Author: Bulgroz the Third
Title: The Adjusters #25 - Doctor Cargyle
Keywords: MF, mc
Posted: February 1, 2012
Edited: February 1, 2012




			  The Adjusters #25


			    Doctor Cargyle



Daniel sat in silence and watched a still shaky Jackson down his
fourth beer and wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. The boy
looked last, unable to focus on anything. Daniel stole a glance at
Cindy, who was sitting next to him, quiet and unfazed and looking at
Jackson with a mixture of pity and resolve in her eyes. What is going
on in that head of hers, he wondered, not for the first time.

"How could she?" mumbled Jackson, lifting a hand to get the attention
of their waitress. Around them, the buzz of the Saturday night crowd
could still be felt, even though they were not in the most popular bar
of the area.

"I think you know full well how she could," answered Daniel, his eyes
boring into Jackson's.

"I don't know what--"

Daniel sighed. "Jackson, cut the act. Cindy told me everything. And
between that and what Rad and I figured out, the picture's pretty
clear--your frat snatched girls and did something to them so that you
could use them without the girls remembering a thing afterwards. Cindy
here was such a--well, a sex slave, frankly. Kyra is one. And Biff
made Jenn into one. "

Jackson was looking at him with surprise and not a small amount of
guilt. He said nothing while the waitress dropped a fifth bottle of
beer on the table, eyeing Daniel and Cindy to see if they wanted
something themselves and leaving with a shrug when they shook their
heads.

"It sounds... pretty bad when you put it that way," finally mumbled
Jackson.

"No shit," replied Daniel.

After a quick glance at Cindy, Jackson seemed to lose the little bit
of countenance he had left. His shoulders dropped. "Fine. Yeah, you're
right, of course. And yeah, I guess it was pretty bad. It is pretty
bad. But it wasn't what I signed up for when I pledged the frat."

"But you didn't complain when you found out, did you?" Daniel's stare
was hard.

The criticism drew a rise out of Jackson. "No, I didn't
complain. Fuck, man, who would? All these girls available, and they
don't argue about it, hell, they even put moves on you. What was I
supposed to do, start screaming that it's not right?"

"Yes, pretty much. Not that difficult."

"Harder than you think. At least for me." He stared in the distance.

"So Kyra..." started Daniel after a long pause.

Jackson closed his eyes. "Yes, Kyra is one of... one of them. Since
sometimes last year, before I was in on what was going on."

"So back in February, that party there, when Kyra came to me
and... You sent her, didn't you?"

"Yeah... I was sorta drunk, and you were hurting because... Well, it
was stupid." He glanced at Cindy. "But hey, she enjoyed it too. I
mean, she's got this thing where she likes being told what to do."

But Daniel had something else he needed to confirm. "So you knew about
Jenn?"

Jackson stammered and grabbed his beer, squeezing it tight. He avoided
Daniel's eyes. To his credit, he did look ashamed of himself.

"And now Biff's got his hands on both of them."

Jackson growled. "That fuckin' bastard!"

"Oh please! Other guys from the frat must have used her. Biff's just
doing to her what you've done to her. You can just get her back the
way that Biff got her. That's what you do, no? Pass her around like a
bong at a Dead concert?"

Jackson reacted like Daniel had slapped him in the face, eyes blazing,
hand tightening on his beer.

Daniel tensed up, anticipating Jackson pushing back his chair and
attacking him. He was ready, and almost happy to have an outlet for
his own fiery outrage. But the Jackson quickly slumped back down.

"I guess it looks that way, don't it? But it's not like that. I
really, really like her. And she likes me. I know that. Without
the... without the programming, or anything, she really likes me. I
didn't force her. I mean, I can't deny it, I did use her. But I like
her. And I don't want to see her hurt. And Biff might do that." He
threw a glance at Cindy. Daniel looked at her askance.

Cindy, who had remained silent until now, spoke up, her voice
soft. "Biff can be... difficult. He didn't used to be mean. Just loved
to play mind games and stuff. But he's... different now. Ever since he
got his hands on Jenn. I don't know..."

Jackson grunted, but did not comment. He drank.

"Jackson," said Daniel, "we gotta do something. We're in this together
right. Biff got Jenn and Kyra. And we have to get them back. Can you
think of anything that would help? Anything you've heard? How does it
work anyways?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. I'm pretty low on the totem pole at
the frat. I'm the new guy, and they don't tell me things. All I know
is that there was this doctor guy that took care of programming the
girls--"

"Cargyle?"

Jackson looked at Daniel oddly. "I never heard his name. Never saw him
either. Bernie just called him the doctor. There's a sort of lab in
the basement at the frat that he used, but no one really can go in."

"Past tense? So what Cindy heard is true? What happened to him?"

"Don't know. Don't even know that anything happened to him. But the
story going around is that he's gone underground, and hasn't been at
the house since Christmas. And some of the guys are grumbling that
there hasn't been any new girls since then."

"You said something about Bernie. I remember Biff saying something
about Bernie. What about him? Can he help?"

"Bernie seems to have disappeared I haven't seen him since... Well,
since Biff went on his trip two months ago. Nothing. His room at the
house has been cleared. Fact is, I thought he had gone with Biff, but
I'm not sure. He hasn't been back."

"So who can help us?"

"I don't know."

Daniel looked down at the table. "So we have to find the doctor after
all..." he said, more to himself than anyone else. He looked back to
Jackson. "Do you know if what they did to the girls is reversible?"

"No clue. No one ever said anything about that." He looked at Cindy
again. Daniel looked at her as well. He thought he knew what Jackson
meant. So Jackson knew about Cindy's condition. Cindy nodded. Jackson
finished his thought. "Cindy here is the only girl I know that has
managed to overcome the... programming."

"How did you do it?" asked Daniel.

"I didn't," replied Cindy. "As I said, it just stopped affecting me. I
didn't do anything to prompt that reaction."

"And it doesn't work at all anymore?"

"Well, we could always try." She looked at Jackson. "Go on. Fire me
up." There was a slight tremor in her voice, and Daniel could see a
flash of desire in her eyes.

Jackson was hesitant. "Cindy, I don't know if--"

"Come on. Fire me up."

Jackson looked at her for a beat, turned his head to look at Daniel
who did not say anything, then turned back to Cindy. He sighed. "What
the fuck. Fine." He lifted his left hand so that it was on the table,
the fraternity ring on his finger prominently displayed. After a
pause, and after looking around to see if anyone was listening, he
intoned, "Cindy, I am your DIK brother."

Cindy shivered, and her eyes flashed to the ring on Jackson's
finger. After closing her eyes and sighing, she relaxed, then shook
her head. "No. Nothing. I mean," she said, opening her eyes, "there
was a rather pleasant buzz there at the beginning, but it faded
quickly. Like it's been doing for a while now. And I don't feel
compelled to listen to you, Jackson. Although I do feel somewhat
horny." She grinned to Daniel, who rolled his eyes.

He had missed nothing of the exchange. He had seen Jackson move his
hand, and seen Cindy look at the ring after he had said what he might
refer to as the magic words. He thought about what he knew.

"Do you think it has anything at all to do with you not wearing a
charms bracelet?" he asked.

Cindy looked at her wrist. "I doubt it. This started well before I
gave up my bracelet."

"I never knew exactly what the bracelet was for," added
Jackson. "Aside from identifying the girls that were available. Bernie
did say something about anchoring the programming, whatever that
means."

"In some hypnosis scenarios, the subject is helped by having a token
to which to direct their attention to remain in the trance. Perhaps
that's what the bracelet is for?"

