Chapter 7

1999

The months wore on and the training not only intensified but more and more was crammed on them at once. Almost everyone was beaten down to the point of not wanting to sneak around on Friday nights. The most anyone was up to was sneaking out for a cigarette or glass of wine on the patio. Their only real time off was Saturday morning for the women and Sunday night for the men.

Nicky knew the reason behind this was to give the sexes as little time to intermingle as possible. She hadn't seen the professor on a personal level in months, but not for lack of trying. Everything happened on this island for a reason. Someone always conveniently interrupted them, or was using their spot already, or one of them was too hurt or tired to do anything physical. She began to give into the Saturday night shenanigans more and more, she knew this was the intended effect, but there was only so much celibacy a person could stand. It wasn't as if the men were unattractive either, for the most part. Sometimes they got to pick their targets, the girls choosing based on how well they did on past performances.

For Halloween they had a special treat planned, the phrasing of which put no one's mind at ease. Finally they told them that they were going to have a 'live fire exercise' where they were really supposed to really drug their targets while out of the site of others. They all had various devices used to employ various toxins on their person or in their rooms.

They all dressed up in costumes and she was told that her target would be a man dressed in black, but not Zorro, which was someone else's target. She was wearing a black satanic looking robe and hood with half of what appeared to be a goblin or green devil. She wore black gloves, boots, and lipstick.

She arrived at the party fashionably late as her status dictated. She tried to hug the sidelines of the party and saw that her costume was beyond conservative, women are such tramps at Halloween. At least now she understood where the trick in trick or treat came from now. But no where there did she see a man dressed in black, she circled the party that consisted of the three rooms and the hall, she check the outside patio and the hedge rows with no luck. She returned for the fifth time to the champagne table and returned to her usual spot in a dark corner when she saw a small note where she had been placing her glass earlier in the evening. On it was a single word, "Gently…" What was he playing at?

"Wow, you're still here?" ask Reina from beside her. Her rendition of Elvira was the next most conservative costume. "So, where is Mr. Hyde, Dr. Jekyll? You might have scared him off with that mask…"

"Your nipple is hanging out and you got the roles backwards…"

"Oh, thanks, you are a Doctor though right," she probed as she adjusted her wardrobe malfunction.

"Nice try. What does this mean?" she handed Reina the note.

"Gently… It means he obviously knows you. It's not easy sharing a wall with you sometimes by the way. What's he dressed as again?"

"It said he'd be in black, but not Zorro."

"Did it say The Man in Black?" she asked.

"Yeah, I think so. Why?"

"Have you never seen the Princes Bride?"

"No, a child prodigy isn't afforded a lot of TV time…"

"It's a character, The Man in Black. I think this means his lying in your bed… there is this scene… oh, never mind. Go, go, go… he's probably unconscious already from boredom."

"Wait, how does he know which room is mine?"

"It's been the only empty one all night would be the first clue… Go!"

It was with much trepidation that she turned the knob to her own room, she felt like she should swing in the window or something after all this time. He was indeed lying there on her bed, which was still made. A single candle was illuminating the room. His eyes were closed and his fingers were intertwined and lying on his stomach. He was dressed in a black swashbucklers outfit along with a mask that covered his hair and face. She slipped inside and silently closed the door behind her and locked it.

She said in French, as this was to be her characters' native tongue, [Forgive me monsieur…]

He cut her off, [What hideous sin have you committed lately?]

[I do not often attend the cinema, I knew not to what you were referring…]

"You are from Bordeaux, yes?" he asked in English with a British accent.

[I am sorry, monsieur. I do not speak English.]

[What are you dressed as mademoiselle? You should come closer, or else you were wrong to lock the door behind you.]

[Monsieur Faust…]

[Ah, a highly successful scholar, but also dissatisfied with his life, and so makes a deal with the devil. He exchanged his soul for unlimited knowledge and worldly pleasures…]

[Quite a scholar yourself, I see. Are you certain about the last part,] she asked walking to the edge of the bed.

