The gate rumbled open as he approached it and closed again behind him. He raised a hand to the security camera mounted over it and headed back down the road to the train station. When he reached it he sat down on a bench in the waiting area and dug his wallet out of his back pocket, opening it up to find the scrap of paper Elle had given him. For a long time he just read the address over and over again, until it was burned into his memory. Then he put it back in his wallet and got up to buy another train ticket.
He dozed again on the train but not well; he woke half a dozen times, breathing hard with his heart pounding in his chest and fragments of bad dreams still clinging to him. Once he woke himself up shouting, and the woman sitting beside him hurriedly ushered her young son down to a seat further away. He tried to offer a reassuring smile but it seemed to die before it ever made it to his lips.
His stop came up quickly and he dragged himself off the train, peripherally aware that someone was staring at him as he made his way through the crowds. He glanced over and saw a young woman watching him and frowning slightly, her eyebrows drawn in towards her nose. He gave her a pointed look and she dropped her eyes, but as he headed for the exit, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise again with the sensation of being watched.
Originally he had been planning to walk most of the way but instead he hailed a cab and let it take him to the address Elle had given him. The cab let him out in front of a long, low building lined with windows; a sign out on the front lawn proclaimed it to be the property of Edgeman Research Group. He studied the sign and the building, trying to ignore the implications of his daughter having been brought here, then made his way around the outside of the property to inspect the security. There were a number of both security cameras and security guards in their little booths; and he had an idea the guards were armed with something more than just pepper spray.
He kept his head down so the cameras wouldn’t catch his face and kept his pace meandering, as though he were just going for an evening walk. His appearance was likely enough to make anyone suspicious but he couldn’t do anything about that now; he could just try to find a way in without being seen.
The guards changed just as he was getting ready to leave; new guards came in and the old left. In the confusion he saw an opening and took it without thinking, ducking in through a temporarily unguarded door at the back of the building. The hallway he found himself in was empty but he knew it likely wouldn’t be for very long. Loosening his gun in its holster, he went into the nearest unlocked room.
He found himself in a lab, spotless, silver, and white under the fluorescent lights. Long tables in neat rows lined the room, brooded over by stainless steel equipment that made Jones feel twitchy. He made his way carefully along the nearest row, trying to avoid staring at the needles bristling out of one of the machines. At the back of the room he found a series of filing cabinets; it was the work of only a few moments to pick the locks on them and go through the files. He was concentrating so hard on finding any crap of information on his daughter that he paged right past his own name at first, until his hands stuttered to a stop three files on.
He flipped back until he found the folder with his full name neatly printed across the tab and pulled it out of the cabinet. The first few pages contained all his personal information; full name, date of birth, all his ID numbers, even what schools he had attended. After that came pages of notes and observations on his behaviour and reactions during his time in the military; a time that he could barely even remember now.
He had joined when he was 16, getting a friend to forge documents that said he was older; his parents hadn’t cared and likely were glad to get rid of him so there was one less mouth to feed. Once had had finished basic he’d been sent to the latest hotspot and once there he had signed up for a new program that was advertised as a way to improve his fighting skills and make him a better soldier. He’d been obsessed with making himself stronger then; power had been all he could think of.
From what he could remember, the program had involved lots of training exercises that weren’t that much different from what he had been doing anyway and drinking protein shakes. He’d become bored with it about halfway through the program, but by then he’d also become disillusioned with the military life as a whole. A month before the program ended, he had been dishonourably discharged for constant insubordination and just barely avoided being brought up in front of a tribunal. He’d found work as a mercenary, met Allie, and kept only his dogtags as a reminder of his brief stint in the military.
The file folder marked with his name contained only a little information on the program itself, and nothing that he hadn’t already known. He flipped to the last page and skimmed over the conclusion, which said that the program had been a failure and he wasn’t to be considered for further treatment. At the very bottom a different hand had scrawled a note about his marriage to Allie and the birth of their daughter Emily, along with an all-caps directive to keep an eye on the child.
Voices outside snapped his attention back to the lab around him and he hurriedly shoved the file folder back into the cabinet. He slid the drawer closed and looked for a place to hide as the owners of the voices approached the door. Spotting a door across the room, he lunged for it and went through just as the other door opened and a pair of women in white lab coats came in.