Jackson shrugged. "Bernie did say that without the bracelet the girl
could become unstable when she was triggered. So yeah, maybe."

Daniel was still thinking about Cindy's reaction. "Maybe you have some
sort of natural immunity. Didn't you say that you thought that there
were drugs involved? Jackson, do you have any idea the process that
they used?"

Jackson shook his head. "No. I mean, I saw the lab once, and there
definitely were instruments that I guess could deliver drugs and
stuff, but there was also a lot of electronic junk around."

"Do you think you could get into that lab and get some info?"

"It's locked up pretty tight."

"Do you want to help Kyra?"

Jackson made to say something, but stopped himself, chastised. "I'll
see what I can do."

Daniel nodded. He wanted to tell Jackson he had Radhu looking for the
doctor, and that the FBI seemed to be looking for him as well, but
decided to keep that bit of information to himself. He did not trust
Jackson just yet. Jackson was upset and angry at Biff right now, but
who knew where his true allegiances would lie once he had calmed
down. He had one last question for Jackson.

"Biff said something about having Jenn do something to herself if they
were ever separated. Is that true?"

"How should I know?"

"I mean, does that fit with what you guys have done with the girls? Is
that even possible?"

Jackson seemed to take the question seriously, thinking about it
before replying. "I don't know. I was told that there was no way to
get the girls to do something when they were not triggered--no post
suggestions, or whatever they're called. Now, you gotta keep in
mind--I don't know what they did to Jenn. As far as I know, it wasn't
the doctor that did it, it was Bernie."

"And Bernie's gone."

"Bernie's gone."

Cindy suddenly stiffened, making a face like she had just thought of
something.

"What?" asked Daniel. She looked worried.

"Marjorie."

Daniel looked at her, not understanding what she was driving at;
Jackson appeared equally confused.

And then Jackson's eyes widened, and a look of horror crossed his
face. "Fuck! You don't think...?"

"What about Marjorie?" asked Daniel.

Cindy looked dejected. "Marjorie. I heard the guys talk once--it's
amazing what they'll say when they think you're a little ditz with
only getting off on her mind. They said that she was an experiment,
about keeping a girl triggered for long periods of time."

Jackson nodded. "I remember someone saying something like that
too--but they never talked about her much."

"Kevin did," Cindy said. The fraternity president, thought Daniel,
Biff's cousin. "And he said she was getting unstable. And that the
doctor was complaining his equipment was inadequate for the kind of
fine work needed to pull off that sort of adjustment to someone's
mind. Kevin was worried about Marjorie going postal and blowing it for
the frat, and that he'd have to pick up the pieces."

Daniel thought back to the party at the New American Deal Association,
where he had seen Marjorie collapse on a makeshift stage after some
sort of seizure or stroke. That had been the last time anyone had ever
seen her. Except for Serena, who had said Marjorie had been carted off
to a sanatorium, or something like that, to recover from her
ordeal. But can Serena be trusted about that? he wondered.

"You're thinking," he asked Cindy, "that Biff did something similar to
Jenn that had been done to Marjorie, to keep her--what did you call
it? triggered?--for longer periods of time?"

"That's pretty much the only way I can see that he managed to go on a
two-months long trip with her. She would have been okay with it while
she was triggered, but once she was out of it, she would have tried to
contact someone when she realized she was not home anymore."

"And you're worried the process is unstable, and that she might break
down as well?"

Cindy merely nodded.

"So what really happened to Marjorie?"

Both Cindy and Jackson shook their head. "No idea," said Jackson. "I
haven't seen her around since Christmas. She disappeared pretty much
when the doctor disappeared. And he was always with her. I wouldn't be
surprised if she's with him now, wherever he is."

"So we have to hurry and get Jenn out of there," concluded Daniel.

"And Kyra," added Jackson.

"And Kyra, of course."

A hush fell over the table, while Jackson finished his beer and
gestured to the waitress to bring him another one. He seemed less
angry than he had been earlier.

The silence was broken by Daniel's cell phone beeping at him that he
had a text message. He glanced at it. It was Radhu.

Found the doctor. Call me.

"Excuse me a minute," he said, leaving the table. He found a quieter
corner of the bar, near the restrooms. He dialed Radhu's number.

"It's me. What's up?"

"I have narrowed down a location for our elusive caregiver, the
plausibility of which I estimate to lie beyond what laymen would
consider a reasonable doubt."

"Where is he?"

"Your original intuition was correct. Our good doctor met with Serena
regularly, although under a disguise sufficiently sophisticated to
deceive my basic facial recognition algorithm. With a more refined
search restricted to the Serena footage, it was possible to isolate
him. He rendezvoused with Serena three times in the period from early
February to the end of March. The meetings all occurred on a
Wednesday, at four in the afternoon, at a small establishment in the
mall downtown, faithfully covered by a security video camera."

"Excellent. You mean it's likely they're going to meet there again
soon?"

"Yes, highly likely. But monitoring the premises may not be
necessary. They violated their pattern once. In early March, on a
Wednesday, at four in the afternoon, instead of meeting in town as per
their established pattern, Serena instead journeyed to an abandoned
building on East Campus, the old Ryder Hall, former home of the
Mathematics Department."

"Abandoned building on East Campus. The only one I can think of is the
small one next to the power station."

"The one and the same. Darnell has it scheduled for demolition once
students leave campus for summer break, according to internal
documents."

"Serena might just have been researching a story..."

"The probability of such an event is nonzero, of course. But inductive
reasoning suggests that she was calling on our evasive health
provider--"

"At his home away from home," completed Daniel.

"Precisely. An hypothesis confirmed by the fact that isolating the
feed from a surprisingly conveniently situated camera produced several
instances of the good doctor entering and leaving the aforementioned
building."

Daniel was thinking hard. "Anyone else?"

"Only Serena, that one time."

"Thanks Rad, that's exactly what I needed to hear. Can you figure out
whether he's in there now?"

"The feed ago showed him entering the building two days ago, at
night. He has not been out since, if we assume that the door covered
by the camera is the sole mean of egress."

"Then I guess it's time to go talk to Doctor Snowman."

"I must take this opportunity to remind you of the danger potential of
the situation. We know virtually nothing about this man. I have been
investigating him online, and does not seem to have a digital
footprint. In fact, he seems to not even exist."

"Don't worry, I'll be careful. You got at least one camera that can
track me there?"

"Only the one external camera at the power station that covers the
building. I cannot peer inside."

"Keep an eye on me when I go in. If I don't come out within a
reasonable time, call the cops."

"Please define reasonable time?"

"Let's say if I'm not out of there within an hour."

"And you are certain you would not prefer me to warn the police
beforehand? Or perhaps the FBI agent that introduced herself to you?"

"I don't trust them. Cindy said some of the cops are in on the whole
thing. I can't chance it. I need to talk to this guy before anyone
else does. Including the FBI."

"I am not overjoyed, but I understand. I will strive to maintain my
phone clear in case you require assistance."

"Perfect. Thanks Rad, I owe you another one."

"Nonsense. Please be cautious."

Daniel headed back to the table. Jackson was gone. "Restroom," said
Cindy. "Probably throwing up. Everything okay?"

"Getting better. Look Cin, I gotta go. Can I ask you a big favor?"

"Sure, go ahead."

"Can I borrow your taser?"

Cindy raised an eyebrow. "You're not thinking of going after Biff, are
you?"

"No, not today. Please?"

Cindy held his eyes for a few seconds. Daniel tried to keep his face
as unreadable as possible. Finally, she reached for her bag, and
handed him the small device, keeping her hands underneath the
table. "Here. But be careful, okay? You know how to use it?"

