CELL

/ EIGHTEEN /

Jarvis grunted and kept still.

Ryan was expecting to be dragged again, but was startled by warm breath at his ear.

"Fucking idiot," Jarvis whispered. "I was trying to help you out. Now she's got you. Probably cycle you, 'n' you deserve it. Don't kick a gift horse in the teeth, fucking idiot."

The breath was gone, and the tug of his ankle signified the dragging was resuming. Ryan was relieved the floor was so smooth, or there could have been damage done to his back. With the rate of movement, any imperfection in the surface or loose piece of grit could cut into his flesh. The floor appeared to be, somehow, spotlessly clean. There wasn't even a layer of dust to slide through.

How did they keep it so clean? He had to ask.

"Done when you sleep," Jarvis said angrily, as if the question irritated him.

"It'd wake us, surely, wouldn't it?"

"You sleep the sleep of the dead, fucking idiot. The doc makes sure. You wouldn't hear a bomb go off. Bradley makes sure."

The intercom emitted the screeching sound of feedback, which cut off abruptly. It made Ryan wince, and the ringing from it lingered in his ears.

"Stop asking 'n' I'll stop telling."

The feedback must have been a warning, he surmised. Jarvis was saying too much, and they'd made sure he knew to shut the hell up.

Good. He'd given something away.

It had to be the sleeping. Bradley makes sure they sleep like 'the dead.' Was it drugs? How would they be administered? A gas? That would get them all at once. Effective. But why? What did it matter if they all slept at different times? They couldn't go anywhere, as was made clear by his current predicament. He'd tried and failed. Now he was going to pay.

In the meantime...

Bradley was making sure they slept as one. That would be why nobody was responding to the turmoil he'd caused. It also implied something was done while they were all out for the count. He'd have to have a conversation with her to find out what. He'd also ask what cycling was. He had a feeling he didn't want to know the answer.

At the infamous door, Ryan took the opportunity to speak quickly to Jarvis.

"I'm sorry."

He almost meant it, considering what the man had said about trying to help. It couldn't hurt.

"Fucking idiot. I try to help and you say sorry. You think that makes it all good?"

Well... yes?

"Not at all. I just wanted to tell you before... whatever comes next. I didn't know you were helping me. I had to try and get out."

Jarvis sighed and closed the door he'd opened only slightly.

"OK, idiot. Don't do it again. You know why?"

"Because I'll regret it?"

"No. But yes, you will. But no, because there's no point. You're never leaving."

Jarvis sniggered and reopened the door, fully this time. Before he took Ryan through it, he brought up the foot he was going to kick him with and brought it down on his face.

Ryan awoke to somebody working at his wrists. When he opened his eyes, Jarvis and his... twin...? were locking him into handcuffs. Ryan tried to struggle, but found they'd already fastened his ankles in place. This time, he wasn't lying down. He was upright, with his back against an indentation in the wall. Around it, bolted in place, were rings and bars, points where all manner of other manacles or devices could be attached. Connected to an opposing pair was a thick band that ran across his chest.