The Collector

Fielding walked briskly down the stark, clinical corridor behind Korse. All along the bright white walls were wanted and extermination posters for many different faces but four were repeated more than once and of those four one featured frequently. She recognised the man as Poison. Either BLI or Korse, and she suspected the latter, had an unhealthy obsession with him.

Korse was furious. She could tell just from the way he moved. Long fast strides, sharp turns around corners causing his coat to flap wildly in a self-created breeze and his fists clenched almost as tightly as his jaw.

His appearance at the cell had confirmed what she had suspected following their earlier conversation. The cell had a listening device installed and he had heard everything they had discussed. What he was specifically angry about, she wasn't certain. Poison's accusation of murder was certainly a possibility but she presumed the entire conversation may have been considered unacceptable. If so, she had to decide on her approach. One thing she was certain of, she was not going to ask any questions or say anything that might make her appear to side with Poison. That would be suicidal.

Entering Korse's office once more, he used a sweeping yet somehow abrupt gesture to indicate that she should sit.

"Exterminator Korse..." Fielding began before being quickly interrupted.
"I think you've asked too many questions already, don't you?" He asked, unpleasantly.
"Not at all," she replied flatly. "Barely enough, in fact."
"And what, might I ask, does that mean?" He growled angrily.

Fielding took a deep breath and shook her head.

“I doubt you know my areas of expertise, sir, but one of them is psychology. Perhaps that is why I was transferred to this unit? So I could use my skills to assist in breaking him, but I have many more talents than those. I realise you have interrogators and I have no doubt that they are very good at their jobs, but with my training, I can bring insights into personality, outlook and potential actions.”

As she spoke, she watched Korse’s anger slowly dissipate, only to be replaced by curiosity.

“Give me an example of your thoughts on what he told you.”
“He is misogynistic,” she lied. “He has little regard for integrity or honesty, either his own or in others. He genuinely seemed to think that if he sold me a lie, I would throw aside everything I know and trust to follow him. He's arrogant enough to think that either he's irresistible or that I’m weak-willed.”
“Can I assume from what you say that he didn’t impress you?”

Fielding snorted disdainfully and rolled her eyes.

“Of course not,” she laughed. “He might be able to fool impressionable children and impress radicals who want to bring down our system just because it doesn’t cater to their criminal needs, but his words are lost on anyone with reason.”
“I’m glad to hear it, doctor,” Korse smiled maliciously.

She had in actuality been quite surprised, even shocked, by what Poison had said. If only a small fraction of it had been true, then she was very concerned indeed. Could BLI be the evil organisation he insisted it was? She had long since accepted that the image of BLI as a shiny, considerate, well-oiled machine that looked after its staff and citizens with the help of mind-controlling drugs.

But, what if he was right? What if there was another side to it? Were the drugs really that bad? He had been right when he said that she didn’t take them and couldn't have done her job if she did.

But what kind of a job was it, anyway? Again, he was right. She wasn’t healing the sick or researching new cures. She had just given a prisoner a drug to force him to remain awake. In addition, he was being given mind-altering drugs that she knew would aid Korse in his plans. What they were doing to him was violent and they were torturing him.

It seemed reasonable to assume that everything else was true also. It was a bleak and worrying realisation for her because if it was all true, she had a choice to make. She made a very good living in BLI, she had a beautiful apartment, nice clothes, good food. She thought about Party Poison: dirty, hungry, worn clothes and suffering with illnesses she could cure in hours with the right medication. Even if he was right about everything, could she give it all up? Would it matter even if she did? She was just one person, she couldn’t change a thing, either by being there or not being there.

“I want you to increase the dose of the Varsill to sixty milligrams.”
“Sixty?” Fielding raised her eyebrows. “Just to check with you, sir, are you fully aware of the effect that will have on him?”
“Yes, I'm aware,” he leaned forward across the desk. “I told you, I want Party Poison destroyed. I want him to be just a shell with only tormenting thoughts and memories for company. I could be very clinical and remove memories in the chamber, but how much more fun it would be to simply blank entire tranches of memory and twist whatever remains? Frankly, I don’t care what’s left, as long as he is irretrievably damaged until he is nothing of his former self.”
“Sixty milligrams will work exactly as you have in mind. I will have to increase the dose slowly however,” she replied rising to her feet.
“Why?” Korse narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You said earlier that with the Hallsig, I could raise it as high as I liked.”
“No, sir, I said that in a couple of days he would be so exhausted that he would be unable to fight it.” Fielding explained.

Korse frowned deeply, remembering her words.

“What can you increase it to?”
“Ten,” she replied.
“Twenty,” Korse countered.

Fielding considered his order for a few moments, before nodding.

“It's a risk, but if you're prepared to take it, I'll give him twenty,” she nodded.
“Thank you,” he replied, waving a hand to dismiss her, but as she reached the door, he called after her. “Doctor Fielding, I should warn you that I expect absolute loyalty. You wouldn’t want to go the same way as Poison, would you?”

Fielding tried hard not to display any of the terror she felt at the words. Instead she allowed her shock to form an indignant expression.

“Exterminator Korse, I take exception to your accusation that I would side with a rebel,” she replied with a huff of anger in her tone.
“It wasn't an accusation,” Korse smiled slyly. “It was merely a warning but one you would do well to heed.”
“I will visit him in another hour to give him more,” she replied coldly, refusing to be drawn.
“Good,” Korse waved his hand toward the door again. “Dismissed.”