"Aim and shoot."

"Pretty much. Don't shoot yourself in the foot. You won't be happy."

"Thanks Cin. I'll have it back to you tonight."

"Only if you tell me what's going on then."

"Promised."

"Can I go with you?"

"Not a good idea. I promise I won't do anything crazy, and I'll tell
you all about it tonight, okay? And please don't follow me."

Cindy looked at him for another long moment, before nodding.

"Thanks Cin." He hesitated, then leaned over to give her a quick kiss.

He left the bar, plotting where he could purchase the equipment he now
needed.


				* * *


In a dark corner of the bar, her raven hair and leather coat fading
into the shadows, a glass of vodka sitting untouched on the table
before her, Agent Eve Shawbank had watched Daniel Malcolm return to
the table after taking his phone call, and seen the transfer of the
taser--an M26C, as far as she could tell--from the blonde girl to
Malcolm. A small tablet computer on her lap was still displaying a
copy of the text messages sent to and from Malcolm's cell phone. She
made a mental note to thank Brisecoeur for that admittedly convenient
application. Or not.

The last text message was the one that interested her.

Found the doctor. Call me.

Agent Shawbank permitted herself a rare smile.

She waited for Malcolm to leave the bar before following him, making
sure that the little blonde cutie with the delectable legs that
Malcolm had hooked did not notice her.


				* * *


Brad Emerson made sure that his car was hidden from the road by the
row of bushy trees before shutting the engine and getting out. He
stared at the beat-up car he had parked next to, recognizing it from
all the times he had seen it in the underground parking of the Delta
Iota Kappa frat house. Biff had asked him to make sure he was not
followed, and Brad was pretty sure he had not been.

Going up the steps of the main house of a small farm completely
indistinguishable from all other small farms in the countryside
surrounding North Alexandria, Brad wondered why exactly Biff had
called him. The frat president's cousin had not wanted to talk on the
phone, instead asking Brad to come see him instead. Brad had
hesitated, knowing that Biff was persona non grata these days--the
president's own words--but had finally decided to go along with it
because for one Biff was a friend, and second, Biff had told Brad that
he could make it worth his while. And thus here he was.

Brad rang the doorbell, and waited. When the door opened, he was
greeted by a sight he would have difficulty getting out of his mind in
the days ahead.

Brad stared at the girl who had opened the door, his voice catching in
his throat. She was as tall as he was, all in length, and with long
flowing dark hair that draped over her shoulders. She wore a large
white tee shirt bearing a Nike-style swoosh with Just Do Me written in
bright red letters--it was almost a dress, and did nothing to hide the
perfect frame supporting it. The collar was too wide and bared one
shoulder. Brad eyed the breasts that could be glimpsed through the
material. The shirt came down a few inches below the top of the girl's
thighs, covering her narrow hips but exposing a pair of long legs
perched atop a tall pair of red stiletto heels.

When his eyes traveled back up to her face, with only a pause to take
in a most kissable pair of lips painted bright red, he saw there were
sparkles in her eyes as she looked at him. She was clearly amused by
his blatant admiration. "You like?" she asked, her voice purring,
caressing, bewitching.

Brad was nonplussed, something that did not happen very often, and it
took him a second to regain his composure. He smiled, then shook his
head. "What's there not to like? I'm Brad."

The beautiful brunette smiled in response to his own smile, and
gingerly reached up with a hand and ran down the side of his cheek
with a red nail. "Biff's waiting for you Brad," she said, and the way
she said his name made Brad's dick stiffen at once. "Follow Jennie."

She turned around--her finger lingering on his face--and glided her
way across the floor like a model on a catwalk, one perfect leg in
front of the other, her hips swaying slightly in a silent come
on. Brad's eyes were glued to her ass, which looked invitingly tight
underneath her long shirt.

Brad followed her into what had to be the living room. Biff was
sitting on the couch, deep in the throes of a video game, muttering
under his breath at the large television screen that looked severely
out of place in the quaint farmhouse.

The tall girl--Jennie--walked up to stand next to Biff, and waited for
him to finish whatever battle he was currently raging. Brad looked
around the room, wondering what he was doing here, his eyes drawn over
and over again to the tall brunette with the perfect legs.

When Biff tossed down his controller with a profanity, he didn't even
look up before patting his lap. "Get down here, doll."

Jennie sat down onto his knees and put her arms behind his head before
kissing him, hard. Biff ran a hand up her leg and Brad noted without
any real surprise that the girl was not wearing any underwear.

The kiss lingered, a deep kiss that before too long had the girl
moaning into Biff's mouth while fidgeting on his lap as if her ass was
on a hot stovetop. When her mouth freed up she whimpered, "You make
Jennie so fuckin' horny, big guy. And when she's horny, she wants to
fuck, you know that. Do you want to go somewhere and plow Jennie's
tight cunt?"

Biff grinned, then turned towards Brad. The girl turned as well and
remembered her duty. "Oh yes, Brad's here."

"Brad! Good of you to make it."

Jennie jumped off from Biff's lap to let him stand. He gave her a
rough slap on the ass that made her yelp. Brad marveled at how her
breasts giggled beneath her shirt as she jerked.

"Doll, be a dear and go get our other friend warmed up, okay?"

The tall brunette nodded, and practically skipped out of the room,
stopping for a second next to Brad to look him in the eye and run a
nail down his face in a repeat of what she had done had the
door. "Maybe you might want to plow Jennie's tight cunt," she
whispered, her eyes alight with what Brad recognized as overpowering
lust. "She can make it very very good for you, you know."

Brad did not doubt the statement for one second, but Biff intervened
before Brad could say anything. "Leave him alone, doll--Brad and I
have some business to discuss. Now move your cute ass out of here
before I spank it off."

"Promises, promises..." mumbled Jennie before leaving the room,
swaying her hips while giving a quick glance to Brad over her left
shoulder as if to make sure he was watching.

"She's sweet, ain't she?" Biff grasped Brad shoulder, shaking him off
of his reverie.

"Yeah, she is. Who's she?"

"My new toy. And don't tell anyone," and Biff lowered his voice in a
mock conspiratorial tone, "but I think I'm in love!" He laughed, hard,
and invited Brad to sit down.

Brad did so, electing to simply smile at Biff and say nothing, waiting
for the big man to get around to why he wanted to see Brad in the
first place.

Biff did not waste any time. "Brad, I'm looking for your
support. You're one of the good guys in the frat, and people look up
to you."

"They do? News to me." He settled in his seat, uncomfortable. "What
kind of support are you looking for anyways?"

Biff stared at him for a long time before speaking. "Here's the
scoop. I think my cousin's been the big honcho for too long. I mean, I
was behind him at first, like the rest of us, and I can't deny that
he's done some good stuff, but he's been keeping us down lately. Not
allowing us to reach our full potential, you know, shit like that."

Brad looked at Biff, fearing a trap. Deep inside, of course, he agreed
with Biff--there had been a definite slowdown in frat activities these
last few months, and there had also been no influx of new girls. The
brothers had gotten used to getting a new girl every other week or
so. Everyone was starting to grumble, that was sure, and he was one of
them. He had shared that displeasure vocally to several of his
friends, but a lot of it was venting. Brad was not convinced that
ousting Kevin would help matters--the more reasonable part of him, the
one that spoke softly when he was lying down in bed at night--could
not help but suggest that their president had to have some sort of
good reason to behave the way he did. It was infuriating, granted, but
who knew what was really going on?

"I think he's been okay," Brad replied, cautious.

