The throbbing in Darryly shoulder and arm had subsided thanks to some serious painkillers. His head was sore, but the doctors told him there was no concussion. Once the folks at the ICU relocated his shoulder he was transported to the police station. His arm was in sling but he was still cuffed and handled roughly. Darryl understood none of this.
He now sat in a small room with a mirrored wall and a metal table before him. Across the table was a very large, very angry man who was the source of Darryl’s pain. The big man was Detective Harker, he had introduced himself ad then proceeded to berate Darryl for the better part of ten minutes. Harker called Darryl things like “lunatic,” “scumbag,” and “Shit-wipe.” Darryl had never heard the last one but the detective said it with vigor.
Harker was a tall, heavily muscled man. His thick neck was stuffed into a dress shirt. Grey-brown stubble coated his hair and face. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to reveal a series of military tattoos. At the moment Harker’s face was beat red with fury.
“I just wanted to feel happy,” Darryl reasoned. Why was this so hard for the cop to appreciate?
“So it made you fuckin happy to slap a poor, defenseless girl around?” Harker bellowed as he slammed his hammer-like fist into the metal table.
Darryl winced, was this ape mentally damaged? What didn’t he understand? Darryl struggled to discern why this was so offensive. He was sad, and empty, but for a few short moments he felt alive. Didn’t he deserve to feel that way?
The door to the interview room opened and the tall red-head walked in. Darryl smiled briefly until he caught her steely glare. Her brow furrowed when their eyes met, her jaw set tightly making the muscles in her face twitch, she quickly transformed from a beautiful goddess into a callous demon.
“This guy killed an old man and beat the shit out of a girl because it made him happy!” Harker said to the woman with a cold laugh. “Believe that one? Sicko was down in the dumps,” the detective said mockingly.
The woman shook her head. “Harker, we have visitors,” she said, motioning towards the door.
Both Darryl and Harker looked towards the entrance. Two tall men in dark suits entered the room. One had dark hair the other was blonde, but for that, the two could have been twins. Darryl immediately thought they were federal agents, he had seen enough movies to know how it worked.
“What the fuck is this?’ Harker groaned as he stood. The pair remained silent and the woman produced, what looked like, an official document. Harker grabbed it from her hand.
“A court order??” he shouted. Darryl smiled inwardly, this sounded good for him.
The blonde suit stepped forward, “We are relieving you of your problem.” he said motioning to Darryl who didn’t appreciate being referred to as a ‘problem.’
“You jokers aren’t relieving us of shit!” Harker barked as he threw the paper back at the two men. “This guy was picked up in our jurisdiction committing multiple violent crimes on our turf! Where the fuck are you from anyway??”
Blonde suit scowled but his partner remained stoic and spoke, “Judge Conrad seems to disagree. You can take the matter up with him but for now, we’re taking your suspect.” Darryl noticed that neither of the men in suits answered Harker’s question about where they were from.
Harker stepped aggressively towards blonde suit, but the man did not back down. “This shit-stain killed an old man and put a waitress so far into a coma that she may never recover, he’s not going anywhere!”, Harker barked.
“She wanted to be an actress,” Darryl wasn’t sure why he said that, but he felt compelled to correct the moronic cop.
Harker spun around like a panther on its prey. Darryl was shocked by the speed of the large cop. The detective shot his arm at Darryl’s grabbing him by the collar and dragged the smaller man across the metal table. Darryl choked as the cop got right in his face. Harker’s eyes were as wide with rage as Darryl’s were with fear.
“Don’t you DARE talk about her, you sick fuck!” spit showered Darryl face as Harker seethed. The cop’s face was now reddened with emotion and the two suits were lurching to Darryl’s defense. It took the two strangers and the lady detective to pry Darryl from Harker’s python-like grasp.
Darryl gasped for air as he fell back into the chair, Harker pushed the other’s away as he straightened his tie and regained his composure. Although calmed, the darkness in Harker’s eye showed his already short fuse was down to a nub.
