Chapter Three: Live-Ins
Carly sat, totally embarrassed, as still as a stone.
"Let me through, I say!" A small annoying voice sounded from the back of the strike force. Although she had considered for a moment that these were Institute dogs, it was now obvious that they worked for someone almost as bad.
Almost.
Nevel Papperman waded through the crowd of guns, grunting the whole time, "Where is he? Where is Freddie?"
Carly crawled just a little lower in the bed. This was a horrible nightmare, it had to be.
Nevel panted as he hit the front of the crowd. He took the scene in; half a dozen fully armored military grade officers were pointing their machine guns at a naked teenaged girl.
"Hi, I'm Carly. What're you all doing here?"
Someone coughed. A snicker escaped Nevel, "I don't think we need a strike force to detain a single teenage girl, do you?"
Slowly, the guns lowered. Carly indicated her state of dress, "Some privacy please?"
The officers exchanged dubious looks. Nevel waved them off, "You're not missing that much. Well, she's a bit chubby, but you know what I mean. Nothing to see here."
The team filed out, "Chubby, really?"
He sighed, "You think that's your biggest problem?"
Carly shifted herself. Last night had changed everything. "Why are you here?"
Nevel sighed, "You must have figured out by now that the FBI is interested in the Institute, which means they are interested in Freddie, which means we are interested in you."
He picked her bra off the floor.
Carly turned bright red, "What I do is my private business."
"You have no idea what you are talking about," Nevel took out a piece of paper and a pen, " I need to ask you some questions. Do you know Fredward Benson?"
She gawked, "Seriously? You have to ask?"
"Bureaucrat, babe, I have to ask." His pen clicked.
"Yes, yes I know Freddie." He wrote that down.
"How long?"
Her eyes rolled, "I don't know, several years!"
He wrote that down too.
"Have you had relations with him?"
She blinked, "You found a female he has been chasing since grade school- totally nud- sleeping in his bed!"
He stared blandly, "Beaurocrat."
"Yes, we made sweet animal love last night."
Nevel finished and put his materials away, "Alright, we need to talk."
"Yes, we do. You're going to tell me everything," She interrupted his interjection, "People keep lying to me! Freddie kept me from knowing what happened to him! Griffin manipulated me! Spencer lied about talking to Griffin! They left me in the dark and each of them is probably dead by now! Now what's going on?!"
Nevel clamped his mouth shut, then sat down, "Here's the deal… A few years ago, someone high on the FBI's watch-list started a school. Previously, Kennedy Hammond was a soldier of fortune. He was raised by ex-KGB agents. Kennedy was so successful that he created a group; Los Lobos. He trained them like dogs. The Wolves were insanely aggressive. It was not enough for him to get adults. The manner for training was more effective in teenagers. Think about all those times you've seen teenagers act like beasts. Kennedy Hammond is turning a generation of sex-craving, rock 'n' rollers into a nation of psycho-killers."
At this point, the narrative stopped as Nevel opened Freddie's locker and removed a single bottle of water, "He used his funds to start the Institute. I am not sure exactly what he wants, but imagine what he could do with a hundred psychotic killer teenaged boys."
Carly shuddered, "What do you want from me?"
"Sex," She blanched, Nevel held up a pacifying hand, "Not me! We want to understand how you're still in one piece."
Her eyebrow flew up, "You're not looking real close, Nevel." Carly shifted painfully. The spot between her legs was sending more pain to her brain than pleasure.
He shook his head, "Yes, I am. You don't understand; these kids are super-repressed, they have more pent up sexual energy than is safe for a male population. You should be a bloody heap. Freddie should have raped you within an inch of your life- tortured you slowly to prove his complete dominance. That's how dogs are trained- to display dominance. Over one another, over 'bitches' over people. The training is intense, all-enclusive, and, most importantly, it never ever seems to fail. A dog will always be a bloody dog. Somehow, you managed to get through all the training, all the brainwashing, and bring back a small piece of the Freddie that was. You're nothing short of a goddess for doing this. You have no clue what you've accomplished."
Carly thought back to her night with Freddie. It had been hard on her; physically, emotionally, sexually. Still, under all the pain and torment he had inflicted on her... there was something... else... a cry for help? No... more like... a love song.
It was like Freddie was whispering, "I love you, I love you, I love you," the whole time, it was just hard to hear over his howling. When he was with her, the Institute no longer had a hold on him.
She blinked, "I can't be responsible for what happens. This thing with Freddie could have been a fluke. He could walk through that door, the very beast you fear, and kill us both bloody. He has it in him somewhere."
Nevel sighed, "You're our only hope."