The Lupus Experiment: Prologue

Prologue

    It was well of over an hour since Josh had been left in the interrogation room. Oh, they attempted to disguise the reality of its station. The walls were a pleasant green, the door wooden, as though from a homey cabin. The sign next to that entry had even titled the camber as ‘Debrief.’ But none of this could shroud the purpose of Josh’s location. He was to be questioned with the most extreme prejudice the Agency could muster. Knowing that, Josh determined that he had to win the first encounter with his adversary. This initial contact would be relatively gentle, a probing of sorts, designed to trick Josh into a false sense of security or the illusion Agency’s desire for his peaceful corporation. Josh suppressed to urge to smile; they knew it would not work, and they would persist with that strategy due to protocol. These government types were always restrained by the particular manner of doing things predetermined by their predecessors and superiors. Far better to be as Josh was: free of oversight and, only more recently, realistic boundaries.

    Josh leaned forward, taking the weight of of his hips and thighs and onto his arms, which now rested on the steel table. That particular amenities of this room failed to align with the attempts of comfort portrayed by the walls and door. It was cold, grey, unadorned, and came with a matching pair of chairs and hand cuffs. Josh turned his head to the right, and gazed at the mirrored glass which covered that particular wall. He could not help but wonder who sat beyond. No doubt their anxiety led them to assume nothing and everything, perhaps they even though him capable of gazing through the mirror and seeing them. Josh had suppress a laugh. Perhaps he could accomplish this, if given enough time to make the necessary adjustments and fine tunings to his corneas. But time was not on his side. Whoever sat on the other side of the glass must have determined that they wren’t going to trigger his impatience. The rather nice door opened, and through it stepped a familiar face.

    Oh, that was clever. They thought to throw him off guard by bringing in someone who already had all the answers. The full purpose of this investigation began to take shape, simply from the presence of room’s newest occupant. They had no real queries, the Agency simply wanted a confession. Particularly, they wanted one that made Josh look insane, dangerous, and the obvious villain. Perhaps he was, to some extent, but he could not let them win. Josh studied the new player. He was a man of hispanic decent, dark both in hair and eye color, and of powerful build. He wore a freshly cleaned, black suit, and he carried a manila folder. Josh could see where this was going, even before the game started.

    The interrogator sat opposite Josh, and quietly began to leaf through the folder, carefully examining each page. After a time, Josh grew tired of watching his eyes move back and forth over whatever writing the sheets contained. He sat back in his chair, and turned once more to look at the mirrored glass. This time, however, he was concerned not with the mystery men behind it, but with the one staring back at him. Weeks of inactivity and sedation had left his body atrophied, hence him needing to shift his wait so as to alleviate the pressure on any particular spot. This lack of muscle mass did not detract from the obvious fitness of his physique, but it did reveal his cheek bone and even his ribs, despite the prisoner issue orange jump suit he wore. 

    Josh’s face was, indeed, testament to recent hardship. In addition to the sunken cheeks, his lips were pale and cracked for lack of moisture. Dark bags were evident beneath his eyes, and his black hair appeared thin and tussled. Then their were his eyes, themselves. Josh had always considered his eyes rather irrelevant to his appearance. They were originally a non interesting brown, neither striking nor particularly deep. But now, they had been altered as a result of the incident. Now, they were green. And not just any green. Josh’s eyes were the kind of green only found on predatory animals, the shade reserved for the hunter, designed to strike terror into its prey. Within those hues lay the wilderness and the creature capable of overcoming it. No wonder the mystery men probably wondered at their potential to see through the glass. 

    After a great interim, the interrogator allowed the pages to drop on to the table, with more noise than was necessary. Josh recognized this as a sign of nervousness. The time had finally come, and the first question broke upon the air, “How the hell are you alive?” Josh momentarily lost control and let loose a laughing snort. Thus the game began, with his opponent revealing his hand! Their desire for a confession was confirmed, and with that Josh could resort to sarcastic innocence. This would, without doubt, make him distasteful in the eyes on the mystery men, but it would also paint a picture of ineptitude and lack of ability. With that achieved, Josh’s capacity for the horrors that he was suspected of would be called into question.