"Pfft!" Biff made a dismissive gesture. "Kev's always been a
know-it-all, ever since he was a little kid. And he hasn't gotten any
better. Always has to be on top, the best, the one everyone looks up
to. Always has to be the smart one, the one to make decisions, the one
that people admire. Always. Always a step above, always looking down
on me. But no more. No more. Look, if he's so okay, if he's so great,
how come we haven't gotten ahead and gotten new chicks? Come on, I
know you think like I do. Didn't you mention that hot babe there, that
sociology teacher, what's her name? Christina Monroe? Didn't you say
you'd love to get your hands on that ass of hers? Why isn't Kevin
listening to you, trying to make you happy? He doesn't care, that's
why. He never has." Biff was agitated, his face growing redder as he
spoke.

Brad tried hard to keep himself from reacting. Whatever else he might
feel about the fraternity's internal politics, this smelled like a
family feud, not a disagreement about how to run the fraternity. And
getting in the middle of a family feud when one member of said family
was Biff Cusker, bully extraordinaire, and the other was Kevin Cusker,
ruthless leader, well, that sounded like the most effective way to end
up as collateral damage. Still, backing down before Biff was not an
attractive proposition either.

"Let's be honest here," said Brad, feeling sweat drip down his
back. "How much does this have to do with Kevin sending you away
before?"

Anger flashed in Biff's eyes, and he barely managed to squash it. "Oh,
that didn't help. But there were problems before. Come on, Brad,
remember how hard we had to push him last year to get that Marjorie
whore out there to work for us? Remember how much money the frat raked
in? And Kev stonewalled the whole way."

"Well, that Marjorie business did cause problems--"

"Bah! Most of it because Kev was too incompetent to keep things under
control. No, I'm telling you, my wonderful cousin's just got to go."
Scorn was dripping from Biff's voice. Brad wondered briefly how far
back the animosity that Biff held towards his cousin went.

"Biff, I don't know. You're putting me in an uncomfortable position
here..."

Biff nodded. "I am, aren't I?" He laughed. "I like you Brad, always
have. You're my kind of guy. Which is why I'm gonna make a deal with
you. You get on my side, help me muster up the troops, and I get you
something you want."

"What do you mean?"

"Doll!" Biff shouted loud enough to be heard all through the
farmhouse. "Get your ass down here and bring our friend!" He turned to
Brad. "So, what do you think of Jennie?"

Brad was caught by surprise by the topic change. "She's pretty hot..."

Biff laughed again. "She's fuckin' smokin', you mean! I'll let you in
on a little secret, okay? Remember what the doc did to Marjorie?"

"What he did to Marjorie? What do you mean?... Oh! Wait! You mean, the
way he made it so that she was triggered for long stretches at a
time?"

Biff nodded, grinning, not saying a word.

Brad finally clicked. "You mean...? You mean Jennie's like that?
Triggered all the time?"

Biff was still grinning. "And not just that. She's also aware. She
just can't control herself. You know, like that blonde cheerleader
chick we got end of last year?"

Brad whistled, and his dick twitched at the thought. Triggered all the
time, and therefore obeying all of Biff's orders, and also aware of
her actions, just not able to control them. This cut deep into some of
Brad's darkest repressed fantasies.

Before either of them could say anything further, Brad heard the
clacking of Jennie's heels on the hardwood floor. She appeared at the
entrance of the living room. She was not alone.

Brad forgot to breathe for a few seconds.

Jennie held a chain in her hands, a chain that was attached to a
collar tight around the neck of a naked girl with short red hair
walking slowly on her hands and knees. When Jennie stopped and jerked
once on the chain, the redhead immediately stopped as well and pulled
herself up to a kneeling position.

Brad did not need to stare to recognize her. He stared
anyway. Kyra. Naked, her breasts standing firm and proud on her chest,
her beautiful body shiny in the light coming in from the window. Her
eyes were cast down, her whole demeanor docile. Submissive. Her hands
were joined atop her thighs. A large ball gag in her mouth kept her
jaws from closing.

Jennie, holding the chain--no, a leash, was the thought that flashed
in Brad's mind, sending blood flowing to his groin in a rush that left
him dizzy--stood next to Kyra, dominating the lithe redhead with a
thin smile. She licked her lips while looking directly at Brad, who
could do nothing more than swallow and look back down at Kyra.

"What... what's this about?" he asked Biff, his eyes never leaving the
kneeling redhead.

"What does it look like it's about? You know our little Kyra there,
don't you? Except we don't call her that here. We call her
cunt. That's what she is. A submissive little cunt, all wet and ready
to be used. Oh come on--don't make that face. I've got my sources, and
they all agree that you've got a big hard-on for that submissive
little cunt. Especially the submissive part"

Brad purposely did not look at Biff, focusing instead on Kyra's hard
nipples. The way Biff talked about it, he made it sound so
dirty. Judgmental ass, thought Brad. Like you're so much better than I
am.

"The funny thing is," continued Biff, "I didn't even know she was a
sub. We spent some quality time with her a couple of days ago, Jennie
and I, and it was Jennie who realized exactly what the cunt was. But
lemme tell you, I really dug that. I can really see what you see in
her. Anyway, I got Jennie here to train her a bit--that doll has one
crazy imagination and some pretty dirty ideas--wow! And the little
cunt here has been getting better and better at following commands and
recognizing her true masters are."

Brad was still avoiding looking at Biff, and trying hard to figure out
what the big guy's play was here. Brad's dick, as he fastened his eyes
on Kyra's ball gag, shiny with her saliva, large and tight enough to
cause her to drool from the corner of her lips, those lips bright red
against the black rubber ball--his dick was pushing him to just say
fuck it and go grab Kyra and fuck her into the next century, perhaps
getting the tall brunette with the long legs to help him out. With a
supreme display of willpower, he controlled himself.

Biff must have read all of this in Brad's eyes because he laughed out
loud. "Here, let me demonstrate. Doll--you know what to do."

Jennie smiled and looked down at the kneeling redhead before yanking
sharply on the chain. "Guess what, little cunt?" She leaned towards
the redhead, pulling on the chain. "You get to satisfy a cock
now. Aren't you the lucky one? You get to showcase all those
hard-earned skills of yours. And you better make Jennie proud, cunt,
or you're going to be punished harder tonight than you've ever been
before." Jennie yanked on the leash once more, and Kyra shivered
before going down on all four again, her eyes never lifting from the
floor. Walking with exaggerated hip motions, Jennie catwalked slowly
across the room in Brad's direction, two steps ahead of Kyra. Brad's
eyes were fixated on Kyra's breasts swinging gently as she struggled
to keep up with the tall brunette.

Jennie yanked on the chain once to stop the redhead. Kyra went back to
her kneeling position, eyes cast down.

"Go ahead," said Biff. "She's all yours." He gestured to Jennie. "Give
him the leash, doll."

Brad was unable to take his eyes away from Kyra, his gaze directed at
the space between her thighs where he could see that she was shaved
bare, noting in passing that her skin really was shining as though she
had been oiled up. Almost absently, he grabbed the leash that Jennie
was proffering. "N...Now?" he said, finally.

"Of course. Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I'll keep busy with
my own toy." He grinned at Jennie. "Come here, doll. And ditch the
shirt. I wanna see your titties dance."

"Are you gonna shove your big cock deep into Jennie's tight cunt and
make her come, big guy?" Jennie pulled her tee shirt over her head as
she strode towards Biff, giving Brad a flash of her perfect naked
ass. "You promised Jennie you'd let her come if she was good. And
Jennie's been very very good, don't you think? Please?"

