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Chapter or Story
Disclaimer: The Pretender, its characters and base information are the property of MTM Entertainment in association with NBC Studios. I don't holdany designs on ownership. -however-
The below story is the sole property of the author and may not be reprinted without due credit or written permission. If anyone feels the urge to write a story that follows this piece they are certainly welcome to it.
Paralyzed
Part II
by Arkady Bogdanov
Jarod wheeled around the simlab, reacquainting himself with the all-to-familiar surroundings. Being chained to the wheelchair made the place seem all the more more cramped and confining. He suspected that part of this was Raines' revenge for his own time in a wheelchair. Not that it had been Jarod's own fault. Sydney had fired that gun. Still, vengeful behavior and Raines seemed to have little concern for reason reality.
"Why isn't Sydney here?" the Pretender asked. It couldn't hurt to confirm his suspicions.
"You're not his... concern any longer."
"He's the only one here qualified to handle me," Jarod bit out.
"Watch your... mouth, or you will... regret it," Raines whispered harshly.
"I was forced to come back to prevent a death. I don't have to like it."
The ex-doctor nodded into the shadows, and a corner television screen flicked on, revealing Ms. Parker. Beside her sat a man in a dark suit, reading a newspaper. Displayed in a prominent corner was a tray holding a single vial and syringe.
"Every moment..." he wheezed, "of every hour, of every day this... screen stays on. A powerful motivation for... good work. If you fail... this man will not."
Jarod stared at the problem Raines had presented him. It was a simple hostage situation ‘ or so they told him ‘ minimum number of variables, minimum security target not outfitted against serious attack. He'd had the scenario worked out in his head for nearly 30 minutes. The question was how long he could delay before Raines figured him out. Not much longer by now. The doctor,' seemed to be reaching his breaking point. There were only so many non-questions the Pretender could ask before even an abject fool would catch on. And despite Raines' shortcomings, he wasn't that. Parker's life wasn't worth this. Jarod sighed. He at least had a fairly decent idea of how to gauge his captor.
"A four man team, attacking at dawn," he began. "Before the changing of the guard, about 30 minutes. The replacements should still be asleep, and the men on post will be at their least alert. Two of our guys at each door. One team sweeps the sleeping quarters on the west side, and the other takes out the command center. Shouldn't be more than a night communications man on duty. Easy kill." The last words said, Jarod wished he could take them back. They sounded hollow, cruel.
"Continue," Raines gravelly voice was like acid in an open wound.
"From there move on to the captive. In a ten man installation, two guards is the most you can expect. Probably not more than one. With silencers and light footsteps they might not hear you coming.
"Casualties?"
"Possible," Jarod gave a sidelong glance at Willie, standing silently in a corner. "As long as you're not sending the Centre's sweepers things should go well."
Raines ignored his comment.
"Transportation?"
"Hike in from about thirty miles. Exit by air, helicopter if it's convenient."
"Surveillance?"
"Everything you've given me seems to indicate they have a decent system. Use the cover provided by dawn hours, and wear green. None of the commando black or G-Man suits."
"If this mission fails..."
"Parker dies. It won't by my hand."
"For her sake... it had better not," Raines had fallen into a passively threatening voice, and turned to Willie. "Take him back."
"When this works, I'd like my legs back," Jarod said, spinning the wheelchair expertly to go.
"You'll walk... the day Mr. Parker regains his previous authority," old man wheezed away, trailing his oxygen cart behind him. Willie indicated the door, vaguely fingering his handgun."
"Even in a wheelchair I could take you..." Jarod murmured, and wheeled away.
****************
Inwardly the Pretender moaned as he re-entered his apartment. Apparently Raines had called in the carpenter while the sim ran. The entire room was now wheelchair accessible, from the bed to a set of stairs outfitted with ramp.
So Dr. Mengala really was planning to keep him half-paralyzed. A dangerous proposition. In a matter of time tissue damage would begin. His legs would deteriorate rapidly, to the point when even if Raines took him off the drugs it would take an age of physical therapy to correct the damage. A similar problem lay in the mental aspect.
As the months wore on the effect on his spirits would worsen. Certainly an added bonus to Raines, who could only benefit from a Pretender without the will to fight. Knowing this fact would make no ultimate difference.
Jarod gazed up to the television screen, tuned to Parker's Renewal Wing room. She couldn't stay unconscious permanently. When the coma lifted the Centre lost itself a valuable method of blackmail. And he could take full advantage of the situation.
A feeling of boredom pervaded the room as it never had in the early years. Before his first escape living in the apartment was an easy existence.
