A group of large men had passed Agent Dioxide and Gershwin. With reluctant acknowledgement, he knew what was going to happen. 

The [i]‘motivation’[/i] team was a sinister but effective measure in quite literally getting the powers to work on the most bare, physical level. These heartless men get paid with benefits for their striking efficiencies in [i]’persuasion’[/i] while some seemed to somewhat enjoy torturing defenceless victims. Agent Caits and Agent Dioxide have both had to call them in, orders from Big Boss. Hypocritical, heartless, immoral, but orders were orders.

[b]…[/b]

Everything electric was going haywire around them. People rose from their chairs to look around. Crowds and busy men would stop dead in their tracks to observe what was going on. Some moved along as if they had experienced the like before. There was no need for confirmation; Gershwin knew: 

[right] ‘Cody! Where’s Cody!?’ [/right]

‘I… don’t know.’

[right] ‘What do you mean “you don’t know”? What are you people doing to him? [/right]

‘You… can’t help him.’

[right] ‘You people are monsters!’ [/right] 

Gershwin had to go find him, save him, stop whatever was happening to him. Even now, far away from their floor, the whole building seemed to vibrate, echoing Cody’s screams of pain. She jolted to the side, hoping to run past Agent Dioxide.

Agent Dioxide caught her by the arm, holding her back while he pulled out a case. With his one free hand, he deftly opened its lid to pull out a fabric, coated with chloroform. Anaesthesia via needle was avoided to prevent her abilities activating. He had always taken this precaution ever since caretaker duty. If he were to let her go, she would be shot down on sight by the motivation team, where upon she would come back from the dead and kill literally everyone here. This was for her own good. 

Gershwin had been pulling on her arm, struggling effortless to break free, when a fabric came covering her mouth and nose. Her exertion exhausted her, and her heavy respiration led to huge inhalation. Soon, she passed out, taken back to Cell 29. She will not wake for another few hours. Everything’s going wrong.

‘Fucking hell…’

[hr]

[i] In Big Boss’ office [/i]

[right]Date and Time: 10/03/2016 – 1000 [/right]

Big Boss did not like having to ask people to sit down – precious seconds and neurons wasted for such a ridiculous gesture. Agent Caits knew to knock, enter, and sit immediately. 

‘You are responsible for your Subject as Caretaker. So I am putting the blame on you for his escape. You are privileged to know that I have not decided to fire you on the basis on you having to email me on what to do. 

I guess it can’t be helped – your performances and profile statistics were always so… [u]mediocre[/u]. Five attempts to capture Subject 15, Six on Subject 16, and you failed to capture 14 and 17 yourself. 

I am glad that [b][i]it[/i][/b] was tortured. Our surveillance cameras have learnt so much from him now. His wounds and scars may heal, but he will always know – that doubt in the back of his mind – that the pain will come back for him.’

Big Boss straightened himself in his chair, now facing Agent Caits. His towering, hulking frame hovering menacingly over her, his arms and chest foreboding an emanation of hidden, surging strength, and rested on his torso, a head donning a face unforgiving, yet methodical – furious, but collected. 

‘I watched you watch him the entire duration. Did you enjoy the show? Did you feel sorry and pity for him – itching to stop the motivators? Do you not agree with our methods?

Where does your allegiance lie, Caitlynn Dashwin – to us, or [b][i]them[/i][/b]?’