Lost Apocalypse: Chap. 11 "The MacCuthcheon Discussion"

Those who have nothing, have little to fear-- Madison Cawein. 'Charles Widmore' laughed, as he walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of MacCuthcheon Whiskey. "Want a drink?" he asked. Desmond Hume nodded no. "Widmore had a taste for this stuff. I've acquired a liking for it as well. So, didn't you marry Widmore's daughter and have a son? Tell me, how are they doing?" Desmond frowned, "I suspect you now remember that Penny left me long ago. Charlie has grown up and disowned me. One doesn't go through what I have and not be changed! They never did understand!" 'Widmore' sipped his drink, "So you took out your frustration, after all these years, and became a Tracker, eh?" "I became a Tracker," Desmond said, "because I knew first hand what a threat your kind is to this world!" 'Widmore' smiled, "Okay. Okay, Hume, spare me the speech, so you going to try and kill me now? I've taken all your precious weapons away. They're over there on the table. Think you can get to them before I kill you?" "If you kill me," Desmond said, "another Tracker will take my place!" 'Widmore' laughed, "Oh, don't be so sanctimonious Hume! Lamp Post is no "saintly" organization! Tell me what happened to the Ajira six, huh? Your predecessors kept them under wraps the moment their flight mysteriously reappeared. Rerouted them to a secret base. Kept them locked up and under observation. Interrogating them endlessly. Threatening them to say nothing when they were finally released. Then that Littleton girl went insane and killed Austen. What did your group do but lock her up in that prison of yours you call the Santa Rosa Psychiatric Center, which Lamp Post controls. "She was probably the source of the original infection!" Desmond said, "she had been exposed to it on that damn island!" Widmore just grinned, "Hume, you're looking much older these days but you seem to be in good shape!" Desmond smirked, "I guess the fountain of youth turned out to be prolonged exposure to electo-magnetic energy!" 'Widmore laughed, "Well, you soon will only have to worry about the fountain of death, Hume! I'll soon see to that!" Next Chap. 12 "Sources of Evil, Sources of Light"

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