You're No Specialist
A/N: Hey again! It's me, Mish of the Order, back again with another story. This time, it's a five-part series. :O
Each entry in the series will be published weekly, unless I end up procrastinating. Which is never. (Heh) The chapters are a bit short, but that's just a given with the writing style I'm going to do these in. But on the bright side, it leaves more room for imagination. Anyway, thanks, as always, for reading my stuff. Enjoy!
(Oh, and stay tuned for another chapter next Saturday.)
I had been in the compound for two weeks. I hated the smug, distasteful looks I got from the guards. I hated the cell I was in and how I couldn't lie down for a rest. I hated the food I was served. I hated everything.
"Herr Zemo." I looked up to see a guard pass a card over a scanner. He walked into my containment facility, escorting a scrawny, American kid in a wheelchair.
"You have a visitor." The guard gestured to the kid, who wheeled his chair forward. The kid pulled out a clipboard and a pen. The guard pulled up a table between me and the boy.
The guard nodded to the boy and left the room. The scowl on my face was evident as the boy glanced up at me, raised his eyebrows, and looked back down at his clipboard.
"So, what are you here for? Make it quick, I have other things to do," I demanded.
"Good morning to you too, Mr. Zemo." The kid had a professional air about him. "My name is Benjamin Shelly, and I will be your specialist for the next month or so."
"You don't look old enough to be a specialist," I observed with the same commanding tone.
"No sir, I'm twenty-four. I just received my degree."
"Hmph, you still look like a kid," I pointed out, gesturing to his pre-pubescent face. I was going to get the last word in whether the brat liked it or not. It's just my nature.
"Yes sir. Now let's get on with the evaluation. Have you..." The brat slid a brightly colored deck of cards toward me. "...ever played Uno?"
I scoffed. What kind of an evaluation is this? Does this boy take me for a fool? "You are joking." I pushed the cards away from me.
"No sir, it says right here, 'Uno: Cognition test'." The kid tapped his clipboard with his pen.
"I refuse to participate in such a ludicrous test." I stared at the boy, my distaste obvious.
"Well sir, I'm sorry to hear that." The boy seemed annoyingly sympathetic. "I was sent here to evaluate your behavior and attitude so that you might possibly get moved to a less high-security cell, but since you said no..." he trailed off.
I snapped to attention. "So...you said it's a cognition test?"
I slapped a bright yellow card onto the discard pile. I was hunched over intently, examining the cards in my hands.
"Uno," the bratty kid's voice called out as he gently placed down another yellow card.
I looked back down at my cards. I had five left. I cursed under my breath. I wasn't going to lose to a bratty kid. I examined my cards carefully. After some strategic thinking, I placed down a green card of the same number. I nearly smiled, but I wasn't going to let the kid know that I was enjoying this game. I was only supposed to participate and not cause any disturbance.
A small clack sounded. I looked up. The kid had his fingers around a green card, and it was sitting on top of the discard pile. I cursed under my breath again.
"Well, I think that's all for today." The boy checked a few things off of his clipboard as he addressed me. I scowled and threw the remaining four cards onto the table. The kid collected the cards and placed them in a satchel that hung from one of the wheelchair's arm rests.
"I think the test went well today. Thank you, Mr. Zemo. I look forward to seeing you next week. Until then." The boy nodded to me, and then to the guard who came forward to replace the front panel of my cell. I watched as the brat wheeled his chair out the door and down the hall until I couldn't see him any more.
A/N: So there you have it, the first installment to my five part series! If you have any questions about my OC Ben Shelly, please feel free to ask. Review, PM, whatever. I'll find it and get back to you. I don't bite, honest. Also, it gives me an excuse to have social interaction since I spend most of my time at my desk writing or drawing.
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I'm so lonely.