Chapter # 9 – Unlikely Allies

HOUSE OF BROOTS, BLUE COVE, DELAWARE

“Jay?” Miss Parker called out hesitantly as she reached the top of Broots’ narrow staircase; she waited several long seconds before repeating the call.

“In here,” a reluctant voice finally called out from the bedroom at the end of the hall.

Parker lingered at the doorframe, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath before entering the small, yet well furnished, guest room. Broots was more domestic than she had given him credit.

“I’m sorry,” were the first words out of her mouth; she grimaced as they came out hesitantly. With a small sigh, Parker moved towards the bed where Jay now sat, hugging his knees. “I should not have said what I did.” She admitted quietly, guilt eating into her as she observed the defensive position the boy was curled into. It was too familiar.

Jay brought his gaze up to face her, studying her quietly. “You’re different than I remember,” he stated, no accusation in his voice.

Parker sat down beside the boy, meeting his deep brown eyes, waiting for him to continue. His eyes reminded her so much of Jarod, the lost pretender who was overwhelming her thoughts.

“You were the first person to see the real me,” Jay finally admitted, hugging his knees tighter. “All my life, I was trained to do what I was told, made to believe that any expression of emotion was wrong. But not by you. You were the first person to see just me, not a successful science experiment, just me, a boy.” He spoke with slight faltering.

“We only spoke for a few minutes.” Parker reminded him gently, yet negating the compliment. “I don’t deserve to be on anyone’s pedestal.”

My entire childhood was filled with darkness and negativity, until you offered me a few brief moments of sanctuary. It may be only the first of many from now on, but I can’t help but remember its’ significance then,” Jay practically whispered. “I’ve thought often about that kind, gentle woman who gave me the first memories of light in my dark and oppressive world.”

“It was a moment of compassion.” Parker replied, shrugging away Jay’s implication. “The pain in your eyes reminded me of another boy, one who’s suffering I ignored. Your memories have turned me into something I am not.”

Jay adverted his gaze. “I can see now you are not who I thought you were. I always wanted to thank that woman, who gave that gift of compassion and hope.”

“Few people are who we believe them to be.” Parker replied softly, her thoughts turning briefly to Mr. Parker; just another amendment to the Parker curse.

“Jarod is.” Jay replied, a slight hint of accusation in his voice. “My family is.”

“Even they conceal darkness.” Parker retorted, a slight edge creeping into her voice.

Jay shook his head firmly. “Everyone has secrets. It’s not the same thing.”

Parker leaned back against the wall with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry I can’t be the person you thought I was. It’s just the way it is.” Aware her eyes were starting to water slightly, she allowed her thoughts to focus on the older pretender. “It’s not safe for you to be here. Jarod would not want you to risk the life you have built for yourself. You need to run, run far away from here.” She warned the teen, suppressing warnings of capture before they could leave her.

Jay shook his head with determination. “Jarod risked everything to give me my freedom. I have to do this.”

“No you don’t. Sydney, Broots and I will figure out a way. I promise you.” Parker replied. “This is not your battle to fight.”

Jay shook his head. “If you won’t let me, I’ll do it alone.” He said with conviction, his tone taking on that quality which Parker had observed in his ‘chromosomal equal.’

“Then you clearly are as stubborn as your genetic origin.” Parker snapped, sighing in frustration as the boy shrank into himself at her harsher tone. .

“Who is the real you?” Jay finally asked, not meeting her eyes. “Are you the woman who cares about the lonely boy, or the one who uses harsh words to push everyone away?”

Parker took a deep breath, recalling the conversation that she and Jarod had shared in the Florida Keys.

“It doesn’t suit you.”

“What?”

“This façade you put up. You try to act like your father; But he’s not who you are.

“What is with your gene pool and always asking difficult questions?” Parker contemplated aloud, her voice barely a whisper.

“They are only difficult if you are trying to hide something.” Jay replied knowingly.

Parker was admittedly taken aback by the level of maturity and composure that the younger pretender was portraying. “Most kids your age are more concerned with getting their learners permit. You’ve escaped the Centre, broken away from the web that will also trap Jarod and I. Jarod’s life is not worth the sacrifice if the price is your freedom.” She argued with the teen. “You know very well what he would say if he were in this room.”

