The Lapse in Our Politics

Part 7: Friends (and everyone else)

"Knock, knock?" He strode his way over to her, his almost white lab-coat dragging quietly.

Scarlet couldn't help but dig her arms into the the leather cuffs, not even twitching as her leather-bond wrists politely felt the tension. She would have writhed if not for the decency in her heart that told her to remain calm. Silently, she forced an eye to gaze up at the man who kept her there. While Angel had been taken by an OoxpokloskiI, Scarlet had frantically (foolishly) chased after her. Now she had felt responsible—sheepishly wondering why she couldn't keep a single person safe.

So, Scarlet had tracked, and run away from the original mission, convinced finally that her meaning of being alive was to rescue and bring back the poor, quiet girl. However, instead, she had in turn been captured herself by a man she was now 70% certain was an invader. And surely now he'd have her heart, as he'd place a knife into it.

She watched him with a mistrusting eye. A growl transformed her silent throat.

"Well, aren't you niedlich," he purred, drawn closer to her. He giddily observed her as she continued to struggle in her restraints. The room darkened.

"Who are you?" Scarlet asked. The stranger smiled wider.

His German accent made the words menacing, "I am Doctor Ech. And you had no ID on you! What is your name?"

Scarlet couldn't help but pray this man wasn't planning on experimenting on her.

"Classified," she said, and watched him through narrowed eyes. What was his problem?

He happily ignored her as he continued on, "You were running and got hurt. It's a real fuckin' pity dear, I must say. Hast du Angst?"

"Nein," she lied. Of course she was scared, but if there was one thing good she was taught, it was: never admit weaknesses to the enemy.

He laughed in excited surprise. His paces grew quicker, slightly more agitated. Left, right, up the line alongside where the lady was forced to remain captured. The things he could do and would do were just swirling in his head—a feeling that twisted his thoughts in an only speedening fashion.

"What are you going to do to me?" she groaned in frustration. Her wrist were no longer sore—she couldn't feel the slightest twitch from those muscles. It was the tearing, the ripping, driving her to wind her ideas of escape up and to immediately realize their error and frantically shut her mind back down. Chaotic, momentarious... a bitter taste of a trapped situation led her to eventually believe perhaps that just was it. The end. Final. This was it.

"I'm not sure, yet..." Doctor Ech cut himself off, grimacing at the exasperation of the moment. It was a knocking situation. Someone (him.) was at the door, and the doctor could merely despair at the tragedy. Leaned on the support of a desk, Doctor Ech swayed while Scarlet watched the change with nervous interest.

"Not now Malcon. Just when I was just beginning my fun!" He bent lower to the stabilization beneath his hands. His hands clenched tighter as the pains throughout his mind grew more and more frequent. Scarlet just managed to glare through her film of rage to understand something was terribly off with the entire situation.

"What's your problem?" she demanded.

"Him!" he despaired in giddy return. "He thinks that he's the better one of us two, but... fuck!" Doctor Ech jolted, "I'll tell you—he's not! He is nothing but an uptight person who has unlimited feelings of carelessness. He doesn't know his own job!"

"Who?"

"Him, I said! Can't you hear me? Y-Your leg wound isn't infecting your mind is it?" He limped towards her, dragging his feet without acting like he knew he was.