Legal bit. I own nothing and have gained no profit from my writing.
- Fontaine Futuristics – Observation Room -
Suchong watched the girl as she cautiously tiptoed into the holding room, for her, entering from the brightly lit corridor, the room would have been pitch black and she kept close to the doorway while her eyes adjusted to the darkness. He watched, hungrily awaiting the moment that each subject became aware of the other.
Behind him Nurse Sylvia slipped into the room, leading their demanding, ill-tempered financier into the observation room.
"That the girl?" Suchong noted the snarl in the man's deep Bronx accent. "Not the one I had in mind."
"Girl that goons bring to Suchong." Suchong snapped, annoyed. "Suchong perform operation. Girl survive Little Sister procedure. This is final bonding between Big Daddy and Little Sister– Suchong must observe and record outcomes." He wanted to make careful note of the interaction of the subjects. He'd had to manipulate his Lot 255 serum to account for the girl's age – it had been a much more refined batch and he had been informed, in no small terms, that it would not be 'cost effective' to reproduce. This would be his one and only opportunity to record any and all results.
"So who is this broad?"
Suchong glared at the glass in front of him, how he was meant to concentrate with these distractions. Sylvia could deal with these trivialities. He waved off handily to the nurse to get on with it.
"A new arrival to Rapture, Mr. Fontaine." Nurse Sylvia told him referring to the girl's notes. "One Miss Gwendolyn Anastasia Hawthorn, twenty years old. Ward of her Aunt and Uncle, Vivian and Charles Humble."
Fontaine raised an eyebrow, maybe the idiot splicers he'd paid to snatch Mary Humble hadn't failed him as completely as he had believed; too bad they'd already been disposed of. He might just still be able to spin this to his advantage.
The nurse continued reeling off medical data, surprisingly Fontaine wasn't interested in the girl's average white blood cell count, her rhesus status, or how her brain had reacted to multiple layers of non-opiate based anesthetic.
"What's she been told about all this?"
The nurse stuttered to a halt in her rambling of the medical jargon that was useless to Fontaine, pursing her lips before composing herself.
"A splicer attack." She pressed her clip board against her bosom. "Life saving surgical procedures."
"Usual bullshit then."
The nurse pulled a face as though she'd just gotten a whiff of dogs mess at his use of profanity. "Real enough to be believed." She re-iterated sniffily.
"And what if she dies here?" Fontaine nodded at the window into the holding room.
"She will not." Suchong snapped vehemently over his shoulder at the man, keeping his eyes on the glass. "Bonding shall be success." His back teeth grinding audibly together.
Fontaine raised an eye brow at the nurse.
"Subdural haematoma," Fontaine glared at the woman silently. "Brain bleed," She translated, quickly understanding the gist of his glaring irritation. "Consequences of her traumatic brain injury." She said quietly with a shrug, avoiding looking at Suchong. "Never woke from the coma."
"Sounds plausible enough." Fontaine turned back to the glass, arms folded, to watch events unfold, a dark smile twisting at the corner of his lips. This was going to be interesting.