AQUASTAR CLEANING SERVICES – HIGH SECURITY WING

THREE WEEKS LATER

Sydney leaned against the wall of the simlab, watching his protégé working away with Broots. It has been a long three weeks of constant struggles keeping Jarod on track and focused, but the group were making progress.

The direct goals of Jarod's work were two-fold, one was to predict and thwart off any future threat from Corporation Zero, and the second was to devise a rescue plan for the three valuable subjects being held by the rival organization. They were receiving satellite support from Europe and New Zealand, but simply put, Jarod was the best, and the Blue Cove outfit were in charge of coordinating the efforts..

Sydney had fought quite hard with both Parker and Lyle, as well as Jarod for that matter to ensure the pretender got adequate rest in the few two weeks to fully recover from his allergic reaction, and ensuing illness. He had restricted the pretender to 10 hours of work a day, and had forbidden any work material in the pretenders room after he was returned from the simlab. It had taken almost two weeks, along with a strong round of antibiotics to help Jarod fight off the secondary infections, but the pretender had slowly regained his strength. He still carried a deep cough, but other then that, Sydney had given him a clean bill of health.

Jarod’s schedule had fallen into a rigid routine. Parker and Lyle forbad Jarod to step a foot out of his cell if they were not present, not trusting that Jarod wasn’t constantly looking for that perfect moment to run. Aquastar lacked the deep bowel like structure of the Center, and hence Jarod only had to make it a few floors up to make it to the outside. Sydney supposed it was a justifiable paranoia, especially given how much it seemed the entire fate of the Triumvirate rested on Jarod's shoulders.

Parker usually made it to the simlab for seven in the morning, and stayed with Jarod until late afternoon, when Lyle would take over. Parker insisted that Sydney be present whenever she was, and although the shrink tried desperately, he simply could not stay with his protégé at all hours when Lyle was present – his aging body pushed to exhaustion. Sydney's guilt was further amplified when he would spot new bruises on the pretender in the morning.

Sydney was somewhat in awe at the change in his prodigy since his absence from the Center. As many of the long-term center residents, Jarod had previously carried a very submissive and obedient demeanor.

The pretender now held an air of confidence and self-assurance that Sydney had never seen in him before. Instead of sitting back and relying on Sydney to direct the flow of activity in the sim-lab, Jarod confidently had taken the helm, and easily barked directions at those assigned to help him – usually Broots.

Sydney sometimes felt himself wondering if his presence was even necessary – if not only to act as Jarod's protector or mediator. Jarod was often provoking the sweepers, especially since they were under strict orders by Miss Parker to keep the physical abuse to a minimum – and he knew it.

Sydney had often found himself chuckling when Miss Parker and Jarod squared off in the simlab, and if he didn't know better, which at times he did, he would swear that the two of them enjoyed bickering.

The two were squaring off again today, this time over a tired argument of Jarod's computer access. However the shrink was becoming concerned, noticing an unsatisfiable restlessness seemed to be with the pretender today.

Jarod had been moody and fidgety all morning, and unfortunately poor Mr. Broots had been the main victim of the pretender’s barbs, not that it lit a candle to the day to day verbal assault that Parker had subjected the poor tech too over the past years.

Jarod was only allowed a stand alone laptop, to which to keep track of his own documents and calculations. Any internet searching was done with the frustrated pretender barking order at poor Broots, who could never quite seem to keep up with Jarod's requests for information.

By Parker's orders, no paper clips, pens or similar items were allowed in the lab, anything that Jarod could use to stage an escape. The entire work group was restricted to using school like HB pencils, which were too weak to spring Houdini-like pretenders.

Jarod had been pacing like a caged animal for the last half and hour behind Broots’ workstation, barking requests to the poor tech, while making his unhappiness over the current situation quite clear with Parker. Everyone's patience in the room was starting to wear thin – and Sydney could tell that Parker was quickly losing patience.

Dr. Klaus had given some troubling updates with his new files he had delivered to the lab this morning. Apparently the inside sources to Corporation Zero were indicating that they were nearly done 'collecting' information from the missing center subjects and were preparing to launch another attack, either to further weaken the European branches, or attempt to take out the Center. This information had seemed to add fire to the already fidgety pretender.

"This is ridiculous Parker. What do you think I am going to do, email myself an escape plan?"