“It’s because he’s not here that we are even having this conversation. Jarod’s life is worth every sacrifice. How can you say that?” Jay asked accusingly, his body language hardening instantly.

“No Jay. My mother died trying to rescue children like you. Every action comes at a price. Jarod and I lost our chance at a normal life the second she was murdered. I will not let you become the next permanent casualty.” Parker informed the young pretender, her voice softening.

“And what about Jarod?” Jay countered.

“We will do our best Jay. That’s all I can promise. Life is a lot easier to negotiate if you learn that not everyone can be saved.” She replied honesty. “Ask Sydney. He tried to drill that concept into Jarod’s head. You can’t save everyone.”

“You speak of him as if he is already gone.” The teen remarked with obvious bitterness.

“He is gone.” Parker informed him.

“Gone, but not forgotten. As long as we are here fighting for him, Jarod still has a chance. I will never give up.” Jay replied instantly, his voice taking on such force that Parker almost jumped back in surprise.

“And what about Major Charles, and Emily? What happens to them while you are trying to save Jarod from a place which prides itself on leaving no survivors?”

Jay sprang from the bed, moving over to the window. Parker gasped slightly, as the revelation dawned on her. She was besieged with guilt, as the broken image of Major Charles leaving Jarod behind in the van, after a failed rescue attempt. She rose from the bed and approached the teen cautiously. “I can imagine the only thing worse than losing a son, would be to lose him more than once.” She offered supportively.

The teens head nodded hesitantly. “When I was first rescued, the day we had to leave Jarod behind on the runway, Dad was beside himself with worry. But this time, he knows exactly what happened, where Jarod has been sent… he…”

“He blames himself.” Parker finished for him.

Jay nodded again, his back still to the woman behind him. “Can’t you see Miss Parker? I have to help Jarod. If I don’t, I won’t only lose my brother, but my father as well.”

Parker stepped back, observing the slender frame before her, tense with obvious resolve. It was blatant that Jay was determined to help Jarod, no matter what the consequences.

She moved back to the small bed as a distinct memory from her childhood, when she was thirteen years old, one of her last memories of Jarod before she had been sent away to boarding school came to mind:

She climbed through the air vent which opened into Jarod’s bedroom. “Thanks Angelo!” she whispered as the small boy disappeared into sight.

“Jarod?” She called out hesitantly, gripping the vent cover with her fingers.

“Miss Parker?” A small black form called out from across the shadowed room.

Miss Parker smiled as she pushed the vent out, cringing slightly, when it noisily fell to the floor. She paused until she was sure the sound had gone undetected, with a slight shrug, she lowered herself gently to the floor, replacing the vent cover.

“Jarod?” She asked again with concern as she saw her friend, uncharacteristically curled into a small ball on the floor, protectively hugging his knees to his chest.

“I thought you were supposed to be in England, with your father.” The young pretender stated.

Miss Parker frowned, the pain of another broken promise resurfacing. “Daddy ended up being too busy to go.” She admitted, not wanting to recall the lonely hours she had spent as Christmas had slowly passed by. It was the second Christmas she had spent without her mother, and she was beginning to realize that the holiday season no longer held the same wonder and excitement it once did. That joy and happiness had died along with her mother in that elevator. This season had brought her nothing but emptiness, amplifying the pain she felt from her mother’s absence. .

“I’m sorry. I know how excited you were.” Jarod offered sincerely, still sitting motionless on the floor.

Unsure what was wrong with her friend, Miss Parker looked around the small room, a small smile finding its way onto her face, as she caught sight of the small paper snowflakes that lay on the pretender’s desk.

“You made more.” She exclaimed excitedly, picking them up, remembering the wonderful conversation she had shared with Jarod before departing for the Christmas holidays. The pretender’s eyes had filled with wonderment as she had described the way snow sparkled as it gently fell from the sky, the sensation of lying on your back, spreadeagle with your mouth open, ready to catch the delicate icy crystals. She turned back to her friend, seeing how Jarod’s face had taken on a pained expression. “I’m sorry Jarod, I really do hope you get to see the snow someday.”

The young pretender studied her intently for several seconds before placing his head onto his lap. “I did it. I got out.” He stated proudly, although with an undercurrent of sadness.

