On day four, Max once again got his daily injection of
the drug. It brought instant relief to him and, once
again, the doctor took more notes on his condition.
Outside of the factory, the chief, 99 and a dozen CONTROL agents were ready to storm the complex. The Chief stood in front of his men, splitting them off to search the factory.
"You five, go in that direction, you five, that direction and you two, come with agent 99 and me.
Everyone parted ways and quickly moved into position.
Muller walked in to see how the doctor was progressing.
"Ok Doc, let's say we put an end to Mr. Smart so I can get out of here," Muller commented as he looked at his watch.
The doctor wrote down the last of the notes and closed his binder. "That should about do it, except for one thing -- going through withdrawals." The doctor looked down at Max in his drugged-out stupor. "This has been a fascinating study, I must say. Too bad we need to dispose of him; I would have liked to have studied him on the withdrawal process, once the drug is no longer administered to someone that is addicted to it."
"Forget it, Doc. Time's up," Muller said, as he pulled up a chair next to Max, to watch him die. "So, is this gonna be painful?"
"Right now he's in a calm existence. But as soon as I inject the overdose, a feeling of fire will race through his entire nervous system, which will cause convulsions and excruciating pain. His lungs will seize, causing him to gasp for air. A feeling similar to drowning. His heart will pound with such force, it will feel as if it's going to rip through his chest. Is that painful enough for you?"
Muller smiled as he sat back in the chair satisfied, "Get on with it, then."
The doctor shrugged with disgust and went over to fill the syringe with a deadly dose of PCP.
After checking every room in the area, the Chief and 99 spotted a door at the end of the corridor.
"Let's check in there," he said.
The room was dark except for a small window looking into another room.
The Chief adjusted his eyes, peered through the one-way glass window in the room, and saw Max strapped down, with the doctor holding a needle in front of him.
"He's in there! Quick, bust that door down!" the Chief commanded his agents.
Just as the doctor was ready to insert the needle, the door burst open. CONRTOL agents were ready with their guns drawn and pointed right at Muller and the doctor.
"Drop that needle!" the Chief yelled.
But before the doctor could put it down, Muller grabbed it out of his hand, and quickly inserted it into Max's arm. Muller was immediately shot, dropping to the ground before administering the fatal dosage.
99 rushed over to Max and gently pulled the needle from his arm. Max slowly straightened up, but his eyes didn't seem to focus on anything.
"Oh God, Max," 99 whispered harshly, looking down the length of Max's body. It seemed as though he was nothing more than a mass of purple bruises, welts, and cuts on his chest and arms. "Oh Max," 99 repeated softly, still shocked at seeing him so abused. It was while 99 was uniting with him that Max woke a little, looking up at her through drug- hazed eyes.
"Who isss..."he asked, the drugs slurring his speech.
"It's 99, Max!" she answered, surprised once again that Max, looking as bad as he was, could speak.
"99?" Max asked, trying to sift through the confusion and haze, for the name.
"Yes, Max. You're safe now. Don't try to talk," 99 reassured him, as she untied the other restraint.
"99," he said softly, cutting 99 short. "Sorry, 99," Max mumbled, his head falling against her shoulder "can't ... stay awake ... anymore ...," Max trailed off, finally falling into 99's open arms.
Later that afternoon, 99 stared endlessly at the floor while waiting on any word about Max . The Chief sat with her in the waiting room of the CONTROL hospital. It had been about two hours since they brought Max in, when a doctor appeared from behind the door. Both 99 and the Chief jumped up from the couch. The CONTROL doctor walked in, holding the notebook that was used to document Max's condition for the last four days.
"Chief, 99,'' the doctor greeted them. "... considering everything Agent 86 has been through, he's lucky to be alive." The doctor looked at his chart. "He's dehydrated, has a fractured finger, and his body has taken quite a beating. But, ... he'll heal."
99 and the Chief both gave a smile of relief. The doctor continued on with his diagnosis.
