(no subject)
"Don't kill me."
There are two things she had never heard. She had never heard an exclamation of surprise, and she had never heard someone beg for their life. To her knowledge. She pulled the silencer out of her coat pocket and began to screw it onto the gun. "I'm not interested."
"You are though. Just hear me out."
She wasn't. But he knew this.
"I can fix your problem. I know you, and I can fix your memory....and everything else."
Her hand stopped twisting the cold metal onto the object that would end his life, but she didn't look up.
"I've spent my whole life researching the brain, and finding ways to repair it. A full 12 years I've been devoted, entrenched in only that. I know what happened to you, please."
She looked at him then, crouched on the floor before her, one hand raised to shield him from her onslaught. This one wasn't going well. Usually, well, every time, she felt nothing. This one was different from the beginning. From the picture.
"This is him, Ria. We want him out of our way. You can find him at the New Laorian Medical center right off of Main. He works late, so you shouldn't have trouble. If you do...well, I shouldn't worry about you, should I?" Alec smiled and sat back, settling into the maroon couch with his martini in his left hand. In his right, he held the picture, inviting her to take it. She didn't.
"What? Afraid of doctors, RB?"
She wasn't, obviously. She had had many doctors, and taken care of a few as well. But this one...
"No." It was difficult, even that.
"No? R, you're the best I have. Jones told me I shouldn't hire a tard, but I told him you'd do good. I told him, she's a little slow, but she's a analytical...remorseless...dependable killer." He paused between adjectives for effect, and now took a sip of his drink, eying her over the glass. "Don't make me eat my words, Ria. I don't like the taste. Besides, you owe me."
She did. She felt the small scar on the right side of the bridge of her nose. She didn't remember how she did it, but she knew it was why she had her problems.
"That's right. You had no where to go except in some home where you would be crapping yourself right now watching Oprah give hand jobs to that asshole Dr. Phil. You can thank me by taking this guy. You do it all the time. You'll do it now."
She took the picture, turned, and walked out.
He sat on the couch for awhile, sipping his drink. Thinking. The maid passed through. Again, the door swung open. Alec glanced up.
"So, old man. Have we got ourselves a winner?" Jones, a remarkably tall tan man in a polo shirt quickly strod through the room and virtually leapt onto the couch. He sat there, curled into a ball, intently staring at his assistant. Alec shifted uncomfortably.
"No problem."
"Did she recognize the face?"
"No."
"At all?"
"Of course not! Her memory's shot. She wouldn't recognize her mother. Besides, even if she did, so what?"
Jones leaned back. "You know, I thought you were mad for suggesting her, but I'm really starting to come around. I don't want to lose her. And if I do, I don't want her remembering us either, yes?"
"Yes. I'm just saying, don't worry."