Mr. Good Bad Guy

29 - Rejected...Again

The room was dark and musty, the air stale with the scent of desperation and fear. A single dim light flickered from a lone bulb, casting eerie shadows across the floorboards. The walls were adorned with crude paintings of twisted figures and ancient symbols. In the center of the room, a massive oak table dominated the space, surrounded by a circle of worn leather chairs. The hooded figure stood silently in front of the table, their shadow looming large against the far wall.

I began to think that these people were just weird. Everything here was like it had been ripped straight out of a cheesy horror movie. I stared at the person in front of me, their voice still echoing in my ears. "Where's McCarthy?" I asked. "Did you lie to me to get me here?"

"Could you just...shut up?"

The voice was cold, distant. It didn't belong to the person in front of me. It seemed to emanate from everywhere at once, filling the room like a chill mist. The figure itself remained still, the hood casting their features into darkness. I felt a shiver run down my spine.

"God, you ask too many damn questions," the voice said, the words seeming to come from everywhere. "Just listen to me and do as I say. You're in no position to make demands."

The person in front of me walked closer, their voice growing louder as they spoke. "You're here, because you're useful. You have information that we need. But you're also a liability. People like you are always a liability. Tough."

I felt a hand grasp my arm, squeezing tightly. "So, here's what we're going to do. We're going to keep you here. You'll work for us, do what we say. In return, we won't kill you. Do you understand?"

I nodded, my heart racing. "What about McCarthy? Did you lie to me?"

The man pulled back, the hood falling back to reveal a face twisted into a sneer. "Forget about McCarthy," he said, his voice cold and harsh. "He wants nothing to do with you. And you don't have any room to be making any demands. You're nosey. Your bosses are nosey. We're here to stop you."

"So...you're admitting we're close to figuring out who's behind everything?" I said it more to myself than them. "Good to know..."

"Yeah, for you. Not for anyone else. Sign this."

The man thrust a piece of paper into my hands, the pen they were holding out glinting menacingly in the dim light. It was a contract, or at least that's what it looked like. I skimmed through the words, feeling a chill run down my spine. They wanted me to sign away my right to investigate the case. That's when I knew we'd been more than close. The case was going to be over once Mr. Rousseau was arrested.

Wasn't it?

I looked up from the contract, meeting the man's unyielding gaze. Something about him, about the way he spoke, made my gut twist. It was like there was a weight pressing down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. I knew that if I signed that paper, it would be the end of everything. It would mean giving up not only my job, but my freedom, my life...maybe even my sanity.

"I'm not signing this," I said. "I won't let anyone get away with this."

He leaned in closer, his eyes boring into mine. "It's not about getting away with anything, Doctor. This isn't about right and wrong. This is about survival. You sign a contract, just like anyone else would. You can either help us, or you can die trying to take us down. And trust me, it won't be a quick or painless death."

His words echoed in my head, the weight of his threat pressing down on my chest. I felt my heart racing, my breath coming in short gasps. I knew that he was right. It wasn't about right and wrong anymore. It was about survival, but I couldn't just let them walk away with everything. Not if it meant that more innocent people would suffer.