"How could this have happened?" Gibson lamented, "Everything was going perfect… it should've been a simple get in, get out. What did I miss? I couldn't have missed… I always plan for every contingency; what did I miss? What could I have missed?"
Gibson stood up from his cot and walked to the other side of his prison cell. He stood before the cracked mirror over the sink next to the toilet and scowled, growling as he slammed his fist against the mirror and deepening the cracks. The madman growled and muttered, "If that filthy mutt hadn't gotten involved," "And that was your first mistake." A voice echoed.
Gibson turned around and saw a cloaked, hooded figure standing in front of the glass panel that separated his cell from the hallway. Gibson couldn't make out much of the figure's face, but he could make out a familiar pair of icy blue eyes glaring daggers at him from within the darkness of the hood. "The coyote had proven to be a hindrance to the mission from the start. How could fail to take him into account?" The figure asked in a distorted voice, "Not to mention the other Loonatics? The hospital staff, and, oh yeah, the fact that his uncle is a decorated police officer!?"
"I administered the serum," Gibson retorted, "Plus, with the amount of damage the Runner boy's already suffered, his chances of reproducing are effectively zero. His only hope would be to artificially inseminate a hen, and no fertility clinic would bother helping someone with such a short time left to live to have a baby."
The figure gave a heavy sigh and shook their head. "Oh you poor, naïve fool." Gibson clenched his teeth at that as the figure walked closer to the glass, placing his gloved hand against it and beaconed Gibson closer with the other. "Did it ever occur to you that I don't give a damn?" Gibson stumbled back as the creature screeched at him, "I hired you to eliminate Reverend Runner's lineage… completely. As in, no child could be born to or from him… ever! That is what I paid you to do, and you failed!"
Gibson lowered his head in shame as the figure knelt down in order to gaze into his eyes and let out another distorted sigh. "I'm afraid this is where we part ways, doctor." Gibson's head snapped up and gazed into the being's icy eyes as they continued, "Our contract is hereby dissolved, Dr. Gibson. I'm afraid you're on your own from this point onward."
"But what about the A.I.M.? My patients, my research!?" Gibson roared as he sprang to his feet, "Without me the entire operation will die! I'll be expelled from the scientific community! You… you can't do this to me!" The figure held up a finger to silence him and stated, "Actually, I can, and I am… Dr. Gibson. What you do from this point onward is up to you… alone."
Gibson pressed his forehead and palms against the glass and stared into the hooded being's eyes, vaguely making out the outline of a beak with a cruel smirk stretched across it. "I'm going to take my leave now. Goodbye, doctor."
"W-wait!" Gibson barked. "What about me? You said our contract is dissolved, but that's not how this works! Maybe you can just walk away, but I can't. As far as I'm concerned, there's still a contract to be carried out. How am I to get out of it?" The figure turned to Gibson and shrugged. "Well, I suppose that all depends on how you want to get out." And with that, the figure turned and walked away, the sound of claws clicking on the prison's cement floor could be heard growing fainter and fainter as the being walked away. Gibson flinched at the sound of a heavy door slamming shut, signaling his visitor's departure.
Gibson walked over to his bed and buried his face in his hands, shaking his head in sorrow as he fought back tears. The whole time, the stranger's words kept echoing in his mind. "That all depends on how you want to get out." "What does it mean?" Gibson asked quietly rising to his feet and lifting his head, "What does it mean!?"
Just then, Gibson felt something small and wet hit his face. He sputtered and wiped his hands over his face quickly as he took a step backwards. Blinking his eyes, he saw what appeared to be a water pipe just above his head; a slow leak of water was dripping from a tiny break in the joint. The pipe stretched across the ceiling close to the rear wall of the cell, passing over his sink and toilet as it reached from one side wall to the other.
Gibson gazed up at the pipe, turning around and eventually lowering his gaze to his bed and his rumpled-up blanket. He gripped the collar of his prison jumper nervously as he walked over and picked up his pillow, removing the pillowcase and tossing the pillow to the ground before picking up the blanket before lifting his gaze back to the leaky pipe above.