"But he's not out of the woods, yet," he said, opening the notebook. "This is a documented record from the KAOS doctor, while giving the PCP drug to 86 for the last four days. From what I've read, this drug is extremely dangerous and very addictive. I'm afraid his body is going to start craving it very soon. When he doesn't get it, he'll start going through withdrawals. A rather unpleasant situation to have to go through."
"What can be done for him, doctor?" 99 asked with concern.
"We are trying to learn as much about this drug as possible, and this notebook will help us. So, we can make him as comfortable as possible, but his body has to go through the process of ridding itself from the drug. It's gonna be a rough go for him for the next couple of days."
"Can we see him?" the Chief asked.
"I think that would be ok -- he's awake now. He might be a bit irritable, but given the circumstances, that's to be expected."
99 and the Chief came into Max's room. Max lay quietly in the bed, staring at the ceiling. His expression was impassive. 99 looked down on him, watching for a more lively appearance on his face. He looked slightly different than the man she was used to seeing.
"Max, how are you feeling?" 99 asked quietly.
Max snapped out of his trance and struggled to sit up. "I'm ... doing ok," he said, wincing from the pain.
"Max, we destroyed the KAOS drug lab. This drug will not hit the streets as KAOS intended. We confiscated a few samples of the stuff for research, however."
This caught Max's attention, "A few samples?"
They are in the CONTROL lab. We are interested in how this drug is manufactured.
Max cringed as a wave of pain passed through his body. 99 quickly comforted him by holding his hand.
"We should go now, so you can rest," the Chief instructed, glancing over at 99. "Chief, I'd like to stay awhile, if that's ok?" 99 pleaded.
"It's ok, Chief. I'd like her to stay," Max insisted.
"Alright, but not too long. I'll see you in the morning."
Max and 99 talked for about an hour. Max made it look like he was focused on what 99 was saying, but his thoughts were elsewhere.
As the time for Max's dose came and passed, he mostly just felt the craving for it. However, as the evening wore on, he started getting agitated. His pulse went up slightly, and he started to feel a dull ache in the muscles of his back and shoulders. His food came, and was placed in front of him. Max didn't touch it; his mind was on the CONTROL lab, and the drug samples.
"Max, you have to eat to get your strength back," 99 appealed to him.
"I'm not hungry, 99," Max said, as he pushed the plate away.
99, being persistent, reached for the Jell-O and held it in front of him.
"99, please. Not right now," Max insisted, as he pushed it away once more.
"Max, I won't take 'no' for an answer," 99 said, as she spooned out some of the Jell-O to try and feed him.
"I said NO!"
With that, Max slapped the Jell-O cup out of her hand. It flew across the room, and into the wall. A bit surprised by his actions, 99 looked at Max, "I'm sorry, Max. I just wanted ..."
"No, 99. I'm sorry. It's not your fault. It's just that ... I'm tired, and I need to rest. Maybe you should go home now; you must be tired, too, after these last couple of days. I'll see you tomorrow, ok?" Max said, as he managed to squeak out a half-hearted smile.
"Alright, Max. I'll see you in the morning. You call the nurse if you need anything." Max nodded as 99 squeezed his hand, then left.