“What do you mean ‘out’?” She asked the young pretender with a frown on her face.

“To the roof, to see the snow.” Jarod replied, his voice muffled as his head was still buried against his knees.

Miss Parker moved to the wall, and slid down along the wall, sitting beside her friend, sensing he wanted to say more.

“It was beautiful Miss Parker.” The teen admitted, turned his head to meet hers, his warm brown eyes coming alight before fading slightly as the pained look returned.

“They found out, didn’t they?” She asked knowingly, watching as the pretender nodded his head sadly.

“Sydney?” She probed further.

Jarod nodded. “He returned from wherever it is he goes. I’ve never seen him so angry.”

Miss Parker had to smile a bit at that. It was hard to imagine the level-headed psychiatrist worked up over anything. “I bet you earned yourself quite the lecture.” She commented, attempting to bring a smile back to her friend’s face.

Jarod grinned slightly. “I thought he was never going to stop.” Sydney’s long-winded parental life-lessons were somewhat of a point of amusement for the two children. Miss Parker herself had been subjected to a few, Sydney obviously increasing his nurturing ways since her mother had passed on.

The pretender’s face darkened as he grew distant. “I’m not allowed to walk around on my own anymore. I have to wait for the sweepers.” Jarod dejectedly admitted.

Parker smiled sympathetically at her friend. “It’s Sydney, Jarod. He’ll get over it. It was worth it though, wasn’t it?”

Jarod simply gave her a melancholy smile, but his eyes retained their look of defeat.

“There’s more that you’re not telling me.” Parker stated knowingly.

“Dr. Raines, he…” The pretender said softly, his voice breaking, as he brought his head off his knees and turned to face his younger friend. Miss Parker gasped slightly, as she caught sight of a deep purple bruise along the pretender’s right cheekbone.

“After Sydney left, he came, and took me to another room. It was so small and dark…” The pretender continued haltingly, obviously trying to suppress his emotions and failing miserably. Parker placed an awkward hand on the pretender’s knee as a weak attempt at offering comfort.

“How long did he leave you there Jarod?” Miss Parker finally asked.

The young pretender shrugged. “How many days have you been gone for?” He asked sadly, bringing his head to his knees again. Miss Parker shook her head, as the implications of Jarod’s question dawned on her. It had been nearly two weeks since she had last seen the young pretender.

Both teens looked up as they became aware of a presence outside Jarod’s small room. The two exchanged fearful glances, as they realized there was not enough time for Miss Parker to return to the vent.

“What are you doing in here, Miss Parker?” The evil voice of Dr. Raines questioned angrily, as he entered the small room, two sweepers following in behind him.

Miss Parker shivered slightly, noticing how Jarod was cowered against the wall, as if willing himself to disappear.

“I was just visiting.” She answered, surprised at the strength her tone projected. She quickly got to her feet.

“I suggest you leave – now.” Dr. Raines replied neutrally, walking over to the small desk and picking up the small snowflakes with disdain.

“Get up Jarod.” He ordered, crumpling the paper in his hands, destroying the delicate pieces of art work. “It’s obvious that we are not challenging your mind hard enough if you find time and patience in fantasizing about such trivial matters.” He continued. Miss Parker frowned at the hidden implications behind his words. She turned and looked at Jarod, the young pretender was reluctantly pushing himself to a standing position. She frowned as Jarod made no signs of responding to Raines’ remark. He instead just stared at the floor in front of him, his eyes betraying his nervousness, avoiding eye contact.

Miss Parker felt the firm hand of one of the sweeper’s on her back, and she reluctantly left the room, lingering on the outside as Raines continued to speak to the pretender, trying to hear what was being said.

“You’re kept isolated for a reason Jarod. Forget about the outside world, and forget about Miss Parker. Your purpose is to serve the Centre.” The doctor informed the teen cruelly.

“She’s my friend.” A cautious voice replied.

“Not anymore she’s not. You don’t get to have friends Jarod. It’s for your own protection. You’re too susceptible to contamination from the outside world. Isolation is our only option. You will understand one day.”

“We weren’t doing anything wrong,” he protested.

Miss Parker flinched as the sound of flesh hitting flesh sounded sharply. Not wanting to hear anymore, she took of running down the hall, wishing she could do something to save her friend.

