Reaver's Servants
Side Effects Include…
Reaver watched as the deliverymen piled box after box in front of his doorstep. The crates seemed to pile up as Reaver crossed his arms with a disapproving look. "One group of peasants dies from severe blood loss and all of a sudden everyone panics. They knew the risks involved when they signed the contracts." He mumbled, as the delivery man held up a clipboard for Reaver to sign.
"Probably for the best, Mr. Reaver; I don't think the world is ready for an automatic back scratching machine just yet." said the delivery man, trying not to sound sarcastic.
"You're probably right. But still, after that little fiasco, no one will sign up for product testing at my factories." said Reaver, as he signed the clipboard. After one of the machines went haywire, Reaver was not only left with a factory floor full of dismembered workers, but little to no "volunteers" to test his products. It didn't help much that the Queen banned him from using human test subjects around the factories until the mess was cleaned up.
"It'll be a while before the Queen lifts your ban. How will you test these new tonics?" asked the deliveryman.
Reaver rubbed his chin and looked around his property. "Oh, Reaver Industries always finds a way, my boy." said Reaver, as the deliveryman and his crew left. Reaver walked inside and looked around. He turned his head a few times and watched the servants go about their chores. Reaver's eyes widened and he grinned evilly. "We always find a way…"
That evening, Reaver called all his servants to the dining room and told them to sit down. "Good news, my doves! You all get to help me better Albion!" he said, wearing a lab coat with his goggles over his eyes. Looking like a true mad scientist, Reaver passed out the red bottles to each servant. "The boys in research and development call this tonic 'Cure-All'. It's supposed to…well, the name says it all."
Miss Sarah took the cap off her bottle and sniffed it. "Why does it smell like liquor?" she asked softly.
"The original smell made people gag, something about smelling like chicken blood and fear. So, we added liquor to the mix to make people more comfortable." said Reaver, in a matter-of-fact manner.
"What does fear smell like?" Willa whispered to Beryl, who just shrugged.
"Alright, each of you has a 'cure-all'. So, run along and get your chores done. I will be around to observe you shortly." Reaver picked up his clipboard and pen and walked away. The servants shrugged and picked up their respective bottles. Each servant grabbed their bottle and slowly sipped their drinks.
Barry cringed and gasped loudly as he covered his mouth. "Oh, that tastes awful…" he gasped. Miss Sarah wiped her mouth off on her apron as she stood up, cringing along with the other servants. Reaver watched the servants disperse. Deciding to watch from a good distance, Reaver took out his trusty pen and sat on the top stair, where he assumed he could safely watch the show.
Willa took a few more sips and started dusting the piano in the foyer. "You know, once you get past the taste of chicken and liquor, it's not half bad." She said, to herself. "What do you think?" she looked down at Reavie, who had made herself comfortable on the piano bench.
"It doesn't matter what I think, just follow the sound of the pixies." said Reavie, as the room started to swirl into a whirlwind of colors.
Willa's eyes widened and she looked around. The walls looked like they were melting and she just stood there. "Hey, Reavie…why is the house melting?" she asked.
"That's a silly question. Why not ask the oven? He's pretty smart." said Reavie.
Reaver watched as Willa picked up Reavie and held her in front of her. Willa looked as if she was in a trance. Reaver walked up to her and waved his hand in front of her face. "Willa?" he nudged Willa, only making her loosen her grip on the cat, making Reavie plop down on the floor.
"You're right, Reavie…the house must be…'cleaned'…" said Willa, not blinking. Reaver poked her with his index finger. She didn't move. He picked up his clipboard and started writing.
Reaver left Willa and went to find Rosie, who was supposed to be helping Beryl clean up the study. He didn't find her there. He did, however, find her hunched over a vase with her head inside of it. "Rosie, what are you doing to my valuable vase?" Reaver asked, tapping his clipboard.
Rosie lifted her head up and wiped her mouth. "I'm sorry, Mr. Reaver…I'll clean it…as soon as I'm done." She whimpered. Before Reaver could ask, Rosie made a funny face stuck her head inside the vase. Reaver heard very horrible sounds coming from inside.
Rosie lifted her head back up and hugged the vase tightly. "How…long has that been happening?" Reaver asked.
"Probably about a few minutes after drinking that cure-all. I think I just vomited lunch from three days ago…" Rosie whined. Reaver knelt down but quickly shot back up when Rosie started vomiting again. He cringed at the sounds Rosie made. "Oh by the gods, make it stop!" she screamed from inside the vase.