[Yes, quite sure… What have we here?] he asked as he raised hem of her robe with the sword that had been at his side.

[My modesty to be sure,] she said as she slipped the robe over her head but careful to keep her mask in place.

[Nothing to be modest about here, you look splendid…] he said as he looked her up and down, she was far slimmer than he had thought and with just her bra and underwear left, there was nothing for her to hide behind except the green rubber mask. She took his sword, noting that it was real, and leaned it against the nightstand. He took her hand that was both cold and sweaty at the same time and pulled her into the bed.

He had pulled her on top of him, but then he was on her somehow. She couldn't keep track of him much less keep up with him. He was ravenous, he was behaving as though they were lovers that had been kept apart far too long. He moved her body around as if intimately familiar with it. She had never seen this kind of intensity in a lover before and she was quickly swept away, like she was in slow motion. [Monsieur, please…]

As he was distracted, now pleasing her, she felt herself reeling. Her head was spinning and it felt like everything was zooming in and out. She wondered for a moment if she had been drugged and then realized that she had stopped breathing sometime ago. She took several deep gasps as she desperately tried to grab the headboard and pulled, trying to reach behind it, where she had a Syrette of morphine taped. [Monsieur, please… enough…please no more…]

He laughed, his breath hot against her skin, but it was a laugh that was all too familiar and suddenly she was struck with the horrifying realization that the man in black was Jason Bourne. No wonder he knew how to turn and flip and move her around, he only wrestled her for a month. She felt like a fool, of course they wouldn't have them practice drugging millionaires. She redoubled her efforts to pull away and felt for the Syrette, but he was faster.

Misunderstanding her statement, he held her legs as he sat backwards, pulling her back down the bed, towards him. [I couldn't agree more Mademoiselle, sorry to torture you so…]

[No, you misunderstand. Please…] but it was too late he was inside her. She looked up at his perfect blue eyes that she hated so much; they stood out against the black mask. There was haughtiness in his eyes that she knew all too well. He knew it was her, he had to. He must have realized the change in her eyes, seen the hatred and realized that she knew now too. He started pouring it on and she couldn't help but respond. She hated herself for liking it, but there was nothing that she could do to stop him. Not only did she move with him, but the series of commands and statements exuding from her mouth shocked even her.

When finally she felt herself nearing climax, she reached up and ripped that stupid mask of his head, he reached for it, to keep it on a second too late. She fumbled with hers; her face and hair were sweaty from being in the rubber mask. She grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him close and whispered in his ear so the bugs couldn't hear, "God, I hate you… Come on you jerk; do it…" He pounded on her with reckless abandon knowing that she would feel it the next day. She felt herself start to spasm and grabbed him by the back of the head with one hand and the cheek with the other. She threw her head back but rolled her eyes down to stare at him. "Now would be a great…" she started to whisper as he came.

"Ssshhh…" he hissed. Not that she kept tabs on him or anything, but he had been stuck on that island for a year with no girlfriend that she knew of and it showed. He threw her legs over his shoulders and pounded on her so hard that she thought that she was going to split in half, but she felt his release and she sighed even as he was still grinding on her. She couldn't remember which language to speak or even what her native language was so she bit her hand, behind the thumb hard.

[I am sorry mademoiselle, but I really must but going…] she felt something pinch her abdomen and suddenly all of her muscles went limp. [I'm sorry, were you looking for that?] he asked smugly as he tossed the Syrette into the waste basket. He went to her nightstand and opened the drawer. He reached underneath and pulled a piece of tape away and took the CD that had been hidden under the drawer. She he no idea what it was, apparently he had been given a mission as well. [I guess I could have just taken it and left, maybe I should have. You weren't quite as fiery as I expected, I mean really, what a disappointment…]

He came over and kissed her cheek mockingly and she whispered, [they'll kill me…] and he looked and saw real horror in her eyes, which pleaded for help at the same time before she passed out.