Stitched Up Hearts (HIATUS/POSSIBLY DISCONTINUED)

Chapter 9-F.E.A.R

North America, 9:00am Eastern Time

The young intern ran down the hall on toothpick-thin legs. He sucked in air then practically spat it back out again as if all the oxygen in the world wasn't enough for him. Sweat slightly dripped down his neck as he skidded to a halt in front of an elevator, pressing the Up button as hard and fast as he could.

When the doors didn't open he managed a grunt of frustration through his panting. His brown hair slightly flopped in his eyes, coming out of its very (newly) styled position as he whipped his head towards the stairway.

After weighing the pros and cons of waiting for the elevator or killing himself running up the stairs he chose the latter. After all, no one keeps Lord Nefarious waiting, even if they finally show up at his door only to drop dead from running so long.

Silently cursing his uniform under his breath, he yanked open the door and pounded up the stairs. He hoped that sometime during the Gathering he can bring up the possibility of lighter, more airy uniforms to his excellency.

A few minutes (and five stories) later, he was entering meeting room 66b. If he wasn't sweating so much before, never mind that. All he wanted to do was rip his top off and yank a window open.

Instead, he settled for taking a seat at the other end of the long table, across from His Grace.

He bowed in his seat silently, his brown hair nearly touching the smooth mahogany surface.

"Rise," Nefarious said, breaking the silence in the room. The intern obliged, raising up tall in his seat-for he was a tall skinny fellow. One wondered how the man had any muscle, much less bone.

He kept silent, waiting for Nefarious to speak, unsure whether to look him in the eye or not.

When a few minutes of silence passed, he awkwardly piped up, "S-so uh, when are the others coming?"

Nefarious shrugged-in a very commanding manner of course-and smiled, small and polite but not very friendly.

"Just us. I want that report on the effects of the EMP on Area 1; our newest one. It ah, it is ready isn't it," Nefarious replied, peering at the intern with beady dark green eyes.

"Of course sir," he replied with a dry mouth. His heart pounded, reaching into an inner pocket of his uniforms jacket and pulling out a white manilla folder.

Nefarious reached out and took it with a nod of gratitude. Instead of reading it right away however, he set it beside his hands before folding them with a crooked smile.

"Now, I have a proposition."

"And what's that?"

Nefarious only grinned a little more as he leaned forward more. The sunlight from the windows, normally warm, now appeared cold in his eyes.

"You've been so many places that mankind could never go. Did things the average Joe could never even dream of doing."

"Now-now hold on just what are you saying sir?"

"I'm saying," Nefarious responded, leaning forward, "How would you like to be my advisor. Sort of a right hand man if you will? You'd be perfect for the job."

The intern froze in disbelief, thinking for a minute before responding softly, "Awe gee Nefarious. Do you really mean that?"

"I do. I do mean what I say, Morty."

---

The last note died into the silence of the room. I stood in amazement looking at her as she lifted the bow off the violin strings.