All his meals brought to him, plenty of books to read and activities to occupy the mind. In light of present circumstances all of those things seemed empty, useless pursuits. The normal human interaction which Jarod had come to thrive on was gone. To someone who lived most of his life in seclusion people were like a drug. Some special indulgence he had come to take for granted until it was gone. Being limited to Raines, his henchmen, and Lyle paled in comparison. Even on the lamb the Pretender held frequent conversations with Sydney. Mengala obviously had issues with the good doctor. That last umbilical was severed. There was no one...
A faint tapping came from the far corner, as if on cue. Twice, three times, and twice again. Jarod looked casually to one side. He could only imagine the number of video cameras hardwired to his room. Just barely out of sight beyond a vent covering Angelo crouched, his eyes large and round. The Pretender scratched his head in acknowledgment, and began to circle the room as if in search of something.
On the second circuit he paused in front of the sofa a moment, before gathering all the cushions possible in his lap. The observation techs would be scratching their heads at this point, confused. Someone might call Raines in a moment. Any suspicious behavior would demand immediate action.
Jarod wheeled himself into the corner and dumped all the cushions on the floor. As luck would have it he was as far as was possible from the Parker television. Perfect for the scene the Pretender wanted to create. With all the frustration and anxiety that could be mustered he thrust himself out of the chair and shoved it away. Curling into the fetal position was difficult when one was half-paralyzed; that only added to the affect. Jarod let loose a carefully timed whimper and rocked his torso back and forth. The techs had likely called Raines, and without a doubt the corpse would be gloating over his ‘broken' Pretender's image in moments. But Jarod had his privacy for the time. Raines would want him to feel lonely and helpless.
"Talk quietly," he murmured, and watched Angelo nod.
"Jarod... okay?"
"No," the Pretender moaned briefly. Best not to ham it up too much. Raines was no fool; he might catch on eventually.
"Legs not working?"
"Bad medicine from Raines," Angelo's eyes grew large in their sockets. They couldn't talk much longer with out the risk of a mike picking something up. Jarod whimpered again for effect before continuing, wondering if the other understood his act completely.
"Find Sydney, okay?" the empath nodded. "Tell him, Jarod's okay. Bad legs, needs his help." Angelo moved to go.
"Wait," he whispered loudly, flinching at what seemed almost like a yell as the man-child stopped. "Raines won't let me talk. Parker in danger. Blackmail." The last word held an ominous ring. Angelo turned, frightened, and crawled off down the vent. Sydney would know by morning, certainly.
Jarod closed his eyes and lay completely still. Two forlorn tears had appeared on his cheek, maximizing the effect. A tear-stained face in the morning was icing on the cake. He decided to sleep there in the corner for the night. No display of false bravado was necessary. His little drama was sufficient. Someone, Willie, or one of Raines' other goons, would certainly be in to help him in the morning.
****************
"Sydney?" Broots poked his head into Parker's room in the Renewal wing. He had come there on a hunch that the doctor would be checking up on her. He did that a lot now. Certainly there was nothing else for Syd, with the clone long gone and Jarod inaccessible, but Broots liked to think it was more out of the older man's paternal side. And a need to stand over someone, be a guardian. Sydney had lost the others, but he could adopt Parker to protect. In many ways he always had.
"Yes, Broots?" the doctor looked up and blinked. Until then he had been engaged in a staring contest with the steely-eyed sweeper that had taken up residence in Parker's room, unasked-for and unexplained. He was grim and silent, one of Raines' trained monkeys unfamiliar to Sydney. Something in his eye suggested determination, but in what was the question.
"I have some of the figures you asked me to check up on," the younger man mumbled, surprised at the sweeper's presence.
"No need to bother Parker with local real estate then," or let the sweeper in on their business. "The hallway will do." Broots nodded nervously and turned tail to leave, followed closely by the doctor. Having discussions out in Centre passages could be the safest place to meet as long as they watched their backs and stood out of earshot of surveillance cameras. The two men found a random corner and assumed appropriate positions as if by clockwork. They were getting too good at it.
"If Raines wrote down what he did to Jarod to keep him in line it's not in the system." Broots flipped open a file folder and began pointing at random words and graphics as he spoke. In the past most of what the younger man found could be explained away as clues on the trail of Jarod. With the search ended their excuse was lost, and Broots had conveniently chosen some Internet classifieds as his ‘information,' as he spoke in low tones. "But I did find something interesting." Sydney played along, pantomiming interest in Delaware's sparse condominium pickings.