99 left none too soon as Max began to shake from the withdrawal. Fire was racing through his veins and behind his eyes. He had to get to the CONTROL lab to find the drug. He needed just a small amount to get him through the night, he thought. Max quietly slipped out of bed and checked out the door. The corridor was clear, and all was quiet. He went to the closet and retrieved his pants and shirt. He slipped out of his room, unnoticed, and down the corridor towards the lab. Once inside, he began to search drawers and cabinets for any sign of the drug. He remembered it to be a brownish liquid, but didn't see anything like that around the room. After checking just about every place, Max found a tall metal locker that had a padlock on it. He yanked on the lock and exhaled a sigh of desperation. Looking around, Max found a metal pipe that he could use to slip between the lock and the cabinet, to break it open. With one quick twist, the lock stayed in tact, but the metal door was tweaked. It was
just enough for Max to get the pipe in and wrench the door open even more so that he could get his hand inside. Max's hand felt a small box, and pulled it out. It was the samples of the PCP drug taken from the KAOS lab. Opening the box, he found several baggies of small white capsules. Max figured that this was the form KAOS was going to sell on the street. Even though the capsules were not as fast-acting as the injection, he wasn't about to be picky. He opened one of the bags and dumped a single white capsule into his hand. Holding it for a moment, his pain overruled his judgement, and he popped it into his mouth and swallowed. He went back into the cabinet and grabbed as many bags of capsules as he could stuff into his pockets. Just as he was ready to return back to his room, a flashlight caught him in the eye.
"Hold it right there! Who are you, and what are you doing in here?" asked the CONTROL security guard.
Max began to panic, and tried to think of something fast.
"I ... I'm agent 86. I heard a noise ... so I came to investigate."
The security guard flipped on the light to find a disheveled Max standing in front of the bent metal door of the cabinet.
"Is that so? ... where's your ID?"
Max knew he had no ID on him, but checked as if he did have it.
"I must have left it back in my office. If you'll just follow me ..."
The guard got immediately suspicious and reached for his gun.
"Alright, I don't know who you are, but you're in a lot of trouble, buddy." The guard pointed his gun at Max and motioned him to move. "Let's go."
The drug started to kick in, and Max stopped as a wave of dizziness hit him.
"I said 'let's go'," demanded the guard, as he prodded Max with his gun.
Max could feel the clouds forming in his head. He blinked his eyes, and tried to shake it loose.
"Don't think I won't shoot, now. I said 'lets go'!" The guard shoved his gun into Max's side.
A sudden flashback brought Max back to the KAOS lab where he was slammed with images of abuse to his body by the doctor and Muller. Max blinked excessively, trying to distinguish reality from nightmare.
Max turned and quickly, grabbing the gun by the barrel. A struggle between the guard and Max ensued. Max's strength was too much for the guard, as he turned the gun around and shoved it into the stomach of the guard. The gun went off and the guard slumped to the ground. Max knew he needed to get out of there fast, before more security showed up. He grabbed the gun from the floor, along with the guard's wallet. He knew he needed an ID to scan to leave the building. Max quickly and quietly made his way out of the CONTROL hospital and into the street. For more than an hour, Max wandered the streets of Washington, ducking and hiding from any kind of search parties that the Chief had put out for him. Max somehow managed to elude everyone, and made it outside of the city. Needing shelter, he came upon a rundown motel, just outside the city limits. He stumbled up to the front desk, banged on the bell, and waited until the manager came in.
"Ok, ok! Stop banging on that bell. I hear you."
"I need a room," Max requested.
"Of course you do. Why else would you be here?"
Max opened the guard's wallet and threw down forty dollars. "How many days will that buy me?" he asked.
"Four days. It's ten bucks a night," the manager explained.
"Give me a key," Max ordered
The manager reached over and handed Max a key. "Room 19. End of the hall, on the left."
Max stumbled down the hall towards the room.
"No visitors after 10 p.m.," the manager yelled down to him.
Max gave no response, as he lost his balance and fell against the wall.
The manager shook his head. "Nothing but bums. I gotta get out of this business," he said, as he disappeared behind the curtain to his room. Max succeeded to make it to the room, and collapsed in the overstuffed armchair. He felt somewhat comforted now. At least he had a place to stay while he tried to survive his ordeal. He would spend the next two days all alone with his little white friends. Not having any idea of their potency, Max was unable to regulate the timing of his pill-popping. He would rise and fall like a rollercoaster, as he blew through the pills rather quickly. Their addictive nature would cause him to use more than he needed, and his last remaining batch sent him reeling. He was helpless to fight the effects that the pills had on him. He was now deeper under their spell than he could've imagined.