Brad was distracted from that exchange by Kyra unfastening his belt
and working to pull down his pants. She never looked up at him,
working deftly and in silence. He had been with her many times before,
but this was different. Brad stole a glance in Biff's direction. "Do
I...? Is she...?"

Biff laughed as he pulled Jennie down between his legs. "That's the
beautiful thing, man--she's not triggered right now. You've got the
real deal there."

Brad looked at Biff uncomprehendingly. "What do you mean, not
triggered?" Then how could she be there, baring his dick, her breath
short, if she was not triggered?

Biff grinned. "Just what I said. Pretty impressive, ain't it? You know
what the trick is? My little fuck doll Jennie here figured it
out--just use the triggering against her. Show the cunt recordings of
what she does when she's triggered, show her that no matter what she
wants, she gets used like the cunt she really is. Over and over
again. Took two days for that little cunt there to break and accept
the truth. Anyway, you can trigger her if you want, but she's a lot
more fun when she's not. Trust me. It's like fucking bareback: you do
it once, you never want to do it any other way."

While Brad tried to digest the news he had been imparted--turning his
attention back to Kyra who was gently stroking his dick--Biff looked
at Jennie who was playing with his own shaft. "You've got brains,
doll, I give you that. But I'm not after your brains right now. Blow
me good, doll, and I'll consider consider making you come this
time. No hands. Just your mouth. Oh! That's it! Fuck! Oh yes!"
Jennie's head was bobbing slowly in Biff's lap, and Brad was in the
best possible position to admire the round buttocks of the tall
brunette. "Tell you what, doll," Biff continued, "if you beat your
record for how long you can keep my cock stuffed down your throat,
I'll make you come. Deal?" He did not wait for an answer as he thrust
his hips forward to skewer Jennie, who took it in stride.

Brad looked down at Kyra, who by that point had gingerly grabbed his
erection in her hand and was slowly rubbing it up and down. He felt
the leash in his hand, heard the chain clink when he moved. After
watching her and especially feeling her for a while, he wound the
leash in his fist and when it was taut he yanked on his, pulling
Kyra's head to the side. She stopped what she was doing.  "Look at
me," he said, keeping his voice low, still ambivalent about Biff's
presence.

Kyra hesitated a second before lifting up her gaze towards Brad. He
stared at her a long time, taking it all in--the fear, the acceptance,
the lust fighting it out in her eyes in a kaleidoscopic fashion. She
had a coat of makeup on, he realized. She's been primped for this. Her
skin had been oiled and her face had been decorated, like an offering
of old. And Brad knew. He just knew that Biff would offer to give him
Kyra in exchange for his support, for his assistance, for his help.

Kyra was still looking at him, silent, probably trying to divine what
he wanted, trying to anticipate his needs. Her lips were stretched out
over her ball gag, he could see, and he absent-mindedly ran a finger
over the red flesh. He was thinking. Because of Kyra's programming, of
course, Brad could more or less use her anytime he wanted. Except that
she was in love with Jackson, for real, and Jackson could cause
problems if he ever decided that she was his exclusive. The frat boys
would protest, of course, but the old bro code would kick in, the one
that said that you do not fuck with a brother's girl. Already Brad had
to be careful with some of his friends at the frat because of his
dallying with the cute redhead. But here she was, with him, right now,
looking at him with desire, and without even being triggered, a
submissive in training, and were he to claim her, he could have her
drop Jackson and shack up with him, and he could have her any time he
wanted, any way he wanted, for as long as he wanted.

He raised his eyes towards Biff on the other side of the room. Biff
was leaning back with his eyes closed, letting the tall brunette on
her knees between his legs worship his dick noisily, her hands
together behind her back. This is exactly what he's counting on, you
know, Brad thought. That's you want Kyra for yourself.

Back to Kyra, still staring at him, her hand stroking his dick. He
stared back at her, hunger and apprehension clashing within him. He
tugged on the leash once more, seeing her straighten up, at attention,
and his dick jerked in response. "You little cunt," he whispered. He
caught the slight stiffening of her spine, the tension in her hand
clenching on his erection. "You like this, don't you, you little
cunt?"

Unable to hold his gaze, she lowered her eyes and after a few
heartbeats nodded.

"Look at me, you cunt!" She did, her eyes big. He loved the expression
they held. "You like to be on your knees like that, ready to serve?"

Another nod.

"Show me."

A hesitant look.

"Squeeze your tit and pinch your nipple."

She reached up with a hand--keeping the other one on his dick--pressed
it against one of her breasts and squeezed, the flesh blanching under
the pressure, while she pinched the hard nipple between two fingers.

"Harder."

Fingers shaking under the strain, she looked for all the world like
she wanted to pop her nipple like a zit.

"Harder. With your nails."

She moaned through her gag as she obediently dug her nails into her
rapidly swelling nipple, closing her eyes. Her other hand never
stopped swiping up and down his dick, and Brad felt it throb harder as
he watched the beautiful redhead abuse herself.

"Fuck you're a hot cunt," he grunted, Biff's presence now
forgotten. "Come up here and ride me."

Kyra scrambled up and straddled Brad's lap. He could hear the loud
sucking noises from the other side of the room, as Biff pushed his own
hips up and thrust into Jennie's eager mouth. Sounds of gurgling and
gagging resounded regularly, emphasizing that Biff was not going easy
on the girl, who never let up on her rhythm.

Brad was brought back to his own situation when he felt Kyra slowly
sink herself down on his hard shaft. She was so wet that he
encountered almost no resistance going in--it was like sliding into
molten butter. He grabbed her by the waist and pushed her further down
against him, making her groan. "Fuck!" he growled, "you're juicier
than a whore when the army comes to town! You couldn't wait to feel my
big dick inside you, didn't you? You're such a dirty filthy cunt!"

She shivered, and Brad remembered how she craved insults and being
told how low she was when she was triggered. It looked like she loved
it now as well, though her reaction was more subdued.

"Pinch your little whore nips again, cunt! That's all you're good for,
isn't it? Abusing your own body for men's pleasure while they use you
like a rag? Is that what you are? A rag? A spunk rag? Just a bunch of
holes begging to be ripped open?"

Kyra was kneading her breasts, her fingers pinching her nipples as
ordered. She pumped up and down on Brad's dick, a thin layer of sweat
forming on her skin from her exertions.

Brad could feel her pussy clench around him, massaging him. His hands
ran up and down her sides, pressing down on her hips whenever she
bottomed out onto his lap, once in a while circling around to palm her
round buttocks. He swiped two fingers along the crack of her ass,
tickling her nether hole. He smiled.

"Look at me, you little cunt! When I get tired of pounding you like
this, I'm gonna shove my big dick deep in that ass of yours and fuck
you so hard you'll need diapers."

Kyra's breathing was ragged, as she stared at him with wide eyes into
which fear and craving flickered back and forth rapidly. She slammed
herself down onto his shaft with accrued force, still squeezing her
breasts.

Brad slipped a finger into her ass, enjoying the way it gripped him
and seemed to pull him inside. "Then I'm gonna ram my dick down your
throat, and let you lick it clean. You like that, you little cunt? You
like the thought of being a toilet whore? I think I'll get you to lick
my ass clean, too. Get you to dig your tongue inside as far as it'll
go, you little cunt! You little dick-sucking, ass-licking, shit-eating
little cunt!"

Brad pulled one of Kyra's hands away from her breast and leaned over
to grab the hardened abused nipple between his lips and bit on it,
hard, making Kyra gasp hard through the gag. She slammed down onto his
shaft one last time before stiffening at once, and her whole body
seized up before starting to shake as she came so hard he thought his
dick would be choked off in the process. And when her pussy started
convulsing like crazy it milked his shaft so forcefully that he could
not help thrust once, twice, three times into her before exploding
himself.