Rubbing his tender neck Darryl screamed, “this guy is a maniac! I have rights! He assaulted me and you all saw it!!!”
Harker shot him an ice-cold glance that made Darryl’s stomach turn. The female cop jumped between her partner and Darryl putting her hands against her partner’s broad chest, “He’s not worth it,” she said quietly.
Harker sneered, “no, no he’s not.”
Blonde suit cleared his throat, “, as we said, we’ll just take this little problem off your hands before anything else happens.”
With that, the other suit grabbed Darryl roughly and hauled him out of the chair.
“Hey! I thought you guys were here to protect me from these assholes,” Darryl shrieked pointing at Harker.
“Protect you? I’d let that monster tear you limb from limb if it were up to me,” the suit hissed as motioned back at Harker who twisted his neck making a popping sound. “Unfortunately it’s not up to me,” he said as he gave Darryl a hard shove.
Darryl knew that this was bad, the big ape was nuts, but at least he was a cop, Darryl didn’t even know who these suits were or what they wanted with him.
As they walked past Harker and the lady cop, Darryl heard Harker growl at the strangers, “You know this is bullshit.” Darryl finally agreed with the cop, this really was bullshit.
****
Patrick sat in his lab where he had spent nearly every hour of the past month. It was located in a warehouse that was rented by a corporate shell created by Ferguson. Patrick preferred to know as few details as possible. It really didn’t matter, all he cared about was his theory, his research and results.
Leaving his new congregation was easy. They were sad to see the notable young priest leave, but there was no love lost. Patrick promised he would be replaced by someone of equal celebrity.
He then moved into his warehouse-laboratory. Patrick’s files were all transported and made available to him. He spent the first week reviewing all of his past work. Patrick agonized every line.
Once he had combed through all the files and reorganized his thoughts it was time to meet with subjects. Patrick interviewed 25 individuals over the past month. He got very little personal information and never asked where they came from, first names only. Patrick had developed a series of 50 standard questions and created a barrage of visual stimuli. All the results were tracked and recorded. Patrick was close, the conclusions the data foretold were nearly incontrovertible.
Patrick poured over the data and images covering his work space. Graphs and charts were strewn across the large, metal table. X-ray type images hung from the walls. Patrick leaned back in his chair and took in the environment he had created over his countless hours working. He was so close, his work was at a climax and he could taste success.
He heard the main door of the warehouse churn as it opened mechanically. A monitor on the wall showed a familiar black Suburban pulling into the bay. Three men exited the big vehicle, two he recognized and a new subject. Patrick had received notice that he would be meeting with another this evening. This one was of particular interest.
The door to Patrick’s lab swung open and two men in dark suits entered with the stranger between them. Patrick only knew their last names, the blonde was Wagner and the other was Stanley. They both nodded to the priest, Wagner pushed the newcomer into a chair.
The man whined, “Hey, you guys aren’t cops, where the fuck am I?”
Patrick shook his head and rubbed his brow. “Have you fellas bothered to explain the rules to our friend here?”
Stanley’s usually calm demeanor waivered as he cleared his throat, “our friend here is a special case. We were told to stay here during the interview. There are some legal issues that still need to be resolved.”
“I don’t even want to know,” the young priest replied as he continued to rub his forehead.
Patrick turned his attention to the man in the chair as the Stanley and Wagner assumed positions by the door. “Sir, you are only here to answer some questions, then you can be on you way.”
Wagner coughed loudly, Patrick glared at him as Wagner shook his head vehemently. Shrugging Patrick continued, “would you like some water or coffee?”
The man looked sheepishly at the priest then glanced back at the two tall men by the door. He nodded hesitantly, “some coffee.” Patrick glanced at Stanley and nodded, the blonde man exited with a disgusted sigh.
“Now, what’s your name, just your first name?” the priest finally asked.
The man suddenly stared up at Patrick, the visible fear in the stranger’s eyes dissolved, quickly replaced by a chilling disconnect. “I’m Darryl, and we’ll still be here long after you’re gone.”