He watched them for a few moments then carefully stepped away and turned to see where he was now. The room seemed to be some sort of staff area; there was a table and chairs in the middle of the floor, a couch along one wall, and a fridge beside the kitchen sink and cabinets at the end of the room. He quickly checked the other doorway out of the room but found it only led to a small and cramped bathroom. He backed out and looked around for either another exit or a place he could hide until the women left the lab.
There was silence in the lab now and he risked another peek, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw it was empty. Keeping one hand on the gun at his hip he stepped back out into the lab and crossed quickly to the main door, looking up and down the hallway until he was sure that too was empty. He left the lab and started down the hall, keeping his back against the wall.
He heard noise behind him just an instant too late and was still in the act of turning when something hard caught him upside the head. He found himself sprawled on his belly on the floor, his head ringing and his gun a few inches from his hand; vaguely he realized he must have drawn it even as he was struck. He tried to snatch it up again but another blow knocked him back down and sent him spinning into darkness.
He woke slowly, swimming back to consciousness through the murky waters of pain. The bright light hurt his eyes when he finally opened them and he tried to cover his face with his hands, only to find they were held up above his head. Squinting in the light, he looked up and found he had been chained to a hook in the ceiling; it was just long enough to allow him to stand on his tiptoes—his boots had been taken from him, along with his shirt, belt, holster and gun, and pack—and his muscles already ached with the strain of the uncomfortable position. His head pounded with each beat of his heart and he was so thirsty his tongue felt thick and fuzzy inside his mouth.
He strained to try and free himself but he could get no leverage without his feet flat on the floor; and he barely had the strength to make more than a few rudimentary efforts. Panting, he subsided and let some of his weight hang off his arms, gritting his teeth against the pain of the chains digging into his wrists.
“This look is good for you, Jonesy.”
Jones snapped his head towards the voice, groaning when he saw Elle lounging against the wall, her tail twitching back and forth like a cat’s. “Of course you’re behind this.”
“Actually, I’m not, I just can’t resist seeing you in chains.” She pushed herself off the wall and sauntered over to him, tracing a hand down his chest. “Of course, I could help you out.”
“In return for what?”
“Where’s Drae?”
“Fuck off.”
“I don’t want him, you idiot, at least not right now. I’m just wondering where he is while you’re here trussed up like a slaughtered pig.”
“I left him somewhere safe.”
“Key words being ‘I left him’.” Elle walked around him, giving the waistband of his jeans a yank. “You’ve lost Drae anyway. I just want my worlds back.”
“I don’t have it.”
“Them, Jonesy. I’m missing five. Since the only people who have had access to them are me and you, guess where they went.”
He grinned despite himself. “One’s probably down in the sewers somewhere.”
“You’re an asshole, Jonesy. People actually live on those. Where are the rest?” She slid her hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Not in here. Not in any of your other stuff either. Tell me and I’ll let you go.”
“Was Emily really here?”
“Yes. Found your file, did you?”
“Why? What did they give me and why do they want Emily?”
“You’re not dumb, figure it out.” She looped her arms around his waist and leaned on him, making him wince with the added strain on his shoulders. “Where are my worlds, Jones?”
“I don’t know. I only found one and I flushed it.”
She stared at him for a long moment then suddenly drew back and slapped him across the face so hard he saw stars. When his vision cleared he found himself on his knees out in the grass behind the research building, with his stuff dumped at his side. Elle stood in front of him, her hands planted on her hips and her tail lashing.
“I like you on your knees almost as much as I like you chained,” she said, but there was no humour in it, as though she were saying it just out of habit. “Once a failure, always a failure, right Jonesy? You’ve lost Allie, you’ve lost Emily, and now you’ve lost Drae.”
“I haven’t lost him anywhere. He’s just out of your reach.”
She grinned and leaned in close, her breath tickling his ear as she whispered, “Wanna bet?”
He blinked and she was gone, leaving him alone in the damp grass and darkness. For an instant he stayed on his knees, feeling the dampness soak into his jeans, then he shoved himself up, snatched his things from the ground, and ran.
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