Parker shook herself from her reverie, looking up to Jay, who was still looking out the window, oblivious to the fact she had drifted away momentarily.

Several days after she had been caught visiting Jarod, her father had announced that he had enrolled her in a boarding school in Italy. Before she could get two words of protest in, she had been on the plane bound for Europe. It had been mid-term, and she now suspected that Raines had everything to do with her being whisked away in the middle of the winter, far away from Jarod.

Parker studied the younger pretender intently, seeing for the first time his differences, not similarities to Jarod. That memory had been the first she had, bearing witness to the depths of which Raines’ cruelty could sink, and it barely scratched the surface. It was perhaps a miracle that Jay could function, let alone have the confidence to leave the safety of his family and arrive on Sydney’s doorstep. Hell of a nature versus nurture debate.

Jarod had been a young and confident boy, but he had grown more doubtful, as his years at the Centre had passed. Parker could only imagine what it would have been like, slowly losing hope at each passing year that the Centre would release him. It was only in his years of freedom that Jarod had found and developed his cocky demeanour. He had been so understandably naïve and immature those first few years on the run, a child trapped in man’s body. To a lesser degree this still held true.

Jay was different. He had already shed the skin the Centre had forced on him, and was gradually turning into the young man Parker suspected that Jarod would have been like, had the Centre not brutally interfered. Jay was his own person, a teenager quickly making inroads into the responsibilities of manhood.

Her soul still screamed warnings to protect the boy, but she was slowly beginning to realize that perhaps Jay was ready for the challenges that lay ahead. Perhaps the ultimate failure that she should fear was not what cruel fate could be lingering in the shadows for the young man, but rather would happen to all their lives, if Jarod couldn’t be brought home.

A world without Jarod was not one that anyone caught in this tangled web wanted any part of.

Major Charles: The distraught father.

Broots: The kind-hearted suburban man, just wanting to set things right.

Emily: The long lost sister desperately wanting to get to know the older brother whose disappearance had torn her family’s lives into turmoil.

Sydney: The guilt ridden psychiatrist turned paternal keeper.

Jay: The young boy struggling to find his place in the world while saving the family he never realized he could belong to.

Where did she stand?

TRIUMVIRATE HEADQUARTERS –THE CONGO, AFRICA

Jarod let out a long sigh as he stood motionless, waiting for one of the guards to pull the hood off his head, or to undo his handcuffs. If anything, his time here had been therapeutic in removing his debilitating phobia of the hood.

He had been left tethered in the infirmary for what he estimated to be about thirty-six hours, alone, only the dripping of the IV to keep him company. It was obvious that his dehydration had reached dangerous levels.

Jarod rolled his shoulders gently, as he was released from the ever present restraints, closing his eyes, as the black cloth was pulled from his head. He stared into the familiar small cage, apprehension about spending another night already surfacing.

He tensed as the cage door was opened and a strong hand guided him forwards. He walked forward, fighting the urge to hesitate.

“You’re not going to give us any problems tonight, are you lab monkey?” The menacing voice of the guard questioned as he pushed Jarod sharply towards the left.

Jarod ignored him as he moved into the corner in the far left hand side of the cell. He sank down into a seated position, hugging his knees protectively, bracing himself for what promised to be a long and entirely sleepless night.

The guard snickered slightly as he exited the cage, closing the door with a bit more force than was necessary.

Jarod looked around the cage discreetly, his head lifting slightly as he found the older man, with the distinguishing salt and pepper hair studying him intently. Their eyes interlocked briefly before Jarod forced himself to look away.

He wasn’t in the mood to determine how serious they were about the sanctity of rule # 1 – no speaking, not tonight. Whatever had been mixed into the IV fluids he had been given in the infirmary had left him drowsy and admittedly compliant.

Jarod closed his eyes and imagined himself to be back on the infirmary bed. He relished the welcoming softness of the thin mattress, and the ability to close his eyes without the fear of being victim to one of his nightmares. Despite being tethered like some sort of animal, the infirmary had been a welcome respite.

Jarod’s eyes flew open as he became aware of a small rustling to his right. He turned slightly, surprised to find the older gentleman had made his away across the small cell, and had settled down beside him.

Jarod eyed him nervously before lowering his head to study the floor in front of him.