"What's that?"
"Some kind of drug showing up on Jarod's blood work. Probably an experimental side project of Raines' that came in handy. Lots of the kind of chemicals you might find in muscle relaxants and paralytics, but nothing I've ever heard of before. Though I'm no doctor. Not even a--,"
"Broots!" Sydney stopped him before he rambled on his way into the next week. "That explains the wheelchair, then. Hard to escape without the use of one's legs."
"But Jarod cooperating? There wasn't anything in his blood to suggest they had him doped into willingly going along with Raines," he poked at a picture of a large Dover condominium, maintaining the charade.
"There must be something else driving Jarod then," Sydney concluded. "Bigger than his own life. Raines knows that beating and threatening Jarod will get him nowhere. Not when he knows his own value to the Centre. But what else could there be?" Both fell silent, neither having any immediate ideas.
A slight wail emanated from down the hallway. Angelo had appeared in a doorway, shifty and nervous in the open. He was standing beside them in a moment, tugging persistently at one of Sydney's sleeves.
"Talk." he said simply, and cast a wary glance up the hallway. Following his eyes Syd could see Mr. Lyle approaching, curious about the noise.
"Easy now," the doctor murmured soothingly. "What seems to be the problem?"
"Jarod talk," Angelo whispered so loudly that Broots winced, afraid Lyle might have heard.
"We'll straighten this out in my office then," Sydney said in normal tone, and marched him and Broots right past Lyle's raised eyebrow. Safe inside his office he found a chair for the empath to sit in and calm down a minute. Hopefully here they would not be bothered.
"You talked with Jarod?" Angelo nodded.
"What did he say?"
"Jarod o-kay. Bad legs," he managed. "Jarod o-kay."
Sydney sighed. At least it confirmed what they already knew."
"Anything else?" he asked. "Anything that can help us at all? Please, Angelo." There was more desperation and insistence in the doctor's voice than he realized. The empath looked like he was almost at his breaking point.
"Parker in danger. Blackmail!" Angelo said triumphantly. "Blackmail, won't let Jarod talk. Help. Help!" he almost collapsed in on himself. They had all they could need out of the poor man-child. Broots gaped.
"Ms. Parker would throw a fit if she knew..." the look on Sydney's face silenced him.
"We won't tell her, then," he shot back. "And damn Raines for pulling this while she's halfway gone. Her father can't know the games he's playing."
"What can we do?" Broots was helpless when it came to brainstorming this kind of idea.
"You start pulling information on paralytics. I'll need night reading."
"Where will you be?"
"Standing by Parker. One of us needs to be with her every minute from now on. If Raines tries something one of us needs to be there to stop him." Sydney reached into his desk and pulled out a familiar object. Parker's handgun had rested there in its holster since Jarod's capture, waiting for her return. It might come in handy now. He tucked it a jacket pocket for the moment.
Broots' eyes widened and he disappeared wordlessly. Sydney turned back to Angelo, who had been sitting quietly for the past couple minutes awaiting instructions.
"Watch Jarod," the doctor murmured. "Find me if anything bad happens." The empath vanished out the door, probably headed for the nearest air vent or exhaust tube. However he managed to speak to Jarod in the first place. Perhaps in time he could take the Pretender out with him. Sydney headed for the door himself, and Ms. Parker. The sweeper had a purpose there and he knew it now. And might need to stop it.
****************
"Mr. Raines," Lyle appeared out of nowhere by the walking corpse's side. It was early morning now, and he had been headed to Jarod's apartment. They had yesterday's sim to discuss.
"What," he hissed.
"I thought you should know..." Lyle trailed off a moment under an icy glare. Raines was in no mood for conversation. "Sydney and Broots may be snooping around where they don't belong. When I walked passed them with Angelo, Syd ushered both to his office. Ever since he's been holding a vigil at Parker's side. They might know something by now--"
"Possible," Raines cut him off. "If anything... more happens... report back to ... me alone."
"Agreed," Lyle said, but the other had already crept out of earshot. He moved quickly for someone who dragged a cart wherever he went. Perhaps because now even his crooked frame towered over a wheelchair-bound Pretender.
****************
The door to Jarod's quarters was flanked by two sweepers, as ordered. One would need to stay by the door while the other, Willie entered with him to hoist Jarod out of his nest. Last night's episode was a pleasant surprise to Raines. He had not expected the Pretender to break down so quickly. It would make his work far easier.