To be continued ...
__________________________________________________
Outside of the factory, the chief, 99 and a dozen CONTROL agents were ready to storm the complex. The Chief stood in front of his men, splitting them off to search the factory.
"You five, go in that direction, you five, that direction and you two, come with agent 99 and me.
Everyone parted ways and quickly moved into position.
Muller walked in to see how the doctor was progressing.
"Ok Doc, let's say we put an end to Mr. Smart so I can get out of here," Muller commented as he looked at his watch.
The doctor wrote down the last of the notes and closed his binder. "That should about do it, except for one thing -- going through withdrawals." The doctor looked down at Max in his drugged-out stupor. "This has been a fascinating study, I must say. Too bad we need to dispose of him; I would have liked to have studied him on the withdrawal process, once the drug is no longer administered to someone that is addicted to it."
"Forget it, Doc. Time's up," Muller said, as he pulled up a chair next to Max, to watch him die. "So, is this gonna be painful?"
"Right now he's in a calm existence. But as soon as I inject the overdose, a feeling of fire will race through his entire nervous system, which will cause convulsions and excruciating pain. His lungs will seize, causing him to gasp for air. A feeling similar to drowning. His heart will pound with such force, it will feel as if it's going to rip through his chest. Is that painful enough for you?"
Muller smiled as he sat back in the chair satisfied, "Get on with it, then."
The doctor shrugged with disgust and went over to fill the syringe with a deadly dose of PCP.
After checking every room in the area, the Chief and 99 spotted a door at the end of the corridor.
"Let's check in there," he said.
The room was dark except for a small window looking into another room.
The Chief adjusted his eyes, peered through the one-way glass window in the room, and saw Max strapped down, with the doctor holding a needle in front of him.
"He's in there! Quick, bust that door down!" the Chief commanded his agents.
Just as the doctor was ready to insert the needle, the door burst open. CONRTOL agents were ready with their guns drawn and pointed right at Muller and the doctor.
"Drop that needle!" the Chief yelled.
But before the doctor could put it down, Muller grabbed it out of his hand, and quickly inserted it into Max's arm. Muller was immediately shot, dropping to the ground before administering the fatal dosage.
99 rushed over to Max and gently pulled the needle from his arm. Max slowly straightened up, but his eyes didn't seem to focus on anything.
"Oh God, Max," 99 whispered harshly, looking down the length of Max's body. It seemed as though he was nothing more than a mass of purple bruises, welts, and cuts on his chest and arms. "Oh Max," 99 repeated softly, still shocked at seeing him so abused. It was while 99 was uniting with him that Max woke a little, looking up at her through drug- hazed eyes.
"Who isss..."he asked, the drugs slurring his speech.
"It's 99, Max!" she answered, surprised once again that Max, looking as bad as he was, could speak.
"99?" Max asked, trying to sift through the confusion and haze, for the name.
"Yes, Max. You're safe now. Don't try to talk," 99 reassured him, as she untied the other restraint.
"99," he said softly, cutting 99 short. "Sorry, 99," Max mumbled, his head falling against her shoulder "can't ... stay awake ... anymore ...," Max trailed off, finally falling into 99's open arms.
Later that afternoon, 99 stared endlessly at the floor while waiting on any word about Max . The Chief sat with her in the waiting room of the CONTROL hospital. It had been about two hours since they brought Max in, when a doctor appeared from behind the door. Both 99 and the Chief jumped up from the couch. The CONTROL doctor walked in, holding the notebook that was used to document Max's condition for the last four days.
"Chief, 99,'' the doctor greeted them. "... considering everything Agent 86 has been through, he's lucky to be alive." The doctor looked at his chart. "He's dehydrated, has a fractured finger, and his body has taken quite a beating. But, ... he'll heal."
99 and the Chief both gave a smile of relief. The doctor continued on with his diagnosis.
