Men were unusual. He usually brought women back for Scorpio, obeying the wishes of the man behind the tapestry. Tonight was a man. Filthy, wearing too many layers of clothing, underneath them the telltale scars and tattoos of a military man… Po knew the man was a cop, undercover trying to bring Scorpio down. They’d been watching him for a while.
Po didn’t know what compelled him to do it. But something made him let the man go.
Well, not really. But he left the key to his cuffs on the table by the unlocked door.
Scorpio didn’t punish Po, which was unexpected. He’d been trying to get out by any means possible; he just hadn’t seen an opportunity yet. Until the opportunity asked him for coffee.
Two days later, he received a request for a meeting at a café. Dingy walls, greasy surfaces, disgusting coffee, it was the type of place Po was comfortable in. Even when the ex-cop slid into the seat across from him, sliding a card his way.
“I wanted to thank you for letting him go.” The man paused, idly toying with the handle of his coffee mug. “I’d like to offer you a job. I would prefer you to look a bit more professional and less terrifying, though. I’ll help pay for it.” Po let the man talk, and he said things Po needed to hear. The deal had been that this company didn’t care where he’d come from, only what he could do for them. As long as he didn’t have to face Scorpio’s wrath for turning him in to the authorities, Po couldn’t find anything wrong with the gig.
He had no loyalty to Scorpio; the guy paid his bills. That was all.
This new guy would pay his bills better and let him do shit he liked to do.
And he didn’t hurt people. Scorpio knew he could do computer stuff, but never could find a need for it, thinking he was better than what he called basic computer hacks. Scorpio would much rather Po use his skills to kill, maim, and kidnap for him.
So that’s what he’d done. He couldn’t exactly say why, except that he had. Until he hadn’t.
He had Liam to thank for that. Now he had a job that his sister would be proud of.
**
His mind was a crinkled piece of paper. Tissue soft, after having been balled up and straightened out repeatedly. This woman, who he still believed to be a trick, was the only one who had shown him any kindness. She hadn’t uncuffed him long enough to do more than stretch, not after that first night, but she had let him stretch and change positions. She gave him fresh clothes, real food. And she talked. A fucking lot.
It was a trick, but one he was having a harder and harder time seeing.
He hadn’t realized he hadn’t eaten. He hadn’t thought about it. The drugs. What were they doing to him? Now that he realized he hadn’t eaten, he was starved, and for more than this damn soup and Jell-O shit she kept bringing him.
And the bitch just talked. She seemed to be talking to fill the silence, which he craved. The static was finally gone, but the pictures in his head hadn’t stopped, only faded a bit. But instead of silence, which he would have enjoyed, she talked, telling stories about his sister, which he supposed he was supposed to be enjoying, but wasn’t.
He still wasn’t convinced his sister was real. This woman—Rebel—was obviously sent by Dr. Pedigrew for some reason to trick him into something he still wasn’t sure about. So clearly, she would be in on his madness, simply going along with whatever hallucinations the good doctor had planted in his head.
“When he came back around, Daisy made sure she wore heels and makeup every time he showed up so she could turn him down in style.”
She didn’t seem comfortable talking so much, but if she wasn’t reading her book in the corner, she talked. Told him stories about her life with his sister. A life he was only just now beginning to realize might be real.