I still couldn’t believe it. The man before me in the cell was none other than Freddy P. Swayne, the world’s most dangerous terrorist or the world’s best secret agent--depending on point of view. I wasn’t sure what to make of him. His face was a mass of purple and blue splotches. The man certainly didn’t look dangerous with his nigh-bald head, misshapen--and gigantic--nose, and slightly flabby waistline.

I couldn’t help but wonder if we’d goofed somehow. The plan went off without a snag. Well, not counting the four guys who’d be pushing up daisies if daisies could manage to eke out an existence on the barren wasteland of a planet.

Still, life wasn’t that bad. We all had our own rooms and the boss made sure the air conditioning never broke down. Hell, we even had our own little ice cream parlor where we didn’t have to pay a damn penny. Our pay was good. We had a dental plan. Things were quite comfortable, in fact. The problem was there was no place to spend our pay. Oh, sure, we could buy extra blankets, uniforms, guns, and the occasional techie toy. I saved most of my money. I figured I could come out pretty far ahead when I left this job.

My job was easy. I didn’t have “special duties” since I basically have worse hand-eye coordination than a dead pig. I never could understand why the boss wouldn’t supply us with the fancy auto-aiming guns. Or hell, I even heard someone back on Earth managed to finally invent one of those laser guns which were so popular in the movies when I was a kid. The point is, I couldn’t shoot worth a flying flip, so I got stuck with being a jailor.

We’ve always had at least half a dozen prisoners at any given time since I had been hired. I was to watch over them and give them food. Sometimes I’d manage to entertain them with a little light conversation every now and then. Oh, and I had to make sure nobody would try to make a break for it. There was a panic button in case someone did try, but I’d never pushed it. I really wanted to push it to see what would happen, but I didn’t want to lose my job. I wouldn’t exactly lose my job--I’d probably be busted down to a janitor or something less pleasant. When I was younger, I was one of those kids that got in trouble for pushing all of the buttons on the elevator. Sometimes I caught myself staring at it, trying to imagine all the things that could happen. As far as I knew, nobody had ever tried to escape. The complex was in the middle of a desert. The whole planet was a damn desert--most of it anyway. It would be foolish and certainly suicidal.

Normally I didn’t pay much attention to the prisoners unless I was bored or in a talkative mood, but I couldn’t help but hang around the cell that contained Swayne. He was definitely not what I expected: a Hercules, Jackie Chan, and double-oh seven all rolled into one neat package. This guy was supposedly a living legend--even if a quarter of the stories about him were true.

I was glad we caught him. He had been trying to sneak into the complex for some reason, and I could’ve ended up quite dead or, more likely, unemployed and stranded here. I don’t think Swayne knew that he was expected. Everybody knew he would come sooner or later. I didn’t know why he would come, nor had I ever asked anyone. If I were supposed to know anything, then I would have been given a memo or something. It wouldn’t help for me to ask anyone either. Questions were generally ignored or given extremely vague answers.

So anyway, Swayne was sitting on the narrow pallet in his cell looking sort of depressed. He kept sighing and shaking his head. I suppose it was hard for even him to believe that he had been captured. Maybe he had gotten cocky with all his successes so far or maybe he was just getting old. I couldn’t tell if there were many wrinkles on his face because of all the bruises though. I’ve heard stories about the guy since I was a kid though. I tried talking to him, but he ignored me. It was time for me to bring everyone some food, so I left.

As I distributed the lunches around, everyone wanted to know about Swayne. I guess they overheard someone talking about him as they brought him in or something. I didn’t have any answers for the prisoners. Some were quite ridiculous--why the hell would I care how big Swayne’s, er, nose was?

What I’m trying to get at, in a roundabout fashion, is how much of an idiot I am. I’ve seen the movies. It’s the most overused trick in the book, but I fell for it like some eight-year old. No, scratch that. An eight-year old would know better. Swayne pulled the “pretend-to-faint-and-have-some-sort-of-epileptic-seizure” trick when I came around with his food.

In retrospect, I should have pushed the panic button instead of opening the cell.

I’d never really been punched before--at least not in the face and certainly not as hard. One second I was kneeling next to Swayne, the next my vision turned into a flash a bright blue light, and I felt myself falling. It didn’t hurt right away. The last thing I remember thinking about before losing consciousness was a vicious stream of insults and curses.

Waking up to a throbbing face, I managed to drag myself out of the cell. I couldn’t see Swayne anywhere. Of course, my eyes were watery enough I could barely find the panic button on the wall. About a minute or so after pushing the panic button--the alarm was damned noisy--all sorts of people surged into the cellblock. I was left to the medics after relating my story. I told the truth and I was sure I’d hear about it later. The boss would probably kick me off the planet. The medics were sympathetic at least. Soon enough my face was feeling almost back to normal. They wanted to drag me to the infirmary to finish up the job. I barely felt bruised at all so I refused.

“All sectors, level five,” the intercom blared over the alarm. It took me a few moments to remember what I was supposed to do for a level five alert. I didn’t much like it, but I had to punch in the serial code to open the emergency munitions locker. I felt a queasy sort of fear in my stomach as I strapped on the Kev-silk vest. Kev-silk was one of the boss’s better innovations. It was a sort of protective piece of clothing made out of Kevlar and spider silk. It was the sort of thing I read about in spy magazines when I was growing up.