"But he's not out of the woods, yet," he said, opening the notebook. "This is a documented record from the KAOS doctor, while giving the PCP drug to 86 for the last four days. From what I've read, this drug is extremely dangerous and very addictive. I'm afraid his body is going to start craving it very soon. When he doesn't get it, he'll start going through withdrawals. A rather unpleasant situation to have to go through."
"What can be done for him, doctor?" 99 asked with concern.
"We are trying to learn as much about this drug as possible, and this notebook will help us. So, we can make him as comfortable as possible, but his body has to go through the process of ridding itself from the drug. It's gonna be a rough go for him for the next couple of days."
"Can we see him?" the Chief asked.
"I think that would be ok -- he's awake now. He might be a bit irritable, but given the circumstances, that's to be expected."
99 and the Chief came into Max's room. Max lay quietly in the bed, staring at the ceiling. His expression was impassive. 99 looked down on him, watching for a more lively appearance on his face. He looked slightly different than the man she was used to seeing.
"Max, how are you feeling?" 99 asked quietly.
Max snapped out of his trance and struggled to sit up. "I'm ... doing ok," he said, wincing from the pain.
"Max, we destroyed the KAOS drug lab. This drug will not hit the streets as KAOS intended. We confiscated a few samples of the stuff for research, however."
This caught Max's attention, "A few samples?"
They are in the CONTROL lab. We are interested in how this drug is manufactured.
Max cringed as a wave of pain passed through his body. 99 quickly comforted him by holding his hand.
"We should go now, so you can rest," the Chief instructed, glancing over at 99. "Chief, I'd like to stay awhile, if that's ok?" 99 pleaded.
"It's ok, Chief. I'd like her to stay," Max insisted.
"Alright, but not too long. I'll see you in the morning."
Max and 99 talked for about an hour. Max made it look like he was focused on what 99 was saying, but his thoughts were elsewhere.
As the time for Max's dose came and passed, he mostly just felt the craving for it. However, as the evening wore on, he started getting agitated. His pulse went up slightly, and he started to feel a dull ache in the muscles of his back and shoulders. His food came, and was placed in front of him. Max didn't touch it; his mind was on the CONTROL lab, and the drug samples.
"Max, you have to eat to get your strength back," 99 appealed to him.
"I'm not hungry, 99," Max said, as he pushed the plate away.
99, being persistent, reached for the Jell-O and held it in front of him.
"99, please. Not right now," Max insisted, as he pushed it away once more.
"Max, I won't take 'no' for an answer," 99 said, as she spooned out some of the Jell-O to try and feed him.
"I said NO!"
With that, Max slapped the Jell-O cup out of her hand. It flew across the room, and into the wall. A bit surprised by his actions, 99 looked at Max, "I'm sorry, Max. I just wanted ..."
"No, 99. I'm sorry. It's not your fault. It's just that ... I'm tired, and I need to rest. Maybe you should go home now; you must be tired, too, after these last couple of days. I'll see you tomorrow, ok?" Max said, as he managed to squeak out a half-hearted smile.
"Alright, Max. I'll see you in the morning. You call the nurse if you need anything." Max nodded as 99 squeezed his hand, then left.
99 left none too soon as Max began to shake from the withdrawal. Fire was racing through his veins and behind his eyes. He had to get to the CONTROL lab to find the drug. He needed just a small amount to get him through the night, he thought. Max quietly slipped out of bed and checked out the door. The corridor was clear, and all was quiet. He went to the closet and retrieved his pants and shirt. He slipped out of his room, unnoticed, and down the corridor towards the lab. Once inside, he began to search drawers and cabinets for any sign of the drug. He remembered it to be a brownish liquid, but didn't see anything like that around the room. After checking just about every place, Max found a tall metal locker that had a padlock on it. He yanked on the lock and exhaled a sigh of desperation. Looking around, Max found a metal pipe that he could use to slip between the lock and the cabinet, to break it open. With one quick twist, the lock stayed in tact, but the metal door was tweaked. It was
just enough for Max to get the pipe in and wrench the door open even more so that he could get his hand inside. Max's hand felt a small box, and pulled it out. It was the samples of the PCP drug taken from the KAOS lab. Opening the box, he found several baggies of small white capsules. Max figured that this was the form KAOS was going to sell on the street. Even though the capsules were not as fast-acting as the injection, he wasn't about to be picky. He opened one of the bags and dumped a single white capsule into his hand. Holding it for a moment, his pain overruled his judgement, and he popped it into his mouth and swallowed. He went back into the cabinet and grabbed as many bags of capsules as he could stuff into his pockets. Just as he was ready to return back to his room, a flashlight caught him in the eye.