    Josh began his play by expanding his humorous snort into a full chuckle, “It’s good to see you too, Michael.” This response almost made the interrogator moan with frustration. After all, Josh’s relationship with Michael had been along series of his bater and the agent’s response of annoyance. 

    “I’m serious Tulson.” Formality always took precedence with this one. At least he didn’t inset upon being called Agent Hernandez, as was typical. “You should be dead. The injuries you sustained in the fight with Johnson where beyond surviving.”

    “Where they? I wan’t aware that they were that extreme. Then again, I was unconscious for most of the time spent healing.” Oh, the annoyance in the agent’s eyes was laughable. “Please, enlighten me as to how close to the abyss I had the unfortunate fate to tread.” Josh was proud of this move. By forcing Hernandez to reveal the severity of his injuries, the enormity of Josh’s transformation could only be brought into sharper focus.

    Ever the follower of protocol (how Josh rejoiced in his freedom from such restrictions), Hernandez signed and fulfilled his subject’s request, “You had nine broken bones: three ribs, two metacarpals, your femur, the left radius, and both skull and pelvis fractures. The lacerations you suffered were internal as well as external in location and resulted in over two and half liters of blood loss. This resulted in your unconsciousness, a state that was compounded by a major concision. This created a coma that you have been in for the past two weeks.” Josh had to smile, his opponent had recited beautifully. No doubt he had to give both an oral and written report on the incident. But the kicker was still to come.

    Josh pushed for the final nail in doubt’s coffin, “And what is your point?”

    Hernandez now feigned frustration, allowing his voice to rise, “My point is that despite being hurt to the point of no return, your body has almost completely healed in the two weeks since the incident.” There it was. People had escaped death before, but never had anyone shook hand with the Grim Reaper as he had and recovered in the same way most people recovered from a cold. Now doubt could remain in the minds of the mystery men’s now. But crucially, all of the necessary revelation had come from Hernandez, not Josh. 

    It was now time for Josh to have his soliloquy. He could remain sarcastic, as was enjoyable, but the feigning of ignorance was no longer necessary. For added emphases on his opponent’s failure, Josh began with a sustained stream of laughter, “That’s the thing, isn’t it, Michael? Oh sorry, Agent Hernandez. It is still agent right? I mean, its not like their going to promote you after this little interview, are they?” Hernandez turned bright red in fury. Oh, this was just too good.

    Josh allowed another chuckle. “Speaking of you superiors, which ones are on the other side of that glass? Oh, I might be able to see them if a could be bothered, but I rather like the mystery. Just how big of a failure is this debacle is this? I mean for you, Michael, it obviously huge. But what about for the rest of the agency.” Josh sat back, as though in contemplation, “Would it necessitate a general? Oh, at least. I’m almost positive Hunt’s back there.” Michael squirmed uncomfortably. How could it be this easy? “But I suspect it goes a lot higher than just our little group. Perhaps, the Agencies Director is back there. That would be unfortunate for you, wouldn’t it Michael?” The Agent’s knuckles turned white form the clenching of his fists. Josh could keep going, but he risked over playing his hand. Such sloppiness would not play to his advantage. 

    In light of this, he moved on to the primary issue. Hernandez had lost any grip on the situation, and could be made to surrender. “You’ve already admitted to those mighty men beyond the glass that I have endured what no man should have been able to. We, and I’m sure they as well, can agree that this is a sign of a fact that is well known between the lot of us.” Josh leaned forward, staring directly into his opponent’s desperate eyes, “The truth will had to be acknowledged at some point, Michael. Delaying the inevitable will do nothing to prevent it. Just admit what we already know. State the obvious and we can move on.”

    Hernandez’s shoulders slumped, and he lowered his eyes between his feet. Josh allowed a sliver of smile to form. The game was over, and he had won! All that remained was for the shutout to be declared by his opponent. “You are alive because you’re no longer human.”