Leaving Rosie curled in a fetal position on the study floor (and making a mental note to throw out that vase), Reaver went to find Beryl. "Beryl?" he shouted in a sing-song manner. "Beryl, where are you?" he shouted, as he went up the stairs. He walked to the hallway, and saw his bedroom doorslightly ajar.
"She had better not be in my room." Reaver grumbled, as he slowly walked to his room. He pushed the door open slightly and saw Beryl, curled up in a ball in the middle of his room. "Beryl, what are you doing in my room?" he shouted.
Beryl looked up at him, crying. "Mr. Reaver, I didn't mean to stain your perfect sheets…" she whimpered.
"You did what?" he asked, in a shocked manner.
Beryl stood up and hugged the sheets closely. All of a sudden, she ripped them apart. "You think that just because you…" her anger made the room hotter. "…you have a lot of fancy things that you're better than me?!" she screeched.
"Well, yes…but what is this all about?" asked Reaver, backing up.
Beryl smiled a big cheery smile, which really scared Reaver. "Mr. Reaver, it's such a beautiful day! Why don't we go on a picnic? I'll have Miss Sarah make us a nice, lovely lunch and we can spend the day in the happy sunlight!" she said, as she danced around the room. "I'll just sew these up real quick…" Beryl's new sunny demeanor wasn't as funny as Reaver had hoped it would be. It was actually quite scary.
"Alright Beryl, now calm down, you're starting to scare me a little." said Reaver.
"Scare you?! You don't like it when I'm happy?" Beryl started crying again and turned away from Reaver.
"Now, now, Beryl, I demand you stop this at once." Reaver shouted, putting his clipboard down on a nearby table.
The room became quiet as Beryl slowly turned to Reaver with a lustful look in her eyes. "Mr. Reaver…" Beryl slowly walked to him as he backed against the wall.
"Beryl, why are you looking at me like that?" Reaver's fear soon found him trying to reach for the door knob and finding nothing. "Beryl, get away from me…"
A half hour later, Reaver emerged from his room, flustered and sweating. Tucking his shirt back and refastening his pants, Reaver fumbled the thought of telling this to anyone. "I have never seen another naked human being bend in those angles!" He leaned against the wall and attempted to catch his breath. Straightening himself up, Reaver decided to let Beryl "sleep it off" and went to find another subject. He figured waking her now would be like waking a sleeping bear: suicidal and stupid. "I think I need to take a bath after that." He heard screaming from downstairs and went to investigate.
Coming to the staircase, he found the source of the screaming. Barry was grasping his face and screaming like a raving lunatic. "Oh, by the gods! I'M BLIND!" he shouted, running around like a crazed chicken. Reaver tried to tune out the screaming as he took out the clipboard and starting jutting stuff down. Oddly, Willa still stood in her spot by the piano, not noticing the chaos around her.
"I should probably check on Miss Sarah and see how she doing." Reaver mumbled, trying to ignore Barry's frantic screams. Reaver walked into the kitchen, and saw nothing out of the ordinary. "Miss Sarah? Are you in here?" he shouted, looking around. He noticed that lunch was half-way done and he heard crying coming from the pantry. He dreaded opening the pantry door, but he did anyway, only very slowly. His eyes widened when he looked inside. "Miss Sarah?" he asked softly. He took one step in and noted the floor was covered in straw. "Where did all this straw come from?" he asked himself, stepping on it a few times.
"It's not straw, Mr. Reaver." chirped a voice from the corner.
Reaver lit a candle and the sight stunned him. "Rapunzel!" Reaver shouted, as Miss Sarah stood up.
"I tried to cut it, but it just keeps growing…" she whined, braiding some of the strands into intricate designs. He decided to leave this one alone and slowly left the pantry.
Rosie, who took to carrying a bucket around, walked up to Reaver. "Sir, we have a problem with Gordon." She said, in a queasy manner.
Reaver sighed and tightened his grip on his clipboard. "Oh, now what? Did he grow horns?" he asked, exasperated.
"Not quite…" Rosie led Reaver to the foyer, where Willa still stood in her place.
"Well, where is he and why is his uniform on the floor?" he asked, over Barry's screaming.
