22nd February
05:29 GMT -4
Global population six point two billion. The target… What do I remember? Male, so half that. Three point one billion. Caucasian… Assuming he hasn't been
race lifted. I haven't
noticed that happening to anyone here, so let's assume that it holds true. Ring, I can barely believe that I'm going to ask this, but what proportion of the world's population is Caucasian?
Approximately seventeen percent of the Human population possess the physical features commonly assigned to that ethnic group.
Seventeen percent of three point one billion is five hundred and twenty seven million. Was he American? I don't remember. No, that isn't going to work, I can't just eliminate… The dead author… Erasmus Fry. Assume he was the older man from the comic. Ring, professional-? No. They didn't have anything to do with each other after the exchange. Translation conventions mean I can't even be sure he was writing in English. Ring, top selling white male authors of the last… Um… Twenty years.
A list appears in my mind.
Narrow by… He came out of nowhere, didn't he? New authors. Ignore doorstoppers, look for things that are both popular and well reviewed by professional critics. Okay, I… I think there was a film? Wait, would Morpheus have freed her and then just left her? Any authors committed to asylums? Oh. That's a depressing figure. Access patient records, any matching..?
No patients in requested category matching stated symptoms.
Okay,
film. Ring, narrow list by authors with at least one adapted work. A
little better. What else can I use? If he were supercharged with inspiration… His work would be
similar to what he wrote before, but it would be… Better developed. Would it? Could I detect that sort of tonal change? Ring, can you do literary analysis?
This ring can cross-reference the contents of knows works but is incapable of detailed analysis of thematic content without significant user involvement.
Okay. He lived alone. Otherwise he would have risked someone finding her. Ring, narrow list. Right. I think he was near the beginning of his career. Arrange by date of first publication, most recent to oldest. Still more names than I'd like, but I should be able to get through them in a few hours. He wasn't a magic user, was he? No, it was the other fellow who trapped her, there's no reason to assume that his home would be warded. Eh, I can add sonic scans anyway. And it's not like it's a bad thing if I find a
different woman chained up in a basement.
First on the list, Joseph Camden. Apparently he's quite popular… When was the last time I read a book? My last work of fiction… Four months? I've only read a couple since getting to this Earth. With these surroundings, fiction's a bit obsolete. Transition.
22nd February
01:31 GMT -8
A block of flats in Los Angeles. Scan. No chained up woman. Next, Douglas Alexander. Transition.
22nd February
17:31 GMT +8
Another block of flats, this time in Hong Kong. She's not here. Next?
22nd February
21:31 GMT +12
No. Next?
22nd February
01:32 GMT -8
!
!!
Got you. Ring, where's Diana?
Unable to detect. Accessing Justice League zeta tube records. Diana is presently located in Mount Justice.
I look down at the home of Mister Richard Madoc. He's sleeping the peaceful sleep of the guilt free, a half filled notebook on his bedside table. Inside him… He wants fame, success and.. he wants to write. She… Rape is usually a power thing, violently enforcing a control dynamic. As far as I can tell he doesn't think about what he does in that way. He regards her as a thing, a vessel for him to get him what he wants. He's a remarkably orange individual.
The woman I'm assuming is Calliope is bound by a thick leather collar, linked by a chain to an iron ring set in the basement wall. She's presently asleep as well, though her rest is far more disturbed than his. There's a… A bucket for her to excrete into, and a hose which I presume-. And the residue of his most recent assault.
I lift my left hand to my ear. Ring, contact Diana, would you?
Compliance.
I hear a ringing tone, though I know the ring is just providing that for my benefit. Half five o'clock in the morning where she is so unless there's been some sort of emergency I imagine that she's asleep. I think she'd want to be woken for-.
"Wonder Woman, go ahead."
"Orange Lantern here. How quickly can you be in San Francisco?"
"About two minutes. What's happening?"
"The Muse Calliope is being held against her will in the home of the author Richard Madoc. A cursory examination suggests that he's been raping her for inspiration."
"Hera. I'm on my way."
"Thank you. Orange Lantern out."
Mister Madoc's home is a detached building located in the Monterey Heights area. Not hugely expensive, but certainly indicating someone who is quite comfortably off. He's made good money on… Three extremely popular novels, a poetry collection and a play? They even let him direct the film adaptation. Whoever green lit it liked it so much they didn't even try and do the usual author rip off. I think Wallace told me that he went to see it. Three Oscars.
We actually did training on how to handle rape survivors. I'm not sure how much of it applies of multimillennial demigoddesses… Ring, notify local police and request assistance.
Notification sent.
I want to wait until Diana gets here so that she can be the one Calliope sees first. I remember thinking once that the correct response to situations like that was counter intuitively one of joy, as the fact that I know about it means that I can make it stop while if I remained in ignorance it would still be going on. It turns out that like many things that are philosophically true it doesn't bear out in reality. What to do in the mean time? Certainly, there are all sorts of horrible things I could do, up to, including and beyond killing the feculent piece of Human-shaped excrement. But, no. That's just not the sort of person that I am.
Giant orange claws manifest in the air around me and then rip through the roof and external walls of his bedroom. I don't chuck them away as that would just make a mess and endanger life. Instead, as Mister Madoc wakes up and stares up at me in terror I deposit the rubble gently into his garden. Lights in several neighbouring houses come on as I drift closer. He's… He's got his notebook out. Ring, disintegrate.
Compliance.
There's an orange flare as it crumbles to nothing.
"Whu-? Who the hell are you!?"
"I'm Orange Lantern two eight one four. I'm here-."
"What have you done to my house?"
"I'm here to arrest you for kidnap, rape and false imprisonment." Orange manacles appear on his arms and legs and hoist him into the air. "I will be handing you over to the local police just as soon as they arrive. In fact-." I create a large orange sigil in the air over the house. "-I'll mark the location for them. Oh, and ring?" I look at my left hand. "Notify all the newspapers, would you?"