With the door closed behind her, she was still trying to hide her anger in case cameras were also placed outside his office. Suspecting that there would be, she merely smoothed her lab coat and headed briskly back to her own office. As she walked, she travelled down the corridor of wanted and extermination posters again. She paused at a few of them and read some of the citations. One in particular drew her attention:

Name: Party Poison
Crime: Terrorism
Affiliation: Killjoys
Status: Running
Location: Unknown
Sentence: Extermination
Distinguishing features: Red hair, yellow mask and gun
Known sympathisers:
Doctor Death Defying: Extermination, Whereabouts unknown
Show Pony: Wanted, Whereabouts unknown
Coffin Dancer: Wanted, Whereabouts unknown
Ice Diamond: DNA, Citizen, Zone 3
Candi Crush: DNA, Citizen, Zone 3
Cornelius Tucker: DNA, Citizen, Zone 2
Lawrence Buxton: O&R, Citizen, Whereabouts unknown

The remaining Killjoy posters contained very similar details, also with similarly unflattering photos. There were, however, no details on what crimes they had committed. She was intrigued.

*

Being notionally the least exhausted of all four, Ghoul had been driving for the last hour, but even he was beginning flag. It was another twenty minutes to Kami’s shop but at least they would be out of the desert in the next five. The long straight highway could be hypnotising and when already very tired, he knew that could be dangerous. In the distance, he could see a few lights from the town of Nystad and he was grateful to finally have something to focus his mind on. Within seconds, he would curse himself for wanting something to wake him up. As if he had jinxed himself, the high beam of a draculoid motorcycle filled the car and dazzled him in the rear view mirror.

“Damn it!” He cursed as a second and third beam lit up the road ahead travelling toward him at speed. “'Wake up! Dracs!” He yelled.

Instantly awake and alert, Jet, Kobra and Red readied themselves.

“What have we got?” Jet asked quickly as he slid back the sun roof so he and Kobra could stand.
“Two in front, one behind,” Ghoul replied. “I’m red lining the car, evasive driving, keep hold of something.”
“I need a gun,” Red announced.
“No,” Jet shook his head, “stay down, we’ll…”
“'Give me a goddamned gun!” She shouted. “I’m not helpless!”

Ghoul smiled and passed his gun to her, initially to Jet’s annoyance, but there simply wasn't time to discuss it. All three rose, Kobra firing behind and Jet and Red firing in front. Ghoul gunned the trans am and it hurtled forward at over a hundred miles an hour causing one of the motorcycles to veer off the road to avoid being hit. Turning as it passed, Red fired, hitting the rider in the back and watched as the motorcycle went out of control, rolling over and crushing the draculoid. On the opposite side of the car, Jet hit the rider square in the chest, the force of the blast knocking him from his position and the motorcycle slid away from under him.

“That’s weird,” Kobra frowned, as he lowered his arm.
“What’s weird?” Jet asked turning to look at him, but Ghoul glancing in the rear view mirror already knew what Kobra was concerned about.
“The other drac’s just stopped.”

As they watched, the first motorcycle turned and rode away back down Route Guano towards Battery City.

“Should I follow?” Ghoul asked, briefly turning to look at the others.
“He doesn’t know where we’re going, so there’s no need,” Jet replied, lowering himself back into the car, followed by Kobra and Red.
“I don’t like that,” Kobra voiced his concern. “That’s not normal behaviour for a drac.”
“No, it’s not,” Ghoul replied, equally perplexed. “I’ve never heard of anything like that before.”
“Could it be something to do with Party?” Red asked.
“Like what?” Kobra asked.
“I don’t know,” Red admitted. “Maybe they’re moving him somewhere and he’s gone back to warn them?”
“Except we’re going in the opposite direction,” Kobra frowned. “And before anyone says anything, yes, I accept why we are, but it does rule out the warning idea.”
“Well, I don’t know,” Ghoul shrugged, “but it’s definitely odd.”
“How far, Ghoul?” Jet asked, changing the subject.
“Oh, about ten minutes maybe?” He replied, accepting his gun back and tucking it in its holster. “We just about cut the journey in half by gunning the engines.”
“Speaking of guns…”
“Jet, I’m…”
“A grown woman who’s kept herself alive for twenty-four years. I know,” he sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s just, all these years you knew you had a brother but you thought you lost him. I didn’t even know I had a sister, then it all came flooding back when I walked into that field across the door to Ghoul’s room at the museum and…” Jet sighed and looked down again.
“And what?” Red asked quietly.
“I just wish I could have kept you safe, got you out of BLI. I didn’t even know.”
“You want to keep me safe now?”
“Yeah, but I’m… I mean, do I even have a right to?”
“Oh, Jet, you're adorable!” She grinned, reaching an arm to the back seat to take his hand.

Jet looked up as her fingers brushed his; the broad smile on her face bringing one to his. He stared expectantly, not knowing quite what to say. He had just bared his soul in front of two of his friends and was feeling somewhat awkward, especially given that at least Kobra was staring at him and Ghoul was snatching frequent glances in the mirror as he drove.

“Jet, of course you have the right,” she squeezed his hand. “But you’re really overdoing it, I have to say and, don’t be surprised if I tell you to back off, which is my right.”

Jet chuckled at the words; having looked after herself for years, Red was headstrong and independent and it shouldn't have come as a surprise to him that she was very much her own person, but it warmed his heart that she understood his feelings and concerns too.

“Deal,” he nodded, squeezing her hand in return.
“Ghoul,” Red turned back. “As we’re all awake, let's have some music, eh?”

Notes

Bit of an odd chapter this, one of those with more character building than action. Hope it's okay though. More soon.

Thanks for reading!
Sas xx