“You belong to them.” The man’s accented voice whispered so quietly, Jarod almost questioned if he had imagined the sound. He easily recognized the accent as dutch, despite the hushed tone with which the elderly man spoke. He brought his gaze up to the guard whose attention was focused on some poor soul locked up in one of the other cells in the room.

Jarod narrowed his eyes. “I belong to no-one.” He whispered, forcing bitterness into his tone.

The older man shook his head, touching his hand to the brand Jarod had spent the better part of his time in Africa trying to forget. “This tells me otherwise.”

Jarod flinched away from the unwanted contact, his gaze going to the far end of the room, where the guard was disciplining another prisoner. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, briefly, as a wave of empathy for the man washed through him.

“You don’t understand what this place is.” The man stated, triggering Jarod’s curiosity enough that the pretender lifted his eyes to meet his. “Most of these men are simply waiting for death to come, and not by their own hand. But not you, your presence here has a much greater purpose.”

“I don’t follow.” Jarod whispered back carefully, his gaze again darting nervously to the guard at the far end of the room. The man was obviously implying that these cages were the last step on what he could only assume was a torturous path to death in Africa. But who were these men, and where did they come from? His soul was begging to be allowed to help, but it was nothing but an impossible situation. Jarod was emotionally spent, and in reality could only afford to care about himself, to keep his mind from succumbing.

“Most of us in here are discarded wastes, personnel who have outlived their usefulness.” The mysterious man whispered back, his grey eyes steeling into the pretender’s. He inhaled sharply.

“You don’t know anything about me.” The pretender whispered back with an edge to it.

The older man smiled slightly in amusement. “I used to be what I can only imagine would qualify as your worse nightmare.”

Jarod’s brow wrinkled in confusion, but he remained silent, obviously intrigued.

The man traced a long gash along Jarod’s pectoral muscle, causing the pretender to squirm away from his touch. “In a past life, I used to be the one who ordered this. Cruel irony now as I find myself on the other side of the bars. Let me guess, you’re some disobedient project from who knows what corner of the earth who has stopped behaving and has found himself immersed in hell.”

Jarod’s eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion, as he processed the implications of what the man had just told him.

I made a career out of breaking down the resolves of stubborn experiments gone wrong, just like you. And now look at me.” The man remarked, his eyes boring into Jarod’s, his expression a mixture of anger and regret.

Jarod broke away from the man’s gaze, his exhausted mind unwillingly trying to process what he had just been told. He couldn’t tell if the man was expressing regret over the path his life had taken, and the lives he had ruined as he climbed the corporate ladder, or simply was bitter at the ironic twist it had taken.

The elderly man seemed to sense the pretender’s uncertainty. “I have found myself with endless hours to contemplate what I have done with life, people I have hurt along the way for my benefit. It’s amazing what revelations can come when your end is near.”

Jarod huffed slightly, feeling no empathy for the man. He imagined for a brief moment Lyle suffering behind these bars. Perhaps this was a fate one could wish upon certain individuals.

The older man let out a small sigh. “I don’t expect, or deserve, your sympathy. But perhaps this is my opportunity to a proverbial act of good, after a lifetime of antagonism; My turn to give hope instead of taking it away.”

The reflective nature of the man’s tone caught Jarod’s attention and he met the older man’s stare, his eyes filled with curiosity.

Both men flinched as a baton was shoved in-between them and clanged harshly against the bars. “Monkeys don’t have hope.” A menacing voice spoke from behind the two prisoners.

Jarod gently rapped his head against the bar he was leaning against, letting out a broken sigh, knowing that what already had promised to be an unpleasant evening was about to get significantly worse.

HOUSE OF BROOTS, BLUE COVE, DELAWARE

48 hours later….

Sydney rubbed his temples, staring at the bank records tiredly. Broots and Jay had been working determinedly on pursing electronic leads on Jarod. The boy had been insistent that the first thing that had to be done was to establish an electronic link to the pretender’s whereabouts or at least day to day activities in Africa. Only then could they begin to formulate a plan to bring Jarod back home. Sydney suspected the boy was only desperate for information about his older brother, as Jay now referred to Jarod. In reality, they all were, and no one had argued with the suggested course of action.

