat was clear enough. Enforcers were given special dispensations to bring those with outstanding government conflicts to justice, but they were to conduct themselves in a very specific manner. Udy had heard a number of rumors about the work they actually did, but had never encountered any of them in a business capacity until now.

“Of course,” he said, dropping his voice and lowering his head. It was apparent the men who had come to see him were working only barely within the bounds of the law, and while there was the potential for them to receive a hand-slap from their superiors, he’d get much more than that from them if he tried to ignore their demands.

Slowly, he reached for his coat on the floor and put it on with deliberate care. His bag was next, slung heavily over one shoulder, and only then did he drop his keys into the outstretched hand of the massive Enforcer.

“Good.” The man grunted. “Come with us.”

Udy let himself be led out of his apartment, making sure to stay hot on the heels of the man in front of him. Only a few steps back he could hear the wheezing breaths of the big Enforcer, and feel the rage emanating from him. Based on the little they’d told him about the conflict he was supposedly involved in, it was no surprise they were a bit hot under the collar – preaching religious dogma was strictly forbidden, and had been for the better part of fifty years. Citizens across the nation valued their individual freedom highly, and the notion of being told what to do by any power other than their own desires did not sit well with them. Enforcers were often archetypes of individuality and anger, and when dealing with supposed Preachers, their already low tolerance was stretched to the breaking point.

“You think you can mess with my thoughts, Preach?”

He didn’t bother to answer the man behind him – there was no point.

“Think you can control me, make me dance to your tune? We don’t work like that any more, mind-murderer. We don’t need your stories. You get that?” A rough shove pitched him forward and he missed a step. “You get me!?”

“Yes!” He cried. “I get you.” He lowered his voice. “But you’ve got the wrong guy.”

“Ha!” That was the one in front of him, the one leading them off of the property and into the alley. Udy hoped he they weren’t setting him up for a more violent beating, but they would have trouble explaining how he’d fallen hard enough by accident to break most of the bones in his body.

“I have nothing to preach about, gentlemen.” Perhaps reason would convince them. It was unlikely, but his nerves had started to spin up out of control, and he had to do something to keep his wits. “The churches you loathe are long dead – men are free to make their own decisions.”

“Damn right!” Both said at once, stopping him in front of a long, black car. A quick frisk search followed, and then he was shoved into the back seat, both of his captors climbing in behind him. He could feel the car start to move.

“Look,” he said, trying unsuccessfully to get one of them to meet his eyes. “Maybe I believe in something – something that you don’t – but I’ve got no reason to talk about it, no reason to preach it. You do what you want, and I’ll do the same.”

He could feel the car pick up speed, feel the smooth surface of the expressway beneath them. They could be going anywhere, now. In front of him, Udy saw both men relax, and the larger one smiled.

“Sorry about the slap earlier, sir. I needed to make sure it looked realistic.”

“I – pardon?” The sudden change of attitude confused him. What were they playing at now?

“Word of your faith has reached the High Prelate, sir, and he wishes to meet you in person.”

“The…Prelate?” He’d seen the term in the news – the Prelate was an ultra-conservative dogmatist living on the fringes of society, decrying what individualism had done to moral fiber. All media coverage painted the man as thoroughly insane.

The big man nodded. “Yep. He has questions for you, or so I’m told. Don’t know about what, but it’s not my place to ask.”

Udy sagged forward to put his head in his hands. This had all gone wrong. Faith should not have led him here.


- D