Jarod still lay curled up in the corner, his face tear-stained and angst-ridden. He looked to be having a bad dream; his arms and body flailed about to the waist, where all movement was prevented by paralysis. A truly humorous picture, really; certainly a pity they had work to do. It would have been better to let him stew in his misery for a day or two.
With a nod Willie crossed the room and shook Jarod briskly awake. A dark, temporarily confused look crossed his eyes as the sweeper hoisted him bodily into the waiting wheelchair. Raines entertained a brief notion that the Pretender might have been faking the whole scene, before dismissing it to speak.
"Not feeling... well?"
"Imagine waking up from a terrible nightmare to the sight of a walking corpse. That's how I feel." Jarod gave his adversary a long, hard stare. He had been having a nightmare. It was a flashback to the day of his capture. Willie had missed Mr. Parker and hit is daughter instead. He was holding Parker in his arms, trying to stop the bleeding. It was rushing, pouring out all over her clothing, his hands, the pavement... everywhere he looked there was blood. She'd be dead in a minute. Jarod had to do something, anything to save her rapidly fading heartbeat. Then Raines appeared, much like he had just now, dragging Jarod away and leaving Parker to die. The terrible feeling of absolute helplessness had only been interrupted by the sound of Willie's hand on the door. A split second decision made him pantomime a continued nightmare. Better to lead Raines to believe he was in a far more weak state than was true. It would buy him time in the future.
"Clean up... you have fifteen... minutes," the triumphant look on his face made Raines look like a pale caricature of a jack ‘o lantern retreating into night. Clearly his act was having the desired effect.
Willie attempted to push Jarod toward the bathroom, but the Pretender shook him off with a brisk tug of the wheel. He could still handle using the toilet by himself. The sweeper shrugged wordlessly and waited by the door. Jarod changed quickly, dropping his soiled clothes in a convenient corner. Since the Centre enjoyed it so much they could clean up after him. He was anxious to know how the sim went. Raines would undoubtedly find a way to twist the outcome into tightening his hold on Jarod. He had a feeling he already knew how.
****************
Jarod's ride to the simlab was quiet and uneventful. He had hoped for some glimpse of Sydney as with the day before, but given the early hour it seemed to be, the doctor was undoubtedly not yet in. Inwardly Jarod cursed Raines for taking his watch and other personal effects. He had taken for granted the comfort and that material goods could provide. That would never happen again.
The door to the lab had always seemed to Jarod something like a portal between worlds. Outside there was life, if Centre-style, people moving from place to place with a purpose in their step and a destination in mind. Inside there was only the Pretender, a sim, and taskmaster with veiled threat in hand. And all sense of continuous time was erased, replaced only with a concept of desperate, life-rending urgency. Inside it felt hollow, always unreal.
At the door Willie took charge of Jarod's wheelchair. There was no shaking him this time. In the center of the lab there was one seat, perhaps the same thing they had held him restrained in not so very long ago. The sweeper lifted him bodily out of his chair and into the very stationary chair, all the while conscious of how easy it would be to reach around Willie's back and pull the handgun that he had left carelessly unguarded. So easy and yet so entirely impossible.
The sweeper took his wheelchair and vanished through the door, leaving him to wait for Mr. Raines' arrival. They left Jarod there alone, vulnerable, in order to disconcert him. The secret lay in knowing their tricks well enough to counteract the effects, while simultaneously putting on the act of being disturbed by it all. He waged a temporary staring contest with one of the surveillance cameras before looking away in mock disgust. One of the few benefits Jarod had with the simlab was his complete familiarity with the surroundings. He had grown up here, in the sort of land that time forgot. The walking corpse would have serious trouble making any intimidation tactics truly sink in.
It was perhaps no more than five minutes before Raines wheezed in, complete with oxygen cart and neat manila folder tucked under one arm. The moment of truth. Doctor Death nearly took Jarod's head off with the file, giving him a few brief seconds to read.
"One fatality." Raines growl would have oozed gravel if it were possible.
Jarod looked up from his reading, uncaring. "I told you not to send sweepers to do a man's job," he tossed the folder
on the floor, not caring to read about the victims.
"This is not... an acceptable... outcome," the skeleton glared down at him.
"I upheld my end of the bargain. There was an incompetence clause, if you recall," Jarod stared right back.
"Next time... nothing less than... complete success," Mr. Raines stated.
"Complete neutralization..." the Pretender cringed.
"... and no... fatalities."
"I can't guarantee you something that isn't in my power!" Jarod insisted, allowing his voice to rise."
"For Parker's sake... you will." The corpse continued on into a new sim, but he only half-listened. It seemed that saving one friend might mean killing scores of others.