"Hold it right there! Who are you, and what are you doing in here?" asked the CONTROL security guard.
Max began to panic, and tried to think of something fast.
"I ... I'm agent 86. I heard a noise ... so I came to investigate."
The security guard flipped on the light to find a disheveled Max standing in front of the bent metal door of the cabinet.
"Is that so? ... where's your ID?"
Max knew he had no ID on him, but checked as if he did have it.
"I must have left it back in my office. If you'll just follow me ..."
The guard got immediately suspicious and reached for his gun.
"Alright, I don't know who you are, but you're in a lot of trouble, buddy." The guard pointed his gun at Max and motioned him to move. "Let's go."
The drug started to kick in, and Max stopped as a wave of dizziness hit him.
"I said 'let's go'," demanded the guard, as he prodded Max with his gun.
Max could feel the clouds forming in his head. He blinked his eyes, and tried to shake it loose.
"Don't think I won't shoot, now. I said 'lets go'!" The guard shoved his gun into Max's side.
A sudden flashback brought Max back to the KAOS lab where he was slammed with images of abuse to his body by the doctor and Muller. Max blinked excessively, trying to distinguish reality from nightmare.
Max turned and quickly, grabbing the gun by the barrel. A struggle between the guard and Max ensued. Max's strength was too much for the guard, as he turned the gun around and shoved it into the stomach of the guard. The gun went off and the guard slumped to the ground. Max knew he needed to get out of there fast, before more security showed up. He grabbed the gun from the floor, along with the guard's wallet. He knew he needed an ID to scan to leave the building. Max quickly and quietly made his way out of the CONTROL hospital and into the street. For more than an hour, Max wandered the streets of Washington, ducking and hiding from any kind of search parties that the Chief had put out for him. Max somehow managed to elude everyone, and made it outside of the city. Needing shelter, he came upon a rundown motel, just outside the city limits. He stumbled up to the front desk, banged on the bell, and waited until the manager came in.
"Ok, ok! Stop banging on that bell. I hear you."
"I need a room," Max requested.
"Of course you do. Why else would you be here?"
Max opened the guard's wallet and threw down forty dollars. "How many days will that buy me?" he asked.
"Four days. It's ten bucks a night," the manager explained.
"Give me a key," Max ordered
The manager reached over and handed Max a key. "Room 19. End of the hall, on the left."
Max stumbled down the hall towards the room.
"No visitors after 10 p.m.," the manager yelled down to him.
Max gave no response, as he lost his balance and fell against the wall.
The manager shook his head. "Nothing but bums. I gotta get out of this business," he said, as he disappeared behind the curtain to his room. Max succeeded to make it to the room, and collapsed in the overstuffed armchair. He felt somewhat comforted now. At least he had a place to stay while he tried to survive his ordeal. He would spend the next two days all alone with his little white friends. Not having any idea of their potency, Max was unable to regulate the timing of his pill-popping. He would rise and fall like a rollercoaster, as he blew through the pills rather quickly. Their addictive nature would cause him to use more than he needed, and his last remaining batch sent him reeling. He was helpless to fight the effects that the pills had on him. He was now deeper under their spell than he could've imagined.
To be continued ...
__________________________________________________