Courts and Cabals 2 by G.S. D'Moore (warren buffett book recommendations TXT) 📗

eyes grew heavy, my body felt like it was sinking through the metal slab, and I welcomed the darkness like a long-time friend.

***

“Hey, get up!” a hand slammed down on the metal slab. It sounded like an artillery shell going off next to my head. I jumped, rolled, and fell onto the cold floor.

“Come on,” I groaned, as I pushed myself up.

“Wait,” I slowly lifted my arms and looked down at my feet. “I’m free.”

The table’s restraints had retracted, and the only thing keeping me from running was Vernon and Becky. They both looked pissed, and more than willing to fight, so I mentally labeled that Plan B.

“Hands behind your back, sleeping beauty,” Vernon didn’t wait for me to comply, and jerked my arms into place. My shoulders complained, but I didn’t fight it. Anything that pissed off the UN’s attack dog must be good news for me.

I let him push me forward and out of the examination room. There were no windows in the hallway, so I had no idea if it was day, night, or even what day of the week it was. I could have slept for hours, or days, with the cocktail they pumped into me.

The shifters guided me through the facility. Becky marched in front and Vernon behind, so they had me covered from both angles. I kept my eyes on her ass as it sashayed back and forth. She wasn’t doing it on purpose, she just had that type of ass where she couldn’t help it. Vernon growled behind me, and I could tell he knew I was watching; so, I just stared harder. I imagined getting all up in that. I’d never participated in a rim job, but I might be willing to chance the chocolate factory for Sheriff Becky Nice-Ass.

I might have respected Agent Dud once upon a time; at least enough not to eye fuck his girl right in front of him, but that ended when he shot me, and let Frank stick his fingers up my ass.

We went up a few floors and started to see people. My training with Xamira, Lark, and Peter emphasized keeping an eye on my surroundings, and conducting threat assessments. These people looked like typical office drones, and by the way they hugged the walls as we passed, they weren’t a threat to anyone. Eventually, I saw light streaming through office windows. I’d been picked up in Vegas after dinner, so at least twelve hours had passed. I felt refreshed, which meant it was likely more.

I didn’t know where they were taking me, but eventually, we ended up in front of a large wooden door. A secretary stood sentry, but didn’t look me in the eye.

“I don’t have cooties,” I said loudly. “I’m not some disease you can catch.”

“Shut up,” Vernon pushed me through the door, but closed it without following.

“Now that’s a hell of a view,” I gaped as I looked out over New York City.

“Please, sit down, Mr. Dupree,” I jumped as an old lady stepped away from a bookshelf to my right. I really needed to work on my nerves, and avoid obvious distractions.

I decided to play it respectfully. Vernon was a douche, but I shouldn’t fuck with anyone else I didn’t know; first impression and all that. I took the offered seat, and an offered cup of coffee.

“Thank you, ma’am,” I nodded in gratitude as the warmth of the liquid blossomed in my gut.

“You’re welcome,” she took a seat behind the desk, and I got a good look at her.

This was a tough old biddy; one of those old school, OG grandmother types who did the whole Rosey the Riveter deal when men went off to war. She held herself with easy confidence despite all the wrinkles and age splotches. I was also ninety-nine percent sure there was some sort of weapon pointed right at my junk, so I played it cool.

“My name is Evelyn Winters, I’m the Director of the United Nations Worldwide Registration Response Division,” she smiled, but the introduction felt like a lump of iron falling into my gut.

As far as a good chunk of the world was concerned, this lady was literally the devil. Not like Lark was the historical reference for Lucifer; Ms. Winters was the embodiment of all the evil and suffering that people laid at the WRA’s feet.

I wasn’t naïve enough to buy into all the propaganda. People did shit all the time that had nothing to do with the WRA, but sitting here, in front of her, made me feel just how deep in the shit I was. I knew that sounded stupid. A SWAT team had literally stormed a building and shot me on sight. It shouldn’t get more serious than that, but this was the fucking Boss.

I tried to reply, but my mouth was suddenly drier than Death Valley. “Um . . .yeah,” I worked up enough saliva for that genius response.

She just smiled at me, and I felt like she was about to lure me into her gingerbread house and bake me into a pie. “Do you know why you’re here, Mr. Dupree?”

“That thing in New York,” I wasn’t stupid enough to give any specifics, and she caught that.

“Among other things,” she inclined her head in a respectful nod. “You are something new to this world. We don’t know what you are, where you came from, what you’re capable of, or if you’re a danger to everyone around you.”

“I was born here,” my mouth was moving before I could stop myself. “I’ve lived here for eighteen years without any serious shi . . . I mean stuff happening. I don’t know what I am, and sure, okay, maybe I’ve done some stupid stuff, but I don’t want to hurt anyone. It seems like everyone wants to hurt me. I’m just trying to survive.”