The Good Intentions of a Cyborg Werewolf

Depth - XII

Erin emerged from her new bedroom with a slow, lumbering gait. Her body didn't want to wake up, and she didn't bother fishing her brush out of her bags to do anything with her hair. She was just too exhausted, and though this was the third time waking up in the apartment, it still felt odd to not be in her home. A home she no longer had, she realised. A whole life she no longer had. Erin toyed with the ring on her finger. It had felt uncomfortable, the stinging pain being what woke her up, and she quickly took another dose of suppressants. It seemed a pertinent yet painful reminder of her situation, but she refused to take it off, pain or not. Though as she made her way out into the erratic layout of the apartment two things dominated her mind now: coffee and food. She milled about the kitchen, shuffling her way towards the coffee maker. Mercer sat at the counter, a piece of paper in one hand, a mug in the other. He nodded.

"Sleep well?" He asked.

"I guess," Erin mumbled. She pointed to the coffee machine with a weary expression.

"Help yourself," Mercer extended his hand towards the kitchen. "You're welcome to anything here, what little we have." Erin smiled and gave a slow thumbs up as she grabbed one of the mugs hung behind the sink. The kitchen wasn't exactly dirty, just cluttered, though it was very small. The apartment in general seemed cleaner, likely the efforts of Mercer's hospitality, and she would properly articulate her appreciation were she not so drained.

"Thanks again," Erin yawned as she watched the mug fill. "What time is it?"

"Ten thirty," Mercer replied.

"Today's Saturday, right?" She asked. "I'll have to think up an excuse for work tomorrow. Sorry for sleeping in."

"Clearly you needed it," Mercer said without a hint of insincerity, "you've been through much lately." Erin nodded. She looked down at her clothes. She still wore the same blouse and skirt from yesterday, and it clung to her uncomfortably.

"I'm gonna guess you guys don't have a washer and dryer?" She asked.

"There's a coin-operated washing machine on the ground floor." Mercer took a sip from his own mug, "though the landlord prefers that tenants don't use it after dark. It's old and quite loud."

"After dark?" Erin picked up her cup. "I thought you said it was ten thirty?"

"It is," Mercer said.

"At night?" Erin held her hand to her head. "Good lord, I slept all day?"

"Like I said," Mercer placed his cup down, "you've been through a lot. I was somewhat concerned you may have had a concussion, or suffered smoke inhalation, but Lucas assured me your breathing was normal."

"He watched me sleep?" Erin asked, immediately uncomfortable at the thought.

"Oh no!" Mercer held up his hands. "No, he can just hear it. He was quite confident you were alright, so I decided to let you rest." That certainly seemed better to her. Luke's heightened senses were at times a bit invasive, but then she could hardly control what she heard. Someone with his level of sensitivity must have a lot that he had to process.

"Where is shaggy, anyway?" Erin pointed with her mug to the empty couch.

"Following our lead," Mercer said, "I'm awaiting his contact, actually. I was able to narrow down the list of possible suppliers of the compound. He's in between suspects now." Erin approached the countertop where the paper was. It was a list of companies, manufacturers specifically, and her gaze went down the list.

"It's this one," Erin pointed to the third entry on the list. Mercer raised an eyebrow.

"Why are you so sure?" He asked. "This company isn't owned by Celestial Biotics, nor do they have any contracts with them."