End of part 2.
The below story is the sole property of the author and may not be reprinted without due credit or written permission. If anyone feels the urge to write a story that follows this piece they are certainly welcome to it.
Paralyzed
Part II
by Arkady Bogdanov
Jarod wheeled around the simlab, reacquainting himself with the all-to-familiar surroundings. Being chained to the wheelchair made the place seem all the more more cramped and confining. He suspected that part of this was Raines' revenge for his own time in a wheelchair. Not that it had been Jarod's own fault. Sydney had fired that gun. Still, vengeful behavior and Raines seemed to have little concern for reason reality.
"Why isn't Sydney here?" the Pretender asked. It couldn't hurt to confirm his suspicions.
"You're not his... concern any longer."
"He's the only one here qualified to handle me," Jarod bit out.
"Watch your... mouth, or you will... regret it," Raines whispered harshly.
"I was forced to come back to prevent a death. I don't have to like it."
The ex-doctor nodded into the shadows, and a corner television screen flicked on, revealing Ms. Parker. Beside her sat a man in a dark suit, reading a newspaper. Displayed in a prominent corner was a tray holding a single vial and syringe.
"Every moment..." he wheezed, "of every hour, of every day this... screen stays on. A powerful motivation for... good work. If you fail... this man will not."
Jarod stared at the problem Raines had presented him. It was a simple hostage situation ‘ or so they told him ‘ minimum number of variables, minimum security target not outfitted against serious attack. He'd had the scenario worked out in his head for nearly 30 minutes. The question was how long he could delay before Raines figured him out. Not much longer by now. The doctor,' seemed to be reaching his breaking point. There were only so many non-questions the Pretender could ask before even an abject fool would catch on. And despite Raines' shortcomings, he wasn't that. Parker's life wasn't worth this. Jarod sighed. He at least had a fairly decent idea of how to gauge his captor.
"A four man team, attacking at dawn," he began. "Before the changing of the guard, about 30 minutes. The replacements should still be asleep, and the men on post will be at their least alert. Two of our guys at each door. One team sweeps the sleeping quarters on the west side, and the other takes out the command center. Shouldn't be more than a night communications man on duty. Easy kill." The last words said, Jarod wished he could take them back. They sounded hollow, cruel.
"Continue," Raines gravelly voice was like acid in an open wound.
"From there move on to the captive. In a ten man installation, two guards is the most you can expect. Probably not more than one. With silencers and light footsteps they might not hear you coming.
"Casualties?"
"Possible," Jarod gave a sidelong glance at Willie, standing silently in a corner. "As long as you're not sending the Centre's sweepers things should go well."
Raines ignored his comment.
"Transportation?"
"Hike in from about thirty miles. Exit by air, helicopter if it's convenient."
"Surveillance?"
"Everything you've given me seems to indicate they have a decent system. Use the cover provided by dawn hours, and wear green. None of the commando black or G-Man suits."
"If this mission fails..."
"Parker dies. It won't by my hand."
"For her sake... it had better not," Raines had fallen into a passively threatening voice, and turned to Willie. "Take him back."
"When this works, I'd like my legs back," Jarod said, spinning the wheelchair expertly to go.
"You'll walk... the day Mr. Parker regains his previous authority," old man wheezed away, trailing his oxygen cart behind him. Willie indicated the door, vaguely fingering his handgun."
"Even in a wheelchair I could take you..." Jarod murmured, and wheeled away.
****************
Inwardly the Pretender moaned as he re-entered his apartment. Apparently Raines had called in the carpenter while the sim ran. The entire room was now wheelchair accessible, from the bed to a set of stairs outfitted with ramp.
So Dr. Mengala really was planning to keep him half-paralyzed. A dangerous proposition. In a matter of time tissue damage would begin. His legs would deteriorate rapidly, to the point when even if Raines took him off the drugs it would take an age of physical therapy to correct the damage. A similar problem lay in the mental aspect.
As the months wore on the effect on his spirits would worsen. Certainly an added bonus to Raines, who could only benefit from a Pretender without the will to fight. Knowing this fact would make no ultimate difference.
Jarod gazed up to the television screen, tuned to Parker's Renewal Wing room. She couldn't stay unconscious permanently. When the coma lifted the Centre lost itself a valuable method of blackmail. And he could take full advantage of the situation.
A feeling of boredom pervaded the room as it never had in the early years. Before his first escape living in the apartment was an easy existence.
