Spiked Coffee

4

It had been a week since the clone first came alive, and he was making amazing progress. He was already walking by using a cane. And after two more days, Quaritch ditched the cane and walked perfectly fine. Rajian was astounded by his progress. Dr. Wolfe and Parker were pleased. Now Quaritch was in the workout room. His strength was kicking in now. However, he was not as strong as the real Quaritch. Not yet, anyways. Rajian watched as the clone completed fifty push-ups in a minute. But the one problem was that the clone had not spoken a word. Selfridge was not happy about that, obviously. What good would he be if he could not speak?

"I want him to damn talk," the business man stated firmly.

Dr. Wolfe watched the rich man pace back and forth, hands behind his back and a scowl on his face. "Please be patient, sir," the doctor stated. "It might be a while."

Parker paused, staring at the smaller man with a glare. "But he was supposed to talk days ago!" he exclaimed. "How is he going to command the soldiers when he's a mute?"

Dr. Wolfe reached up, rubbing at the base of his neck. "I understand," the doctor stated. "He's just a little slow. He'll talk soon."

"He better," Selfridge grumbled. "I want him a killer, just like the real Quaritch. You understand?"

"Of course."

Quaritch fired his gun, hitting the head off of a dummy. His aim was perfect. The clone took in a breath, standing still. Other soldiers glanced at him. He was just as good as theirs, and he had been born only a week ago. Quaritch loaded his gun, and continued to fire. The clone "killed" every dummy there. He smirked in satisfaction of himself. The hired ex-guns watched the clone colonel.

"Boy, he's a fast learner," whispered one man to one of his friends.

"It's hard to believe he's only a clone," whispered another.

Quaritch could hear their whispers, but not what they were saying. Rajian had his hands covering his ears. The constant bangs of the guns rang in his head. He scowled. The only thing that cleaned that dirty look off his face was when a young skinny girl passed him. Rajian followed her with his eyes. He smirked, recognizing her.

"Hey, Gloria," he called, lifting up his hand. "Lookin' good, girl."

Gloria turned around, a faint blush formed on her cheeks. "Thank you," she called, slinging the gun over her shoulder, and walked off.

He watched her leave, a coy smile on his features. "Boy," he stated, looking towards Quaritch, "I need me some of that."

The clone rolled his eyes, reloading his gun. Only yesterday, Selfridge had explained that he had been under coma for ten years, and that his memory was damaged. That made sense. Quaritch had constant flashbacks of random events. The clone fired his gun, shooting a dummy before him. Rajian grumbled, gripping the side of his head.

"C'mon, Miles," the Indian man called, "can't we go to the workout room?"

Stop bitching, the clone thought, shooting another dummy.

Cotton sprayed, falling to the floor like little cream puffs. Quaritch smirked once more.

I'm pretty damn good at shootin' shit, he thought. As the clone began to fire again, he had a sudden flashback. He saw a male Na'vi attack him. He was inside of some mechanical brute, controlling it, using his hands, arms, and body. The Na'vi smashed the windshield, bits of glass spraying. He was so caught off guard, his aim went off, and he hit the wall with his bullet. Rajian glanced up.

"Hey, you okay?" he inquired, standing up, going over to the clone.

Quaritch blinked, nodding his head. He dropped his gun, letting out a sigh. With one of his hands, he rubbed one of his temples. He placed his gun into his holster, and walked towards one of the doors that showed people the way out of the shooting room.

"Oh, thank you Allah," Rajian praised. "We're done here."

The clone briefly glanced back at the male nurse, shaking his head and partly rolling his eyes. Once Rajian exited the room, the clone tightly shut the door. Quaritch went over to his locker, unlocking it, opening it up and placing his gun inside. He retrieved his physical therapist's clipboard, handing it over to the man. The male nurse smiled, taking the clipboard.

"Thank you," he stated, taking the clipboard.

He reached into his pocket, and the male nurse scribbled on the paper. Quaritch rubbed his tense shoulder. His body did not ache like it had before. He was grateful for that. He closed the locker, and the combination set itself.

"Hey, Miles, wanna get a bite to eat before we pump iron?"