Unable to participate in the electronic hound dog search, Sydney and Miss Parker had dedicated their time to investigating Raines’ bank records. Parker was convinced that the downfall of the chairman was the ultimate key to getting what they want. Unwilling to sit by with idle hands, his mind tormented by the many memories of his wrong doings in regards to Jarod, Sydney had indulged her wishes. Whether or not Parker was pursuing Raines for the right reasons, it was keeping their focus away from the one question none of the four members of the so-called rescue squad wanted to pose; was Jarod still surviving?

“Syd?” Miss Parker called out, standing in the door frame of the small office Sydney had claimed as his workspace. He found it easier to work away from the group.

Sydney’s life was not one he wanted to reflect on, and the copy of the young boy he had raised and exploited was dredging up memories that the psychiatrist was not ready or willing to face.

“Broots and Boy Wonder Junior have something for us.” Parker stated, lingering as the psychiatrist slowly rose to his feet.

“You okay Syd?” She asked sincerely.

The aging psychiatrist shook his head sadly. “So many missed turning points Miss Parker. I can’t help but realize that this path could have been entirely avoided.”

“This is far from over. But I understand he has the same effect on all of us.” The younger woman replied gently, obviously referring to Jay’s presence. Sydney nodded sadly as he moved passed Parker and into the kitchen where Broots and Jay were waiting expectantly.

“What did you find?” Parker asked the computer brains, rolling her eyes as she saw the large pile of soda cans and half eaten pint of ice cream.

“Jay created a worm virus, and through some difficult manoeuvring we were able to plant it on the African mainframe without detection.”

“I don’t follow.” Parker stated honestly, turning towards Sydney, the psychiatrist sure that he, himself, wore a similar look of confusion.

“The virus acted as a leach. It grabbed on to any information that contained Jarod’s file number. We were able to trace the files back to their original source as the server underwent its regular nightly maintenance and backup functions.”

“English, Broots.” Parked ordered, snapping her fingers authoritatively. Sydney had to repress a small smile. It had been the same dance while they had been chasing Jarod, Broots also getting very excited when he had cracked a complex problem, and always explaining it in a way that involved the most random ramblings and complex tech lingo. It was familiar, and comforting, Sydney found himself almost believing they were back to chasing Jarod, not trying to dig out information about his protégé’s sufferings in Africa.

“Our file found it’s way to the main surveillance archive database in Africa. I pulled feed from last night, it just finished downloading.”

“Jarod?” Parker gasped slightly. “You found Jarod?”

Broots nodded excitedly.

“Play the video.” Parker commanded.

Sydney gave a concerned look towards Jay. They did not know what to expect, and he didn’t want the boy to be aware of what cruelty Jarod had been forced to endure. He knew the boy would only add to his already misplaced guilt over their failed attempt at rescuing the pretender before his transfer to the Congo.

Broots patted the teen on the shoulder affectionately. “Nice work kid, definitely keeping me on my toes.” The tech admitted playfully.

“Jay, why don’t you take a break? Perhaps go and finish off the Star Wars movie that you and Broots started yesterday?” Sydney offered. Two perhaps, drop one.

The boy frowned. “But we just found Jarod!” He protested.

Sydney closed his eyes tightly. “Please Jay. We don’t know what’s on that tape. I don’t want you to see it just in case…”

“In case what?” The boy challenged.

Sydney moved to respond, but Miss Parker put up her hand, silencing the shrink.

“He’s right Jay. This is our burden to shoulder, don’t make it yours.” She appealed to the boy.

“I want to see him, I have to know how he is.” Jay argued back.

“And you will. Just let us see what we are dealing with, please? I know you think you have seen it all, growing up under Mr. Raines, but I assure you that you have not. Ignorance is bliss Jay, and once the blindfold has been lifted, you can’t take it back.” Parker pleaded.

The teen let out a heavy sigh, and slowly stood up from the table. “No secrets.” He requested, staring into Parker’s eyes. She nodded, exchanging a meaningful glance with the young pretender for several seconds before Jay left the room.

“Let’s just get it over with Broots.” Parker requested, as she and Sydney moved into their familiar spots behind the tech.

“Here goes nothing.” Broots muttered, pressing enter.

Sydney frowned as the screen revealed a large room with four distinct barred areas – cages, each with about six to seven figures.