All his meals brought to him, plenty of books to read and activities to occupy the mind. In light of present circumstances all of those things seemed empty, useless pursuits. The normal human interaction which Jarod had come to thrive on was gone. To someone who lived most of his life in seclusion people were like a drug. Some special indulgence he had come to take for granted until it was gone. Being limited to Raines, his henchmen, and Lyle paled in comparison. Even on the lamb the Pretender held frequent conversations with Sydney. Mengala obviously had issues with the good doctor. That last umbilical was severed. There was no one...
A faint tapping came from the far corner, as if on cue. Twice, three times, and twice again. Jarod looked casually to one side. He could only imagine the number of video cameras hardwired to his room. Just barely out of sight beyond a vent covering Angelo crouched, his eyes large and round. The Pretender scratched his head in acknowledgment, and began to circle the room as if in search of something.
On the second circuit he paused in front of the sofa a moment, before gathering all the cushions possible in his lap. The observation techs would be scratching their heads at this point, confused. Someone might call Raines in a moment. Any suspicious behavior would demand immediate action.
Jarod wheeled himself into the corner and dumped all the cushions on the floor. As luck would have it he was as far as was possible from the Parker television. Perfect for the scene the Pretender wanted to create. With all the frustration and anxiety that could be mustered he thrust himself out of the chair and shoved it away. Curling into the fetal position was difficult when one was half-paralyzed; that only added to the affect. Jarod let loose a carefully timed whimper and rocked his torso back and forth. The techs had likely called Raines, and without a doubt the corpse would be gloating over his ‘broken' Pretender's image in moments. But Jarod had his privacy for the time. Raines would want him to feel lonely and helpless.
"Talk quietly," he murmured, and watched Angelo nod.
"Jarod... okay?"
"No," the Pretender moaned briefly. Best not to ham it up too much. Raines was no fool; he might catch on eventually.
"Legs not working?"
"Bad medicine from Raines," Angelo's eyes grew large in their sockets. They couldn't talk much longer with out the risk of a mike picking something up. Jarod whimpered again for effect before continuing, wondering if the other understood his act completely.
"Find Sydney, okay?" the empath nodded. "Tell him, Jarod's okay. Bad legs, needs his help." Angelo moved to go.
"Wait," he whispered loudly, flinching at what seemed almost like a yell as the man-child stopped. "Raines won't let me talk. Parker in danger. Blackmail." The last word held an ominous ring. Angelo turned, frightened, and crawled off down the vent. Sydney would know by morning, certainly.
Jarod closed his eyes and lay completely still. Two forlorn tears had appeared on his cheek, maximizing the effect. A tear-stained face in the morning was icing on the cake. He decided to sleep there in the corner for the night. No display of false bravado was necessary. His little drama was sufficient. Someone, Willie, or one of Raines' other goons, would certainly be in to help him in the morning.
****************
"Sydney?" Broots poked his head into Parker's room in the Renewal wing. He had come there on a hunch that the doctor would be checking up on her. He did that a lot now. Certainly there was nothing else for Syd, with the clone long gone and Jarod inaccessible, but Broots liked to think it was more out of the older man's paternal side. And a need to stand over someone, be a guardian. Sydney had lost the others, but he could adopt Parker to protect. In many ways he always had.
"Yes, Broots?" the doctor looked up and blinked. Until then he had been engaged in a staring contest with the steely-eyed sweeper that had taken up residence in Parker's room, unasked-for and unexplained. He was grim and silent, one of Raines' trained monkeys unfamiliar to Sydney. Something in his eye suggested determination, but in what was the question.
"I have some of the figures you asked me to check up on," the younger man mumbled, surprised at the sweeper's presence.
"No need to bother Parker with local real estate then," or let the sweeper in on their business. "The hallway will do." Broots nodded nervously and turned tail to leave, followed closely by the doctor. Having discussions out in Centre passages could be the safest place to meet as long as they watched their backs and stood out of earshot of surveillance cameras. The two men found a random corner and assumed appropriate positions as if by clockwork. They were getting too good at it.
"If Raines wrote down what he did to Jarod to keep him in line it's not in the system." Broots flipped open a file folder and began pointing at random words and graphics as he spoke. In the past most of what the younger man found could be explained away as clues on the trail of Jarod. With the search ended their excuse was lost, and Broots had conveniently chosen some Internet classifieds as his ‘information,' as he spoke in low tones. "But I did find something interesting." Sydney played along, pantomiming interest in Delaware's sparse condominium pickings.
"What's that?"
