Putz12 Plus One

THIRTY FOUR | ENDURANCE INSURANCE

White, white, white. It was all white surrounding her in the oblong structure of the prep room. The prep room was what The Order called the place where they gave 'haircuts' to willing, or in this case not-so-willing members. Iza sat on a white stool awaiting instruction. The other Ordermembers did not blink nor acknowledge her existence. They stood so upright and unmoving, she would've mistaken them for manequins if they hadn't blinked or breathed.

The sliding doors opened and a tall figure came approaching. His face was hidden and all she could see were his hands. "Kleims, I'll join your thing. I'll do what you tell me, but please don't make me do this. It's going to hurt. Really bad." She clenched the arms of her chair with her cold hands.

"Kleims?"

That voice was a lot of things, but it sure wasn't Kleims. It wasn't anyone she recognized. "Who... are you?" The figure grew closer, creating tension in her upper neck. She was done for, this was it. And if it wasn't, she'd forever become a slave of The Order, the very thing her entire sector was formed against. Death was preferable than treason.

"I'm the leader."

She paused from the shock flooding her body. "No, Kleims is the leader."

"Kleims? That blundering idiot?" He laughed, taking off his hood. There appeared a tentacle beard and wicked smile. "I'm the leader. Master Pokeness."

Though it could have meant the end of her life, she couldn't help but laugh. "I'm sorry, Pokeness? Pft!" Her giggles infectiously spread, soon the other members who framed the room laughed too.

"Stop that! It's not funny! It's my name!"

"I'm sorry, it's just I didn't expect... for you to be so terrifying and your name to be... to be that!" She snickered some more.

"Enough!!" He yelled, striking the room with a frigid air. Iza shivered in response. "I've heard of you, Thirty Three."

"Auuh, just call me Iza. Kinda over the whole numbers thing." He scowled. "Oh, right. You guys invented the whole... numbers... thing."

Out came a blade she wasn't sure could possibly fit in his pockets, but nonetheless it was in front of her, and it was just as terrifying as one would imagine. She bit her lip and backed up a bit, as if she had anywhere to go. "Please! I don't wanna feel pain! At least numb me up first!"

"Don't mind if I do. Sixty seven, hand me syringe number 004."

A standard octoling got up from the couch and with a perfect gait approached with a long needle in their hands.

"Actually, nevermind. I can do without either, I'm not big on sharp objects, I really--"

But no amount of protesting worked. He made the insertion, and soon she was so numb she couldn't feel her own face.

"I may have different beliefs than you, Thirty Three. But I'm not a monster."

Pokeness was a blur. Soon the room was spinning and she closed her eyes. She cursed herself for ruining everything. Expectations of perfection in relationships. Had nothing changed, she'd closed her eyes and seen Marcus. Had Putz not have lied, she'd have seen him. But this time, her heart was as empty as the void upon entering slumber, as absent as her trust in loving another, should another ever exist for her.

"Come on guys! You're too slow!"

"Don't blame us!" Shouted Derek as Putz swam ahead, shooting trails of ink as if it were The Great Turf War. "We're not blue like you!"

"That's it!" Putz stopped and soon everyone bumped into him. "You guys aren't my ink color, here, dip inside my ink."