Rosie, upon making sure she wasn't going to throw up again, reached into a pile of clothing on the floor. She pulled out a puppy. "Sir, this is Gordon." She said, in the most convincing manner possible. "I watched him drink the rest of the tonic and slowly transform into this puppy."
Even Reaver found this hard to believe, but he knew Rosie wasn't one to lie. Reaver looked at his clipboard and then at the panic around the house. Willa had forgone reality, Barry was blind, Miss Sarah's hair wouldn't stop growing, Beryl had turned into some sort of hormonal beast, Rosie couldn't stop vomiting, and now Gordon had completely transformed into a dog. Reaver raised his pen as Rosie held her bucket close and started vomiting again. He walked into his study and sat down.
"Side effects include, but are not limited to: blindness, hallucinations, over active mood swings, manic hair growth, nausea, and transformation…"
Reaver and Barry walked along the catwalk of one of his factories in Industrial. Barry was wearing a pair of Beryl's glasses, his eyesight still coming back slowly. "How's the eyesight doing, Hatch?" asked Reaver, pretending to be interested.
"Well, it's come back slightly. Luckily, Beryl let me use a pair of her glasses until it's returned fully." Barry responded, jovially. "That reminds me: Beryl has been in your room every night this week since drinking that tonic. What kind of 'special observation' do you have her under?"
Reaver chuckled softly. "You need not worry yourself with it, Hatch. Now, how is everyone else coping?" he asked, stretching his arms a bit.
"Well, Miss Sarah's hair finally stopped growing and we were finally able to cut it back to its regular length. On the plus side, it's softer and more manageable now, according to her, and she was able to make some nice lace doilies and such from her extra hair." Barry said, with a blush.
"Good, good. Now, what about Willa?" Reaver asked.
"Well, we found her worshiping the oven late last night and had to strap her to her bed to keep from lighting any fires. Miss Sarah told me this morning she's slowly coming back to reality." Barry looked at his clipboard and marked a few things down. "That alchemist you called in said Gordon should be back to normal as soon as the antidote he gave him goes through his system. Oh, and Rosie's vomiting has ceased as of this morning."
Nodding his approval, Reaver and Barry approached a woman on the catwalk. "Hatch, this is Gladys. Since I can't oversee all product testing, she was hired to make sure nothing happens in my absence from the factories. She's going to make sure everything is less…homicidal than usual." Barry nodded his hello, which the lady returned, with barely any emotion. "She's the backbone of this facility, and will make sure all test subjects come and go and are disposed of should anything happen." said Reaver, happily.
"Hello, and welcome to the Reaver Industries testing center." said the woman, in an almost mechanical sounding voice over the intercoms.
Reaver smiled and led Barry away from the area. Something about that Gladys lady made Barry very uneasy, but he decided to ignore it for now, as there was much to do; starting with the destruction of the tonic. "Come, Hatch, let's go oversee the tonic destruction. Oh, and I need you to make a few appointments for me…" said Reaver, his cane leading them away.
"Yes, Master Reaver." said Barry, jotting something down on his clipboard. Before boarding the elevator, Barry looked up once again at the Gladys lady, noting she didn't move much, other than outstretching her arm and instructing people where to go. He watched her press the button on the intercom device and something about her statement gave Barry chills.
"Cake and grief counseling will be available at the end of the testing period."
N'cha, everyone!
Have I made it too obvious I've been on a Portal kick lately? Probably. Do I think Stephen Merchant is hot? Definitely, thought that's unrelated lol.
This one is a lot shorter than I hoped it would be, but in the end, I like it for its shortness. I like writing quickies; they are a fast way to get a quick laugh in between the bigger chapters. I've got some good stuff planned for the next few chapters that I know you guys are going to love! OH! And to those who are fans of my "A Maid's Story" fic, the newest chapter is in the works right now! It's a long one, so you guys are in for a treat!
I might be doing a Portal fic, soon…but I'm still undecided. Still reeling in from the BioShock fic disaster. Hehehe….
Next Installment: There is a force more powerful than all of us, and it's plagued fandoms for too long. Now, it's coming to Albion, and SHE has her eyes on the inhabitants of Lakeview Manor...
As always, I'd like to thank you for your reviews and I want you all to know, I appreciate your viewership and any criticism you may have, positive or not (I prefer positive, like everyone else). I never actually thought so many people would favorite my story and it seems to be getting quite a nice fan base, which is more than my modesty ever hoped for. Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart.
Reaver and Barry Hatch belong to Lionhead.