The Monarch Effect (DISCONTINUED DRAFT)

Chapter 12

Wade, in a different corridor in another wing, was terrified. He sat in an electric chair in a cramped, rectangular interrogation room, answering question after question about himself, his life, his voice. If the people in front of him didn’t like it, they’d give him a terrible shock. He remembered waking up like this after being in bed, minding his own business while dealing with a hangover until he saw what looked to be some sort of flower get forced into his face.

“Look, mate, I don’t know what you wunt, or even wot yer tolkin about yeh folkin leprechaun- AHH!”

“Speak properly,” said the one in a white coat with a posh accent. The green one, who sounded more like the Host, standing in front of him kept studying his face.

“Men shouldn’t have long hair," he demanded. "Give me a razor.”

“Wot?” When the headpiece was taken off, he felt relieved for about a second, then screamed in agony when the oversized leprechaun took a razor to his beautifully curly hair. “OKAY, OKAY, OKAY! JUST TELL ME WOT YEH WUNT! Please!”

“Shut up and tell me who you work for!”

“Nobody!”

“80 volts,” said the man in green, still holding his shaved off his hair. He watched blankly as the punk scotsman convulsed for about 15 seconds. “Who are you?”

“I told you fifty times already!, I am Wade! I’m a protector!” He began crying. “Please just let me go!”

The green one looked at the scientist and back. “Who?”

“Who?”

The man grabbed his neck. "Schwachkopf! Who do you protect!”

“The damn host; Samuel! And Samantha, Sammy, Cathay-”

A low, striking yet monotonous and still very English, but not as posh voice interrupted through the speaker on the ceiling. “That’s all we need. Inferior, write the report to the Emerald City. Delta, bring him to me.” The voice was nice, even a little relaxing to the ears. Wade's guard was released for a moment until the interrogators spoke.

“Yes, my Alpha!” The two said simultaneously while saluting to the camera above him. Then, they released Wade from his confines and took him by his arms, and passed him to two, ginormous robots when they opened the door. Their bodies were freezing, and Delta led the way down a long, dark corridor.

“How can you see through this mess, eyh?”

“We just know, Expendable. Now be silent.”

Wade could feel himself being lifted off the ground by his arms, so high, his feet didn’t even drag. He wanted this to be some crazy dream as he’s never been in this kind of situation before, not even with the cops outside. Samuel and the others usually had his back. Now, he was completely exposed, having told them things not even the other mates knew. In situations sort of similar to this (which was actually pretty far off), he only knew how to fistfight, so with two literal robot soldiers keeping him above ground, he felt useless. First, a coma flower, then sleeping in a cold, metal jail cell, and now this crap? Whiskey, I need yeh...

After a bit of time, and a lot of longing for a drink to burn both his throat and his mind, he was brought onto a steel catwalk. Around it were what looked to be specks of black and white. They were all chanting some word he didn’t recognize, not that he had a chance to decipher it. He was brought up to the base of a stage with many stairs and a giant, upright slab in the middle. A woman’s face and perfectly golden hair poked out from behind, then back in. A few seconds later, the sound of a loud generator started the slab swiveled around revealing a man that seemed to appear closer than he originally thought. He looked tired with his head resting on his fist, even with the woman giving him the kind of attention that Wade frothed over just thinking about. These guys get strippers? Wait, of course they do; all bad guys get strippers. Wade wanted to believe this was a terrible, ultra-vivid dream.