What the colonel had learned over the past week was if he did not agree to something that Rajian wanted, he would bitch and complain until he was blue in the face. Quaritch did not feel like hearing a man smaller than himself complain. There were some days where the clone just wanted to punch the Indian man's lights out. But he had reframed from doing so. After all, this man had been kind to him. He helped him walk again, helped him with so many things that blew a hole in Quaritch's pride, and Rajian took it with a smile.

He was an okay kind of a guy.

Quaritch nodded, reaching up and rubbing his sore neck. Rajian beamed brightly. "Alright," he called, placing his pen in his breast pocket and his clipboard tucked under his arm. "Just let me drop off my clipboard and we'll be on our way."

The clone bobbed his head again.

"You'll be in the eating room?"

He nodded again.

"See you there."

Quaritch nodded, heading his way to the cafeteria. Rajian walked, glancing over his work and what he had written down. Cloning people was an art form to most people, and one of those people was Dr. Wolfe. He could not stand knowing that there might be a flaw with one of his clones. But, so far, the only thing that seemed to be wrong with the clone was that he had not spoken a single word. Rajian knew Selfridge would flip his lid. The male nurse dropped his clipboard off on his desk, and sighed.

He had to get Quaritch to talk. Somehow.

The clone sipped from his coffee cup. Rajian found him in the corner, right near the large thick window that exposed the glory of endless space and the moon of Pandora and the large gas giant next to it. The Indian man found that the clone loved sitting near there. It was odd. From what he had heard, the original Quaritch did not give a crap about such things. Rajian walked over to the clone.

"Hey, Miles, want anything—I'm up," he stated.

The clone glanced up from the corner of his eyes. He held up his empty mug towards the male nurse. Rajian smirked. "Okay," he stated, taking the cup. "Coffee?"

Quaritch nodded.

Rajian walked towards the coffee jug, poring the black liquid into the mug. His fingers ran across the sugar packages, straws, and Tabasco sauce. He took the little red jar, opened it, and pored it into the mug. A woman walked by, pausing briefly to watch Rajian pour the hot sauce into the coffee. He looked up at her, beaming. She glanced at him.

"Sometimes I wonder about you, then I give up."

Rajian chuckled, putting the cap on the small bottle. "That's me," he stated.

She shook her head, walking off. Her frame was flawless, and Rajian could not tear his eyes from her. "I need me some of that," he whispered to himself.

He took a fistful of sugar bags, and grabbed the mug, and walked towards the colonel. He was watching the space clouds swirl in the atmosphere. Rajian placed the mug down next to the clone's scarred hands.

"There you are," Rajian stated, placing the sugar bags on the table.

Quaritch nodded, smirking. He took two bags of sugar, hitting it until all the sugar went to the bottom. He ripped the top open, and pored the sugar into the cup. He picked up his spoon, and stirred the coffee. Rajian took a bagel that was on a plate next to him, and watched. When Quaritch took a sip, he gurgled and spat it back into the mug. He choked, gagging slightly.

"Hey, hey, you okay?" Rajian asked, nibbling at his bagel.

Quaritch coughed, his fist pounding against his chest.

"What's wrong? Don't like the coffee?"

The clone gagged, pounding against his chest, pushing away the cup. He was acting like a fish out of water; gagging and groping for fresh air. His throat burned like fire. Quaritch reached out desperately for Rajian's glass of water and guzzled it down. Both were recieving stares from the others, and silent remarks were being made. Rajian nervously smiled, pounding on the clone's back.

"You okay?" he asked gently.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!" the colonel screamed loudly.

Rajian looked on, his eyes wide. Everyone in the cafeteria looked to the gagging clone. The male nurse then laughed, holding his hands high to the Heavens. "Oh, thank you, Allah!" he cried. "The man can talk!"

Quaritch coughed, clearing his throat. "What did you do to my coffee?" he growled, staring intently at the man before him.

"Does it matter? I got ya to talk."

Quaritch felt his eyes slightly water. He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "What the hell is wrong with ya?" he growled.

"I'm not sure. I've tried my hardest to understand myself."

The clone grumbled something to himself. "Moron."

Selfridge smirked. "It's about time," he stated, his fingers arched.

Dr. Wolfe smiled. "Yes, well, I told you. The sauce must have sparked his brain," he stated. "It would take a while. I promise that he will be just like the real Quaritch."

The business man tapped his finger against the table. "So, when can we start this thing?" he asked.

"How 'bout tomorrow?"

Selfridge smirked. "Perfect."