The Dreamer

7 : Winter : The Witch

WINTER ANDERS

He didn't want to see the witch, but she never answered his phone calls or returned any of his voicemails. Perhaps she wanted him to visit her after two months of avoiding crossing paths. Some who were bold enough to say, would claim Winter had some of her personality. But he'd say otherwise.

He walked through the glass doors of her office quarters where people who thought themselves important waited in the lobby to see her. Her administrator, some brunette who chewed gum as if it were her life source, shot onto her feet.

"Um, Mr. Anders," she called out, but he bluntly ignored her.

Maybe I am just like her...

He barged into the frosted glass door of her office and entered a futuristic upgrade to the White House oval office with a poisoned touch from an authoritative, techno enthusiastic, dictator.

A man dressed in a fine suit turned to look at him approach. His mother, the witch herself, glared at him with eyes that could cut steel.

"Winter. I am in a-,"

"I don't give a damn," he stated and snapped his fingers at the man to leave. To his dismay, he glanced at his mother first and only obeyed when she nodded.

Winter sighed irritably and conquered the space directly in front of her wide desk. She stood. "Anders. What do you want?"

"You know exactly why I am here," he said dangerously smooth. "If you thought I was incapable of handling my own lab and experiments, you could've been mature enough to say it in my face."

Her eyes narrowed, upper lip quivering with anger. "By the way you stormed in here, interrupting an important meeting, I wouldn't claim you any more mature."

He straightened his back and inhaled sharply to keep from jumping over the desk to strangle here.

"You gave him my work. Why? What is the meaning of this?"

"I have another task for you."

"I don't want it."

"You have no choice in the matter," she said. "Scientists who actually get things done, spend 70 percent of their time in a lab, another ten doing whatever the fuck they want like dealing with immature children, and the last 20 conducting field work."

"Field work? Is that what's this all about? Getting me out to see how fucked up the world already is?"

"You need new perspective," she said like a professional dictator.

"I can get new perspective whenever the fuck I want. I don't need you to order me around like I'm some damn child."

She gave a deep throated sarcastic laugh. "Fine then. See this as a boss who's funding your work and providing fresh Feeders and subjects for you to only kill, ordering you to use your field work hours."

"Fuck you."

"I'm not going to stand here arguing about obligations to you. I've sent emails reminding you of this shit, seeking to meet. And now a very important mission has hit my desk, one that could possibly help you in your research on finding a cure, and here I thought my ungrateful son would like to begin etching his name into the history of our country's future. But the person that stormed into my office was no man, but a child wanting to pull a tantrum because I took away his favorite toy. Grow the fuck up."

He cocked his head to the side, glaring at the woman to make sure he had not lost his mind. She thought of him first for an important mission instead of Brandon? Oh, how much he hated this woman and her mind-games.