"Some kind of drug showing up on Jarod's blood work. Probably an experimental side project of Raines' that came in handy. Lots of the kind of chemicals you might find in muscle relaxants and paralytics, but nothing I've ever heard of before. Though I'm no doctor. Not even a--,"
"Broots!" Sydney stopped him before he rambled on his way into the next week. "That explains the wheelchair, then. Hard to escape without the use of one's legs."
"But Jarod cooperating? There wasn't anything in his blood to suggest they had him doped into willingly going along with Raines," he poked at a picture of a large Dover condominium, maintaining the charade.
"There must be something else driving Jarod then," Sydney concluded. "Bigger than his own life. Raines knows that beating and threatening Jarod will get him nowhere. Not when he knows his own value to the Centre. But what else could there be?" Both fell silent, neither having any immediate ideas.
A slight wail emanated from down the hallway. Angelo had appeared in a doorway, shifty and nervous in the open. He was standing beside them in a moment, tugging persistently at one of Sydney's sleeves.
"Talk." he said simply, and cast a wary glance up the hallway. Following his eyes Syd could see Mr. Lyle approaching, curious about the noise.
"Easy now," the doctor murmured soothingly. "What seems to be the problem?"
"Jarod talk," Angelo whispered so loudly that Broots winced, afraid Lyle might have heard.
"We'll straighten this out in my office then," Sydney said in normal tone, and marched him and Broots right past Lyle's raised eyebrow. Safe inside his office he found a chair for the empath to sit in and calm down a minute. Hopefully here they would not be bothered.
"You talked with Jarod?" Angelo nodded.
"What did he say?"
"Jarod o-kay. Bad legs," he managed. "Jarod o-kay."
Sydney sighed. At least it confirmed what they already knew."
"Anything else?" he asked. "Anything that can help us at all? Please, Angelo." There was more desperation and insistence in the doctor's voice than he realized. The empath looked like he was almost at his breaking point.
"Parker in danger. Blackmail!" Angelo said triumphantly. "Blackmail, won't let Jarod talk. Help. Help!" he almost collapsed in on himself. They had all they could need out of the poor man-child. Broots gaped.
"Ms. Parker would throw a fit if she knew..." the look on Sydney's face silenced him.
"We won't tell her, then," he shot back. "And damn Raines for pulling this while she's halfway gone. Her father can't know the games he's playing."
"What can we do?" Broots was helpless when it came to brainstorming this kind of idea.
"You start pulling information on paralytics. I'll need night reading."
"Where will you be?"
"Standing by Parker. One of us needs to be with her every minute from now on. If Raines tries something one of us needs to be there to stop him." Sydney reached into his desk and pulled out a familiar object. Parker's handgun had rested there in its holster since Jarod's capture, waiting for her return. It might come in handy now. He tucked it a jacket pocket for the moment.
Broots' eyes widened and he disappeared wordlessly. Sydney turned back to Angelo, who had been sitting quietly for the past couple minutes awaiting instructions.
"Watch Jarod," the doctor murmured. "Find me if anything bad happens." The empath vanished out the door, probably headed for the nearest air vent or exhaust tube. However he managed to speak to Jarod in the first place. Perhaps in time he could take the Pretender out with him. Sydney headed for the door himself, and Ms. Parker. The sweeper had a purpose there and he knew it now. And might need to stop it.
****************
"Mr. Raines," Lyle appeared out of nowhere by the walking corpse's side. It was early morning now, and he had been headed to Jarod's apartment. They had yesterday's sim to discuss.
"What," he hissed.
"I thought you should know..." Lyle trailed off a moment under an icy glare. Raines was in no mood for conversation. "Sydney and Broots may be snooping around where they don't belong. When I walked passed them with Angelo, Syd ushered both to his office. Ever since he's been holding a vigil at Parker's side. They might know something by now--"
"Possible," Raines cut him off. "If anything... more happens... report back to ... me alone."
"Agreed," Lyle said, but the other had already crept out of earshot. He moved quickly for someone who dragged a cart wherever he went. Perhaps because now even his crooked frame towered over a wheelchair-bound Pretender.
****************
The door to Jarod's quarters was flanked by two sweepers, as ordered. One would need to stay by the door while the other, Willie entered with him to hoist Jarod out of his nest. Last night's episode was a pleasant surprise to Raines. He had not expected the Pretender to break down so quickly. It would make his work far easier.
Jarod still lay curled up in the corner, his face tear-stained and angst-ridden. He looked to be having a bad dream; his arms and body flailed about to the waist, where all movement was prevented by paralysis. A truly humorous picture, really; certainly a pity they had work to do. It would have been better to let him stew in his misery for a day or two.