"Broots is more than capable, we will not have this discussion again Jarod."

Jarod sighed. "It's inefficient Parker. If you would just let me perform my own searches -."

"Jarod, you heard me. Now get back to work." Parker practically snarled, snapping her fingers in the direction of the pretender’s workstation.

In frustration, Jarod knocked his stack of paperwork off the desk where the computer terminals sat, making poor Broots jump a few feet out of his seat, not used to such an outburst from the usually calm-mannered pretender.

Sydney moved over and interrupted Jarod’s pacing, placing a calming palm on the pretender’s chest. He needed to calm this down before Jarod or Miss Parker, or both did something they would both regret. “Calm down Jarod, calm down.”

Jarod looked forlornly at Sydney before turning back to Parker with his arms crossed. “A simple please might work better, Miss Parker.”

"Jarod, I am warning you, get back to work." Parker threatened.

"What Miss Parker? What exactly are you going to do? Are you going to lock me in a room, keep me from seeing the sun? Make me eat the same green mush three times a day?” Jarod growled, conscious of the two sweepers that have moved in behind him.

Jarod knew he was being unreasonable, but his captivity was getting to him, and he had no outlet with which to vent his frustration. The information he had uncovered last night was frightening, and only adding urgency to his need to finish this, to get away from the Centre.

"Give it up Jarod." Parker retorted. "Have you forgotten where you came from? The Center created you. It's about high time you got off your 'oh woe is me' attitude and accepted your place in life, labrat. We are all captive in this building. Suck it up and deal with it."

Jarod intensified his glare at Parker. He had to fight the urge to walk over to her, knowing the sweepers behind him would pounce on him before he made it two steps in her direction. This turn in their arguments were not uncommon, as much as Jarod used Catherine Parker as the mechanism to infuriate Parker, she used his low rating in the corporate totem pole as a way to infuriate him.

Jarod knew he had to get himself back under control, before he did something he really would regret. He settled on ignoring Miss Parker, and resumed his pacing behind the tech.

"Sam– take Jarod over to the table." Parker commanded. There wasn't enough nicotine in the world that could make her tolerate watching Jarod continue his schizophrenic pacing for one moment longer.

Jarod shot his head up at this. "Parker - " he warned.

"You're in no position to be making threats labrat. Everyone in this room is tired of your theatrics this morning. Now be a good boy and get some work done – IN SILENCE."

Jarod shook his head in frustration. He couldn't stomach the thought of spending the rest of his morning tethered like an animal to his workstation. After three weeks of constant supervision, he just wanted to be left alone, he needed some space.

The room sat silent as Sam approached the crazed the pretender. The second he reached out to grab Jarod's arm, the pretender seemed to snap, whipping around and sucker punching the sweeper right in the gut.

Jarod cursed himself at his loss of control – he had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, there was only one way this was going to end, and it didn't spell good news for him. He couldn't help it, hitting Sam was so damn satisfying, the only outlet for the past three weeks of repressed anger. Parker quickly got on the lab phone and called for the brute squad to come in and subdue him.

Past the point of no return, Jarod refused to submit as the 8 angry sweepers burst into the sim lab. He got a few satisfying kicks and punches in until he was overpowered and knocked to the ground, and quickly restrained, his hands handcuffed painfully behind his back.

Parker approached him as he was roughly hauled to his feet.

"Jarod needs a time-out." Parker mocked, her eyes piercing Jarod's, until he let his gaze fall to the floor, admittedly ashamed at his lack of control. "Take him to one of the interrogation rooms."

Jarod remained silent and limp as he was dragged down the hall, and pushed into the elevator, ending up one floor below. He knew this floor well, as it was where Lyle's fun and games took place.

He was pushed into a small, barren cell, no more than 4x6', landing on his knees with a grunt, and quickly left alone.

With his arms still pinned tightly behind his back, and the hopeless rage still flowing through his veins, Jarod had to suppress a moan of frustration. Instead he lay down, turning his back to the security camera above the door, and let the tears of frustrations build-up.

At least here he was alone.

He did have cause for hope – he had found a paperclip in one of the files delivered to the lab this morning. It was carefully stashed in the small of his back, carefully protected by the waistband of his pants. It wasn't much, but all he needed was an opportunity, and he would run.