She collapsed against him, panting with difficulty, flushed,
satisfied, while he struggled to regain his balance. He distractedly
noted that Biff on the other side of the room seemed to be coming
himself, unleashing a groan mixed with an obscenity while Jennie
gagged loudly. Brad did not bother looking, keeping his eyes closed.

When he opened them he saw Jennie standing next to him. Her eyes were
red, and her makeup had run under the facial assault she had
undoubtedly received. Her lips looked swollen. Still, she had a smile
on her face as she winked at him before pulling back Kyra's
head. Jennie took off Kyra's ball gag and forced the redhead to arch
her back before kissing her hard. Brad saw the thick spunk Jennie had
been holding in her mouth dribble down into Kyra's, compelling the
exhausted redhead to swallow Biff's spent, and he felt her pussy
clench up as she shivered.

"Do you want the little cunt?" Biff's voice rang loud in the suddenly
silent farmhouse. "She's yours. If you help me. A submissive little
cunt, to do your bidding. Whether she's triggered or not. Best of both
worlds. It's a good deal. And when I'm head of the frat, we'll get you
your little sociology teacher, too. Maybe even get her fixed like my
little fuck doll here. Obedient and always triggered."

"You... you can do that?" Jennie had let Kyra go, and the redhead had
cuddled up against him, her breasts pressing into his chest, her ass
straddling his groin.

"Of course. Nothing's too good for my vice-president." Biff cleared
his throat. "By the way--Meant to ask earlier, but where's Bernie?
I've been trying to get in touch with him for the last week, but no
luck."

"Nobody's seen him for the last couple of months."

"Mmm... Kevin sent him packing too?"

"I guess. But no one knows anything. His father called a few times,
too. Freaky."

"Mmm..." was all the response Biff gave. "Well, guess I'll have to ask
my dear cousin when I see him, then. No matter. So, what do you say?"

Brad looked at Kyra, who during their conversation had slid down
between his legs to gently caress his shaft with her hands, her
cheeks, her whole face, rubbing against it as if she were a cat
craving attention, never looking up at him. Now that she did not have
her ball gag anymore, her mouth was free, and she took took advantage
of it to suck him deep, cleaning his shaft of her own juices. He knew
she would do anything he asked, even though she was not triggered. She
would choke herself for him. Over and over again. Whenever he
wanted. He could practically own her. He could own her.

Brad looked up at Biff. "What do you need me to do?"


				* * *


Daniel checked to make sure no one was around as he crossed towards
the small abandoned building that looked like it was about to be
swallowed by the monstrosity of tall metallic towers and high-energy
lines that was the power station against which it was nestled.

He cut through a row of bushes overgrown with neglect before reach the
external wall of the building, and walked hugging the wall until he
reached the entrance, feeling silly, but still wanting to be
careful. He spotted the video camera that Radhu had exploited hanging
off a small tower beyond the tall fence of the power station. He gave
a thumbs up, certain that Radhu was catching the feed live and keeping
an eye on him. He tightened the strap on his backpack--unusually
heavy, but then, he was carrying unusual stuff--and carefully opened
the door to the building after ducking beneath the wide yellow
CONDEMNED tape barring the door. The old sign proclaiming this to be
the Department of Mathematics, Darnell University, was still readable
despite the wear. He clutched the taser in his left hand, and a small
flashlight in his right.

It was dark inside. Daniel pulled his phone and consulted the floor
plans that Radhu had messaged him. He figured he would search the
building from the basement up, as burrowing seemed like the natural
reaction of anyone wanting to hide. He located two stairwells leading
down, and decided to use the service one. He checked to make sure his
phone was silent, then headed down, trying to make as little noise as
possible.

The stairs led to a door that required a hard push to open. Daniel
cringed at the noise, stopping to see if he heard any other noise in
response, one that could be interpreted as someone reacting to an
unexpected noise. He almost smiled when he realized that if the doctor
had heard him he was undoubtedly standing as still as Daniel was to
try to identify the source of the original noise.

After five long minutes, Daniel stepped through the door, using a
stray chair to keep the door from clanging shut. The floor plans
indicated a large hallway with classrooms on one side of the building,
and something that looked like a machine room on the other side. He
started with the machine room, finding it empty of life but full of
discarded broken classroom furniture. There was a thick layer of dust
on everything, suggesting that no one had been in the building for a
long time. Radhu had told him that it had been vacated seven years
earlier, and condemned two years later.

Entering the large hallway, he saw that one side of it look like it
had been swept up. Following one direction of the trail with the beam
of his flashlight, he saw it led to the bottom of the stairwell he had
elected not to take. In the other direction, the swept-up path ended
at the second door on the left, which was ajar. Bingo.

The taser at the ready, his flashlight off, he sidled along the wall,
and slowly approached the door. From inside came vague
mutterings. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he leaned over
and peered through the opening between the door and the frame. The
room inside was lit by a single overhead light bulb hanging from a
long cord and casting a pale light that showed several tables pushed
together and heaped with what looked like high-school chemistry
experiments gone awry. Hunched over one of the tables, perched atop a
tall stool and peering into a laptop computer, a man in a white lab
coat was mumbling to himself. The doctor, Daniel figured.

A quick look told Daniel no one else was with the doctor, unless
someone was hiding behind the door. Praying that the door would not
squeak, Daniel slowly pushed it open. It did make a noise, but the
doctor never noticed. He was typing furiously on his laptop, once in a
while interrupting himself to run a hand through his hair.

Daniel stepped through the door, peering quickly around it to confirm
that they were alone. He crept up to the middle of the room, unnoticed
by the doctor, and then stopped for a second to wonder how exactly he
should proceed. It had been much easier than he had expected. Too
easy, in fact. Still, what else was there to do? How do you address
your nemesis? he wondered.

He cleared his throat. "Doctor Cargyle, I presume?" Well done Daniel,
go for the classics.

The man on the stool jumped almost a full foot in the air before
twisting around, throwing the stool to the floor in the
process. "What...?"

In a flash, Daniel recognized the man he had seen pushing Marjorie
into a limousine all those months ago, the man he had seen at the NADA
party rushing to Marjorie's side when she collapsed on the stage, the
man in the photograph that Agent Shawbank had given him. It was
him. Snowman. Thaddeus Cargyle. The doctor.

The man's eyes, wide in panic, took in the taser in Daniel's hand, and
he bolted.

He was too slow. Daniel fired, and the two probes of the taser shot
out and hit the doctor in the chest, discharging immediately. The
doctor collapsed on the ground, seizing as 50,000 volts coursed
through his body. After a few seconds, he stopped, and lay twitching
on the floor of the abandoned classroom.

Daniel stood in shock--nothing prepared one for the violence of a
taser discharge the first time they witnessed it. After several
seconds that elapsed like minutes, he rushed to the side of the fallen
man, and reassured himself that the doctor was still alive.

He looked around the room, and saw exactly the kind of thing he
needed, a mostly torn down wall that exposed plumbing and struts. He
pulled the doctor to that wall, and fished out a heavy chain, a lock,
and plastic fasteners from his backpack. After tying the hands of the
doctor behind his back with the plastic fasteners, he ran the chain
around the doctor's waist and locked it to one of the struts.

With the doctor resting again the wall, Daniel searched the room
carefully, trying to put himself in the mind of someone trying to
escape being tied up and looking for anything that might help such an
escape, getting rid of anything remotely sharp within walking
distance, the whole time keeping an ear out to see if anyone else was
coming down. When he was sure the room was secure, he examined what
was on the table.