“This can’t be right.” He stated. “Relative isolation has always been one of the fundamental cornerstones to the pretender program.”

The tech shook his head. “The electronic tag is unmistakable. The archives have been receiving about six to eight hours of feed from this room, and the file is undeniably Jarod’s.” Broots informed them.

The trio gasped as a distinct hooded form was escorted into the room, his hands bound his back. “There. Pause it Broots.” Parker ordered.

“Zoom in.” Sydney asked looking away as Jarod’s clearly abused form filled the screen. The pretender had lost a visible amount of weight, and his physique had suffered, his once chiselled muscles reduced to insignificant angles. He was dressed only in a flimsy pair of scrub-like pants, his feet bare. A thick beard had grown on the pretender’s face, indicating the Africans were not nearly as concerned with personal hygiene and grooming as the Centre had always been. He felt Parker’s comforting hand on his shoulder as Broots proceeded to play the rest of the archived recording.

The guards released the pretender from the handcuffs. Jarod kept his head lowered and immediately moved towards the open door of his cell.

“Stay.” A firm voice commanded, and the pretender stopped in his tracks obediently, his eyes still downcast.

A second guard pressed the pretender against the bars, holding up a small container with two small pills. Jarod eyed them suspiciously. “Sedatives?” He questioned, wincing as the guard smacked him hard on the back of his head.

Jarod gripped the bars in front of him tightly, visibly angered as the guard opened the small container. “A little birdie told me that someone is scared of the dark.” The guard informed the pretender nastily, yanking one of Jarod’s tense hands off of the bars and forcing the pills into them. “Don’t make me ask again.” He warned, stepping back.

Jarod studied the pills intently, his jaw clenched in obvious disgust. He hesitated, his gaze darting back and forth between the pills and the guard on his right. Straightening slightly, after several agonizing seconds, Jarod glared at the two guards before him defiantly, before slamming the pills to the ground.

The two men didn’t hesitate as they rammed the errant pretender against the bars, Jarod grunting painfully as he was dragged into the cell, struggling madly, the other prisoners scurrying out of the way with fearful movements. Once inside the cage, the guards threaded the pretender’s hands around one of the many bars, and quickly entrapped his thrashing wrists in handcuffs.

“You don’t learn, do you lab monkey?” One of the guards asked nastily as he pushed Jarod down to the ground. Together the two forced Jarod to lie face first, holding his legs down strongly as a third figure entered the cell.

“Somehow, we knew your presence would be required.” The one man informed the new player as a syringe was prepared.

“No… please…” Jarod pleaded repetitively, still struggling to the best of his abilities against the strong hold, the rattling of the handcuff chain as he pulled against them, giving away his desperation.

The men ignored the pretender’s protests, instead pulling down his pants enough to reveal his lower left hip.

“NO!” Jarod screamed, his voice muffled as his struggles seemed to find new life, although in vain. The third man didn’t hesitate as he plunged the syringe into Jarod’s exposed flesh, the pretender crying out pain.

The three men stood back as Jarod’s thrashings slowly subsided, the pretender was clearly raging a war against the pull of the drugs. Without a backwards glance they exited the cell, giving threatening glares to the six men who were cowering in the opposite corner, as far as possible from where the pretender lay face-planted on the ground.

After the door was closed, an elderly gentleman crawled over, pulling up Jarod’s pants the remaining distance. He placed a comforting hand on the pretender’s shoulder, letting it linger as the pretender’s struggles ceased, the pull on the handcuffs threaded around the bar going slack. The man then turned the pretender onto his side, his back to the crowd of men still cowering in the corner.

“Stop the tape Broots.” Parker whispered, her voice halting.

Sydney gasped sharply as he caught sight of the damage that became visible on Jarod’s back as the image became frozen on the computer monitor.

He turned over to Miss Parker, a single tear trickling down her cheek, her shock and dismay equally as evident as his.

Sydney could taste the bile in his throat as he found his eyes unable to look away from the disturbing image, his disgust increasing as he clued in to the triangular pattern that had been seared into his protégés upper back.

Branded like cattle.

He turned once again to Miss Parker, desperate to erase the image that was now seared into his brain as well, only to find the woman fleeing the room.

In his darkest of nightmares, he had never managed anything like this.