With a nod Willie crossed the room and shook Jarod briskly awake. A dark, temporarily confused look crossed his eyes as the sweeper hoisted him bodily into the waiting wheelchair. Raines entertained a brief notion that the Pretender might have been faking the whole scene, before dismissing it to speak.
"Not feeling... well?"
"Imagine waking up from a terrible nightmare to the sight of a walking corpse. That's how I feel." Jarod gave his adversary a long, hard stare. He had been having a nightmare. It was a flashback to the day of his capture. Willie had missed Mr. Parker and hit is daughter instead. He was holding Parker in his arms, trying to stop the bleeding. It was rushing, pouring out all over her clothing, his hands, the pavement... everywhere he looked there was blood. She'd be dead in a minute. Jarod had to do something, anything to save her rapidly fading heartbeat. Then Raines appeared, much like he had just now, dragging Jarod away and leaving Parker to die. The terrible feeling of absolute helplessness had only been interrupted by the sound of Willie's hand on the door. A split second decision made him pantomime a continued nightmare. Better to lead Raines to believe he was in a far more weak state than was true. It would buy him time in the future.
"Clean up... you have fifteen... minutes," the triumphant look on his face made Raines look like a pale caricature of a jack ‘o lantern retreating into night. Clearly his act was having the desired effect.
Willie attempted to push Jarod toward the bathroom, but the Pretender shook him off with a brisk tug of the wheel. He could still handle using the toilet by himself. The sweeper shrugged wordlessly and waited by the door. Jarod changed quickly, dropping his soiled clothes in a convenient corner. Since the Centre enjoyed it so much they could clean up after him. He was anxious to know how the sim went. Raines would undoubtedly find a way to twist the outcome into tightening his hold on Jarod. He had a feeling he already knew how.
****************
Jarod's ride to the simlab was quiet and uneventful. He had hoped for some glimpse of Sydney as with the day before, but given the early hour it seemed to be, the doctor was undoubtedly not yet in. Inwardly Jarod cursed Raines for taking his watch and other personal effects. He had taken for granted the comfort and that material goods could provide. That would never happen again.
The door to the lab had always seemed to Jarod something like a portal between worlds. Outside there was life, if Centre-style, people moving from place to place with a purpose in their step and a destination in mind. Inside there was only the Pretender, a sim, and taskmaster with veiled threat in hand. And all sense of continuous time was erased, replaced only with a concept of desperate, life-rending urgency. Inside it felt hollow, always unreal.
At the door Willie took charge of Jarod's wheelchair. There was no shaking him this time. In the center of the lab there was one seat, perhaps the same thing they had held him restrained in not so very long ago. The sweeper lifted him bodily out of his chair and into the very stationary chair, all the while conscious of how easy it would be to reach around Willie's back and pull the handgun that he had left carelessly unguarded. So easy and yet so entirely impossible.
The sweeper took his wheelchair and vanished through the door, leaving him to wait for Mr. Raines' arrival. They left Jarod there alone, vulnerable, in order to disconcert him. The secret lay in knowing their tricks well enough to counteract the effects, while simultaneously putting on the act of being disturbed by it all. He waged a temporary staring contest with one of the surveillance cameras before looking away in mock disgust. One of the few benefits Jarod had with the simlab was his complete familiarity with the surroundings. He had grown up here, in the sort of land that time forgot. The walking corpse would have serious trouble making any intimidation tactics truly sink in.
It was perhaps no more than five minutes before Raines wheezed in, complete with oxygen cart and neat manila folder tucked under one arm. The moment of truth. Doctor Death nearly took Jarod's head off with the file, giving him a few brief seconds to read.
"One fatality." Raines growl would have oozed gravel if it were possible.
Jarod looked up from his reading, uncaring. "I told you not to send sweepers to do a man's job," he tossed the folder
on the floor, not caring to read about the victims.
"This is not... an acceptable... outcome," the skeleton glared down at him.
"I upheld my end of the bargain. There was an incompetence clause, if you recall," Jarod stared right back.
"Next time... nothing less than... complete success," Mr. Raines stated.
"Complete neutralization..." the Pretender cringed.
"... and no... fatalities."
"I can't guarantee you something that isn't in my power!" Jarod insisted, allowing his voice to rise."
"For Parker's sake... you will." The corpse continued on into a new sim, but he only half-listened. It seemed that saving one friend might mean killing scores of others.
End of part 2.