He could not understand the experiments currently running, but he
turned down the burners and the electric plates. No sense in starting
a fire. The laptop computer was a serviceable machine, currently
running some statistical analysis. Daniel interrupted it, slid in a
USB key, and copied everything that seemed reasonable to copy. He
perused the files on the system, but nothing caught his eye. He hoped
Radhu would be able to make sense out of some of it.

He heard Cargyle struggle to say something, regaining the ability to
control his muscles. He put the laptop to sleep, and slid it into his
backpack before turning to the recovering doctor, who was shaking his
head.

"What...?" Cargyle mumbled, moving to stand up and remaining utterly
confused by the fact that his hands were tied behind his back. He
jerked on his chains a few times, looking lost and unable to make
sense of anything.

"Don't struggle. You're tied up."

"What...? Who... who are you?" Cargyle managed to focus enough to
stare at Daniel, who stepped down from the stool and approached the
doctor.

"It doesn't really matter who I am. It matters much more who you
are. Doctor Thaddeus Cargyle, also know as Snowman. Am I wrong?"

"Who are you?"

"Let's see. You've worked for the Delta Iota Kappa fraternity to
provide them with girls to use as sexual slaves. Stop me if I'm
getting anything wrong. Those girls have been programmed to be used by
the fraternity members, triggered when a member wearing a fraternity
ring utters the sentence 'I am your DIK brother.' The girls are marked
with a silver charms bracelet that is used to anchor their
programming--your words."

Cargyle was staring with ever widening eyes as Daniel spoke, which
Daniel found oddly rewarding. This was the man ultimately responsible
for Jenn's predicament. Remember that, he told himself.

"One of those girls, Marjorie Duquesne, was an experiment in long-term
triggering, and was used by the fraternity as a kind of reward for
services rendered. Posing as Snowman, you shadowed her while she was
out to keep an eye on your experiment and check for signs of
instability and ultimately failure. And failure happened, in early
December, at a party hosted by the New American Deal Association,
where she collapsed on stage after suffering what looked like a
stroke. How am I doing so far?"

Cargyle did not answer. He was petrified. He was eyeing Daniel as if
expecting him to pull out a knife and gut him right where he knelt.

Daniel crouched by the pale doctor, taser at the ready. "Now, Doctor,
I do not especially care about what you have done, or why. What I want
to know is how to reverse the process."

"Reverse... the process?"

"Don't play dumb with me. You did something to these girls, to get
them to obey what they're told. Wiped their mind, something. I want to
know how to undo it."

"I don't--"

"I WANT TO KNOW HOW TO UNDO IT!" Daniel slammed his fist against the
wall two inches from the doctor's face. The doctor jumped as much as
his restraints permitted him to.

"No," the doctor said, steeling himself for the onslaught that might
follow. "I won't say a thing."

Daniel had not expected quite that response. The doctor was looking at
him with apprehension, but his fear seemed to be dissipating. I'm not
who he was expecting, Daniel realized.

"Then how about I bring you to the cops? I bet they can make you give
some answers."

"Nice try. The cops don't know I'm here. Go ahead, call them." The
doctor was gaining assurance with every passing second. "I might be
guilty of trespassing on private property. But you're guilty at least
of assault with a weapon. I'll take my chances."

Daniel gritted his teeth, forcing himself to calm down. "Then if not
the cops, about the FBI? I know for a fact that they're looking for
you." He pulled out the picture that Agent Shawbank had given him, and
slapped it on the ground in front of the doctor. "They gave me this
picture, the picture that led me right to your hiding place."

The doctor gave one look to the photograph on the ground and he jerked
back, his eyes wide, his fear back and magnified. He started to
shake. "Where... where did you get that...?"

"I told you. The FBI's looking for you. An agent gave it to me. Told
me to call her if I ran into you. Maybe I should give her a call."
Daniel pulled out his phone.

The doctor shrieked. "No way, no way, no way," he kept muttering,
looking right, looking left, pulling on his restraints hard enough to
cause serious injuries if he did not stop. Daniel was surprised. It
had not been the threat of the FBI that had caused the doctor's fear,
but the photograph itself. He looked at it again. It was a typical
identification photograph, the kind you would find on a badge, on
which the doctor was maybe five to ten years younger. Why would that
picture scare the doctor so much? What was going on here?

The doctor was shaking, his eyes still darting left and right, trying
to crawl into the wall. Daniel did not understand, but he was happy to
press his advantage. Still holding his phone, he waved to get
Cargyle's attention. "It doesn't have to be that way. I don't have to
call."

Cargyle was looking at him with wild eyes, still jerking on the chain
at random intervals.

"Just tell me how to undo it," continued Daniel.

Cargyle swallowed, then groaned. "Need... need the girls."

"You need me to bring the girls? And you can deprogram them?"

Cargyle nodded. "Yes..."

"And you can get rid of whatever was done to them?"

Cargyle nodded again. "Yes. Difficult, but I can... I can do
it... Just... just don't call them... Please... Please!"

The pleading tone in his voice surprised Daniel. It sounded less like
someone begging not to be handed over to the cops than someone begging
for his life.

"Swear to me. Swear to me that you can take care of it."

Cargyle nodded again, this time passionately. "I swear! Please! Don't
call them!"

Daniel put his phone back in his pocket. "I won't. But I'm also not
untying you either. You're going to stay here until I get back with
Jenn, and until you show me how to reverse whatever the fuck was done
to her. And then we're going to take care of the others, and then
you'll be free to go. Deal?"

"What? No... Don't leave me here!"

"No choice. I can't trust you not to disappear. And I've had enough of
folks disappearing on me."

Daniel pulled out a jug of water from his backpack, as well as two
handfuls of energy bars, and left them within reach of
Cargyle. "There. This should keep you from starving until I get
back. A few days, and we can resume our conversation. Anything funny
happens, and I call the FBI."

Cargyle looked at him with a mixture of anger and fear and
resignation.

Daniel put the doctor's laptop computer in his backpack, did a final
check around the room to make sure he had not overlooked something
that Cargyle could somehow reach and use to escape, and finally
left. He closed the door behind him on the way out.

He called Radhu upon leaving the building, telling him it everything
went according to plan, and that he had a computer for him to sink his
teeth into. He also asked his Indian friend to keep an eye on the
camera pointed at the building, in case the doctor somehow managed to
escape, or in case anyone showed up.

All he had to do now was to get Jenn and bring her back here. Radhu
still had his face recognition software running and filtering through
the wireless camera feeds. But Daniel knew just when and where he
would find her. Biff had told him already. The Delta Iota Kappa big
spring party, DIK-Bash, was this week. And Jenn would be there.


				* * *


Agent Eve Shawbank watched Daniel Malcolm leave the abandoned building
after throwing a quick glance left and right. She noted with curiosity
that the weight of his backpack had changed, as Malcolm was straining
less to carry it. She had not seen exactly what Malcolm had purchased
at the hardware store before coming here, but whatever it was it had
been heavy, and he had left it inside. She watched him hurry down the
road.

She emerged from the grove of pine trees that had sheltered her from
Malcolm's eyes, and brushed off the needles that had landed on her
coat. Her movements were unhurried and methodical, with no wasted
energy. She slowly scanned the area, coming to the same conclusion
Malcolm had evidently reached, that they were utterly alone. She did a
second pass, even slower, moving her eyes up the structures
surrounding the abandoned building, noting the camera hanging off a
small tower on the power station ground. That had been undoubtedly how
Malcolm had known to come here. She had seen the thumbs-up Malcolm had
given earlier, and she figured that he must have an accomplice
hijacking the feed for surveillance. She had a good guess as to who
that accomplice might be. She would confirm it later.