The Kev-silk vest was warm and I began to perspire heavily. That feeling in my stomach hadn’t gone away yet. I had to get moving, so I quickly snatched a rifle--I guess it was a shotgun of some sort--a handgun, and as much ammo as I could carry before closing the locker. The handgun went into the holster on my belt. I had always thought it strange to be issued a belt with a holster without being issued a gun as well. The ammo clips attached to the belt also. I hoped all the extra weight wouldn’t pull the belt down and cause me any trouble, or embarrassment.

After making sure everything was secure, I rushed to the computer terminal at the entrance of the cellblock, clutching the shotgun awkwardly as I ran. I quickly scanned my prints and waited for the computer to display orders. I grimaced as I read the message. It didn’t make much sense. Orders were given to all personnel to leave their posts and search for Swayne. It didn’t make much sense to me. Everyone running amok would make it easier for Swayne to escape, or do whatever else he had come here to do.

So I locked off the cellblock and started to search the prison level. I bumped into other guards, of course, but they hadn’t seen any more than I had. Thankfully they didn’t seem to know I had been the one responsible for his escape. I was the only one running around with a shotgun. Nobody said anything about it, but I had the feeling they would either report me or run back and get their own shotguns.

I didn’t care. I wanted to find Swayne. I realized then how angry with the man I was. So he punched me, who cares? That’s not why I was so mad. I was furious that he could take advantage of my good nature as he had done. I was trying to help him, and he has the nerve to attack me!

Oh, he would pay.

He would probably not hang around on the prison level, so I decided to head towards a lift. The lifts were the only way out, so he had to have taken one. I tried to put myself in Swayne’s shoes. To which level would he go? I assumed he had more things on his mind than simply escaping. He still had a mission to do or some such. Everyone would be expecting him to escape, so the ground level would likely be swarming with armed personnel.

I sent the lift to the top floor. It seemed the most unlikely place for Swayne to go if he were indeed trying to escape. I heard gunshots as the lift doors opened. Without thinking, I rolled out of the lift and ducked behind the security counter. Aside from bruising my shoulder, I was quite impressed with myself. I suppose a man can do a great many things when confronted with gunfire.

Nobody was shooting at me. There were at least five more shots before it grew quiet. I didn’t hear an alarm go off so I knew it had to have been Swayne shooting. If there were any guards left alive they would have set off the alarm. I heard slow footsteps, growing softer so he was moving away from me. I was vaguely surprised he wasn’t trying to move with any amount of stealth. Maybe he had already killed everybody on the level.

I thought it seemed impossible for him to have done such a thing, but as I turned a corner in an attempt to follow him I thought perhaps maybe he had--after I had emptied my stomach at the sight. It was difficult to move past that particular point. I had seen death before, of course, but there was just too many dead. There was so much blood. So much.

I’m not sure how I managed to walk by it all without losing my sanity. The only reason I forced myself through there was to make Swayne pay. It was no longer just a matter of him taking advantage of my good nature. I had the feeling the whole place would go up in smoke if Swayne couldn’t be stopped.

Pausing by a panic button, I hesitated. I wanted to push it, but knew Swayne would be alerted to my presence if I did. I doubted I would be able to get support quickly either, so I continued without pushing the button.

Swayne’s footsteps were still coming from somewhere ahead of me. As I went by the second panic button, I realized I had lost my shotgun somewhere. I couldn’t remember letting go of it, but I probably dropped it coming out of the lift. As soon as I realized I was wandering around with empty hands I pulled the handgun from its holster. My hands were sweating.

I had to move slowly. I wanted to get it over with, but if I moved any faster my footsteps would echo just as Swayne’s were. I hoped it was Swayne I was following.

Quite suddenly I heard yelling and more gunshots. The gunshots stopped, but the yelling hadn’t. I could recognize the boss’s voice. I started to run, heedless of the noise I was making. I was almost there.

“Stop!” I yelled as I ran into the boss’s office. I tried not to notice the bodies on the ground. Swayne and the boss were the only two living, and it looked like the boss would be biting a bullet soon if I didn’t act.

Swayne reacted fast. Too fast. Before I could even begin to aim, he twirled around and fired two shots. The first missed. The second didn’t.

The breath was knocked out of me and my feet knocked out from beneath me. I landed pretty hard, biting my cheek as I did. I think Swayne thought I was dead, or dying at least, for he turned his back to me. I wasn’t. I was hurt, but the Kev-silk vest had not been punctured.

Somehow I had managed to keep hold of my gun. My first shot went wide and hit the boss in the leg. Swayne turned just as I squeezed the trigger the second time. His luck had finally run out, or perhaps mine had just kicked in, as my bullet hit Swayne square in the face. He fell to the ground and didn’t move. The boss hit a panic button.

After the medics left, the boss had a long talk with me. Surprisingly, he wasn’t too angry with me for shooting his leg, nor about me being responsible for Swayne’s escape, which he claimed was inevitable.

I didn’t even get fired. In fact, I got promoted.