The beard makes it hard to see the small expressions Ken’s jaw makes. Is it clenched? Does he hate her as much as I do? Or is he a happy puppet willing to do her bidding in return for some unknown favor?
“Do not let your personal circumstances distract you on this mission. It is important.”
Empty words, said for no reason. She has a snake-like stare, I realize. It glitters and it goes deep and it tries to work its way to the very core of me before spreading like venom through my veins. I can’t look at her without feeling the kind of hatred which kills. I just don’t know if it will kill her, or me.
“Tell me where Tom is.”
Again, she ignores me. I used to think it was normal to be ignored when I spoke, but Tom has taught me that it is not polite to fail to respond to people when they talk to you, and that the Head’s behavior is impolite, as well as evil.
“Don’t you care that your brother is gone?”
“Easy now,” Ken says, lifting a hand, as if the gesture might calm me, or make up for the fact that I am missing the love of my life. Or that he is missing his brother. If he is missing his brother.
“Easy? Easy!? How can you be standing there telling me to be EASY!?”
Ken gives me a harsh look. He’s a lot like his brother, but harder. Meaner. More likely to get his neck broken if he doesn’t turn out to be on my side.
“We’re going to focus on the mission at hand. You’re going to do as you’re damn well told.”
“Your brother is missing. Don’t you care?”
“I care about getting this mission off the ground. It’s time to get you geared up. The clock is running.”
The Head looks on with approval as Ken snaps at me, then strides over to a roller door and throws it up in one easy motion. Behind it, the gear for this mission has all been laid out. I still can’t move, so I don’t know what he expects me to do.
From what I can see at a distance, they have a full set of equipment waiting for me. No weapons, but plenty of other equipment which could easily be used as a weapon. There’s a fucking grappling hook, not to mention a utility knife, a flare. With just those three pieces of equipment, I could kill everyone in this room.
“Electra,” the Head says, getting my attention with her ice voice. “If you behave badly in any way, hurt anyone, disobey a single order, Doctor Ares will suffer the consequences.”
I stare at her blankly.
“Why?”
She stares back. “It is a means of moderating your behavior without having to have you contained at all time. It has become apparent that you care about Doctor Ares. Therefore, the consequences of any insubordination will be borne by him. Not you.”
“Well, that’s stupid.” I look over at Ken. “Are you hearing this? Your brother is being held hostage by this bitch.”
Ken nails me with a glare. “Watch your mouth.”
I am absolutely not going to watch my mouth. I let out a stream of expletives designed to prove that very point. I will not be kept this way, a pawn in the Head’s game of chess, which is another boring thing normal people know about, but hardly ever actually engage in.
The Head is blackmailing me. I suspect she planned this all along. She never wanted me to become civilized. She wanted me to become attached to something she could manipulate. Like a teddy bear she can threaten to burn, except it is a man.
“We will see how stupid it is,” she smiles infuriatingly. “Perform well on this mission, Electra. Your lover’s life depends on it.”
“Bitch,” I hiss under my breath as she walks away.
She leaves and my ability to move returns, too late to rip her spine out through her asshole.
“Calm down, focus on the mission,” Ken says.
“How can you say that? You heard her! She’s holding your brother hostage. If I do something crazy, she’s probably going to kill him. And I always do something crazy.”
“Not this time, you don’t,” he says firmly. “This time, you follow orders. We get in, we get the job done, and we get out again.”
“You shouldn’t be working for her,” I say. “She’s crazy. He’s your family, which, he taught me, means a lot. Don’t your biological bonds to him mean anything? Shouldn’t you be even angrier than I am right now?”
He looks at me and I can’t read his expression at all. If he is like Tom, then he will not accept this. But there’s no guarantee he is like Tom. I don’t think there are many people like Tom in the whole wide world.
“We have a job to do,” he repeats, his tone gruff, but perhaps a little softer.