“That was supposed to be me?” Lena didn’t know which could possibly be worse—the fact that it was supposed to be her, or that it ended up being Patrick. She pondered this for a few minutes as the group talked in front of her. Soon enough, though, her rage subsided just enough to let the fear in. If they had intended for it to be her, well… what did that say about her current predicament? What surprises awaited her now?! Was she in a terrible danger that she hadn’t previously understood? How in the world would that have worked out if they were supposed to coach her into willingly doing… that…?
“It could be worse, girl.” Makeup-lady fired in her direction, seemingly sensing her newfound confusion. “We could have actually gone through with it.”
“I suppose it’s well enough,” Red-hat said, “her Case Officer probably wouldn’t have liked that too much.”
“You mean her grandfather, don’t you?” Makeup-lady taunted.
“Heh, I suppose.” Red-hat jested along with her. “Whatever gets her off.”
“Alright, enough.” Fancy-man said with annoyance, “We still have work to do before the night is over. He should be arriving any second now, and we should be prepared to receive him.”
Just then, Lena heard a quiet knocking at the door, and the room went silent. It was slow and uneven, and it was a sound that Lena knew she would remember for the rest of her life. She knew what lay on the other side of that door, and while she wanted to see him, well… she was afraid to. Really, she was. She felt awful about that, but could you really blame her?
“Well,” Fancy-man spoke with authority, “get to it!”
Makeup-lady walked over to a corner of the room and grabbed a box with a big red plus-sign on it. Red-hat moved a chair over and grabbed a blanket. The two trashy women just sat in the corner looking like they wanted the night to be over, and Tired-man just kept typing and typing. Fancy-man himself walked over to the door and opened it. Everyone but Makeup-lady gasped as Patrick stumbled into the room. The man before them was not the same Patrick she previously knew. The Patrick she knew was exuberant, cocky, brotherly and a bit annoying. The man she saw now looked like he had been awake for a thousand years—a battered shell. Bruises and cuts covered his beautiful face, and his lips were split open. His shirt was torn on one shoulder, and covered in dirt. Most of him was covered in dirt and grime, actually, and he had an awful limp as he slowly walked into the room.
The worst part was his eyes, as they didn’t look like eyes at all. Sure, they had pupils, irises, and all the other ‘eyeball’ words that go along with a description of them. But normal eyes focus—they looked at things, and concentrated on specific points; they told stories, and communicated thoughts. But these… his eyes just looked vacant, expressionless and unfocused, as if the entire world was revolving without him.
Oh, it was just awful. Motherly, sisterly, and otherly instincts welled up inside of her. She wanted to run to him and comfort him in any way she knew how, but knew she couldn’t. So, the rage that had taken up residence inside of her at the sight of him was became all-consuming. She wanted to find Lord Piggy and destroy him. She wanted to make him pay in any way humanly possible. She wanted to destroy everyone standing in this room; Red-hat, Fancy-man, Makeup-lady—especially Makeup-lady—they needed to suffer.
“Well then, did you get it?” Makeup-lady demanded.
“Let’s show a little courtesy, here.” Fancy-man said, as he led Patrick over to a chair and helped him sit down. Patrick moaned at this and Lena’s blood began to boil.
“Perhaps you should lay down instead.” Fancy-man continued with an amount of concern. “Whatever we need to do to make you feel at ease, we’ll do. You’ve had a long night.”
Patrick looked around the room with a blank, long stare in his eyes. He seemed confused, lost even… like he was waking up in a room full of strangers. When he looked at Lena, however, he attempted one of his obnoxious smiles. The ends of his mouth didn’t really curl up evenly, but she saw the hint of it. Lena held back the tears that were welling up as best she could. She knew he was trying to be brave for her. And given the circumstances, he was doing smashingly. That is, until he saw Makeup-lady holding the medical kit.
“Not her.” he protested, forcefully.
“She’s our qualified medic.” Red-hat declared, “Who else would look after you?”
“I don’t care. Not her.”
“Oh, what’s wrong with me, pussycat.” Makeup-lady said, feigning insult.
“Everything is wrong with you, you fucking psychopath.” he said matter-of-factly.
“Well, suit yourself.” she said dismissively, tossing the medical kit to Lena, “Let’s see how your girlfriend here does patching you up.”
Lena didn’t really catch the medical kit, as much as she fumbled it. “Me?” she thought, “What the hell am I supposed to do with this?!”
Patrick, assisted by Lena, hobbled over to an alcove surrounded with the pointless frosted-glass panels, where a bed blissfully awaited him. He walked over and slowly lay down, with a few pained groans. Lena tried to help him as much as she could. When he finally lay down, she breathed a sigh of relief. At least for the moment, he was as comfortable as he could be. She just prayed that she would find something in the medical kit that could be of assistance.
Unfortunately, as she snapped off the seals and opened the case, she was immediately confounded by the contents as the insides of the case seemed to spill out a thousand-fold, revealing an ungodly amount of bandages, salves, scissors, things, and… well, lots of stuff that looked exactly like other stuff. Yes, ‘stuff’ seemed to be the best word to describe it all. Gingerly, she fumbled through its disheveled contents, hoping that something would steal her attention before she had to admit to her ignorance.
“Don’t worry,” Patrick began roughly, “you’re already doing better than Dragon Lady.”
“Dragon Lady?” Lena laughed.
“Yeah, that’s what we call her back at the office.” he responded weakly, “We have a lot of interesting people we work with—some more interesting than others as you’ve probably noticed. And then there’s her.” He added this last part with a note of disgust. “She’s lucky she’s useful. Unfortunately for us, she’s very useful at a lot of things. She is literally a psychopath. I think that helps her focus, but it also makes her really scary.”
“I think I know what you mean.” Lena agreed, fumbling through the kit.
Once she realized she wasn’t going to find anything particularly useful, she settled on a small bottle of what she hoped was pain pills. Taking a few from Lena, Patrick showed his satisfaction by gulping them down without any water. As Patrick waited for relief to kick in, the two remained silent for a moment. Patrick was the first to speak, after the brief pause.
“You know, you aren’t actually going to get to see my ass. So, don’t ask.”
She giggled awkwardly before responding, “It’s ok. I didn’t want to see your naked ass anyway.”
“Liar.”
“Patrick…” she started, stifling back emotions that were threatening to take over, “Why did they make you do it?”
“That’s how most intelligence work is, really.” he replied weakly. “Find someone with information or access, and determine the price. Everyone has information, access to something, and everyone has a price; but very few people have the information or access you want. The people that do are generally powerful, and powerful people don’t want money, drugs or immunity—they can already buy all of that. So, their price is almost always sex.”