She waited five minutes before moving. Circling away from the building
and towards the power station while staying out of range of the
camera, she reached the fence of the power station. The camera was
wireless, which made everything easier. She pulled out her small
tablet computer from the inner pocket of her coat, and started off the
appropriate application. She saw the wireless transmission from the
camera clearly, and identified the base station further inside the
power station. She intercepted and recorded a short two minutes
segment of the feed, and then keyed in the codes that would let her
hack into the base station, changing the expected frequency of the
camera feed, while at the same time transmitting her recorded clip
into a loop onto that new frequency. From the perspective of anyone
looking at the feed, there would be a tiny glitch as the base station
adjusted its frequency, and then they would see the recorded clip she
was currently broadcasting in lieu of the actual camera feed,
effectively blinding the camera. Unless someone was currently at the
power station intently keeping his eyes on the log watching for
frequency changes in their camera setup, no one would be the wiser.

Leaving the tablet computer underneath a bush, she walked to the
entrance of the abandoned building. She stepped beneath the tape just
like Malcolm had done, and opened the door. She had no difficulty
following the tracks Malcolm had left in the dust. When the tracks
turned a corner into darkness, she pulled out a small flashlight. She
tried as much as possible to step within his footsteps, in case
Malcolm returned and was surprised to see two distinct tracks.

She followed Malcolm's trail to the door opening on the stairwell
leading to the basement. Slowly, careful not to make more noise than
strictly necessary, she went down. She caught a small rat scurrying
away from the beam of her flashlight.

In the basement hallway, she had no difficulty recognizing the door
through which Malcolm had gone through. She went to it, and
listened. She heard breathing coming form the other side of the door,
and indistinct mutters. She felt the end of the chase, the cold
satisfaction of the prey caught. She pulled out her gun, though she
had no intention of using it.

She pushed the door open, slowly, all her senses on the alert.

She found nothing unexpected, except Doctor Cargyle chained to a water
pipe on one side of the room. The rest of the classroom bore witness
to his continuing experiments.

Shawbank relaxed and holstered her weapon, savoring the moment,
waiting for the doctor to realize he was no longer alone.

When the doctor raised his head, he stopped muttering, and his eyes
grew wider than Shawbank thought human eyes could physically grow. A
low moan seemed to emerge from the doctor's wide-open mouth.

"Doctor Thaddeus Cargyle. I have been looking for you."

The doctor did not respond, but the low moan grew louder. The acrid
smell of piss wafted through the air. Shawbank did not need to look to
see the dark puddle forming between the doctor's legs.

She took a step towards him. The doctor seemed jolted by her movement,
and while his moan grew into the beginning of a scream, he frantically
backpedaled, bumping hard into the pipe to which he was chained. The
look on his face was like a fine wine to Shawbank, who permitted
herself a smile that seemed to frighten the doctor even more.

Without saying a word, she unhurriedly made her way to the doctor, who
gave up struggling and simply stared at her like a deer caught in
headlights, his eyes as large and shiny as half-dollar coins, his body
shaking.

Shawbank went down to one knee before the doctor, and said not a word,
merely kept her small smile on her face. The smell of urine was
stronger now, pungent. She hoped he would not void his bowels as well,
as the consequent smell would make what was to follow sightly
unpleasant.

She ran a red fingernail down the doctor's cheek, not unlike a lover's
caress. That she found him disgusting did not prevent her from doing
so. One had to sacrifice oneself for the effect, sometimes.

"I want the serum," she said.

Cargyle's shaking grew more pronounced. He was trying to speak, and it
took him a few attempts to get a recognizable sound out.

"I don't--"

"Don't." She put a finger over his lips, fighting the distaste. "I was
sent to find you and retrieve what you stole. I want the serum."

She let her words sink in. She was in no hurry. She looked around the
room. She noted the wires leading from the wall and various
experiments to a spot on the table that should naturally have held a
computer but was empty. She deduced that Malcolm had snatched the good
doctor's computer, and possibly his notes. That was a snag, but a
minor one.

"Where is the serum, doctor? I have searched your laboratory at the
fraternity, but you would not have left it behind." She paused,
looking at him square in the eye. She knew exactly what her look
conveyed, what her eyes expressed, how he was bound to react. She
watched the implications of what she had told him work its way into
his frightened but still brilliant mind--that she knew about Delta
Iota Kappa, that she therefore knew about the girls and about the
unauthorized adjustments he had performed. The doctor paled even more.

She let the venom drip into his mind before running her nail down his
cheek again, this time pressing a bit harder.

 "I ask again, doctor. Where is the serum? Give it to me, and I shall
 make sure you do not suffer." There was no need to spell it
 out. Cargyle knew the score, had known it since he had decided to
 steal from the Corporation.

Cargyle swallowed a few times, and to Shawbank's practiced eye looked
like he was about to start bargaining. She looked at him without any
expression, waiting to see what his next move would be. Cargyle must
have come to the conclusion that there was no way out of the
situation, because he seemed to slump in place, the tension that had
been keeping his body upright vanishing in one instant. He looked
tired. Tired, old, and hopeless.

"Promise?" he asked. Even his voice had lost any inflection.

"Promise," she said. She bore him no ill will, although she would have
been happier with him had he not led her on a wild goose chase for the
past year. But she was paid to do her job, and paid well.

He nodded, once, twice, to reassure himself, then lifted his arm as if
to point somewhere when he remembered his hands were tied. He
grunted. Then he nodded towards a corner of the room. "The black tile
there, in the back, a knight's move from the corner one. It's loose."

Shawbank straightened up, unhurriedly, then stepped to the corner of
the room, her practiced eye automatically scanning for potential
traps. She did not believe the doctor would try to pull something off
at this point, but people in her position did not live long if they
were not careful. She found the tile, examined it, and elected to
dislodge it using a piece of wood lying on the ground. Underneath,
there was a dug out hole in the concrete, from which she pulled out a
small steel box.

She opened it, and nodded when she saw the small flask it
contained. She walked to the table, set down the flask, and pulled
from her pocket a featureless black box. Carefully, she opened the
flask and slid out a dropper filled with a deep burgundy liquid. She
let one drop fall into the middle of the black box, which responded by
turning a square inch of its surface a pale green. It was the
serum. The most important task of her assignment was now completed.

She pocketed the black box, returned the flask to the steel box, and
turned towards Cargyle, who had not bothered to follow her movements
around the room and had remained sitting dejectedly on the ground.

She walked towards him, then around him, before kneeling on one knee
behind him. She pulled out Magenta from the sheath embedded in an
inner pocket of her long leather coat. In the same movement, she
grabbed Cargyle by the hair and both straightened him up and pulled
his head back. Before he could say anything, she ran her hunting knife
across his throat, slitting it in one practiced motion and deep enough
to feel the blade scratch his cervical vertebrae. Blood gushed forth,
splashing on the abandoned classroom's floor, and she let Cargyle's
body fold into the widening red pool.

Standing up, she was pleased to see that she had not gotten a single
drop of blood on jacket. The cleaning bill was always atrocious. She
wiped Magenta on the back of Cargyle's laboratory coat.

By the time she emerged from the abandoned building carrying the steel
box with the serum and recovered her tablet computer, she had stashed
the doctor's body in the old furnace, after getting rid of his fingers
and teeth to make identification more difficult.

She had completed two of the three tasks that her assignment required:
she had recovered the serum, and she had eliminated the doctor. All
that remained now was cleaning up the mess that he had caused. It was
time to call in the team.