It had been a long day at the police station for Hoffman, even longer than normal, his eyes constantly straying to the clock in his office, counting down the seconds rather than concentrating on the paperwork in front of him. Granted, he never did much work anyway, or at least, never did any work that advanced the case, but his mind was far too preoccupied with thoughts of Amanda, of those two pink lines to confirm what he’d hoped for, of the child that would be in only nine months.
It’s a girl. It has to be a girl. Just like- “Angie,” he whispered, turning to stare at the photograph behind his desk. Imagine that, though. A sweet little girl, dark, dark hair, dark blue eyes, vibrant, quick to smile... such a cute smile, too... And this time, this time, you can care for her, you can make sure she grows up the right way, won’t go out with- with scum, make sure she has a long, happy life.
A soft smile hit his lips at the thought of a daughter, one that had a fifty-fifty chance of existing. He had thought about a son, a little, miniature version of himself to carry on his surname but it was always the image of a small girl, her eyes wide in curiosity about the world, he kept coming back to.
Although, while he did enjoy the thought of the future as of nine months, he was slightly more concerned with the immediate future. Staring down at another ‘missing person’ report, thoughts of what would happen if his cover was blown, how his child would be in the hands of a whining, suicidal bitch- Or, worse, what would happen if they caught up with the aforementioned whining, suicidal bitch... If they discovered the fact that she was more than just ‘whining’ and ‘suicidal, if they added ‘homicidal’ to the list... All the things that could go wrong, stemming from that...
The thoughts of the danger coming from her still working in the warehouse kept attacking him throughout the day, not helped by the announcement he had waiting back at the Gideon Building.
“Mark, I require your assistance in setting up another game.”
And how exactly is this meant to be new? “Sure. Just tell me the subject-”
“This game differs from our previous work. Instead of a single subject, or two sharing a game, this one shall feature several.”
Well, isn’t that a step forward. “Hold on, how does that work-”
“Quite simply, the game takes place inside one of the residential properties, as opposed to another warehouse; a toxic nerve agent will be ventilated into the house at such a rate that the eight subjects within the house will succumb within two hours, while the exit unlocks in three. In order to survive, the subjects must find, and go through, tests around the house, the end of which will feature an antidote to combat the nerve agent.”
“Anyone in mind? I mean, there’s a gang, skinheads, down-”
“Remind me, Mark, of the concerns you had regarding a Detective Eric Matthews.”
“...Matthews? He’s no longer on the case. Something to do with his divorce, from what I can gather.” If by ‘divorce’ I mean, ‘those late, late nights working overtime with Kerry, leading to his son being whisked away in settlement claims’.
“Never mind that. You told me about this... divorce a few weeks earlier, mentioned a weakening relationship with his son.”
“Yes... So, you’re... you’re going to put them in the house? Some kind of reunion via surviving this... trap house?”
“Not quite. I’ve... been working on an idea, of sorts; the son-”
“-Daniel-”
“-Daniel goes through the tests in the house with seven of his father’s convictions, convictions gained unjustly, from what we can gather. The entire game will be filmed via security cameras, and, by the end, the son, Daniel, will be transported to... say...”
“Wilson Steel?”
“The Wilson Steel warehouse, to be kept, sedated, while we bring in Eric Matthews, showing the footage. If he can keep control of himself, and stay there for the optimum of two hours, he will be reunited with his son.”
“...Wait. What if Daniel... doesn’t win the game?”
“He will.”
“I’m just thinking of possibilities here-”
“Amanda will make sure he will. She will be tasked to-”
“Amanda. You’re putting Amanda into danger? Willingly, into danger? Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking Christ.”
“You seem upset about this decision to-”
“You’re goddamn right I’m upset! Fuck this game! Fuck your goddamn work! Shit, Matthews can be tested, his son can be tested, but Amanda is not going into the house, you hear me? She is going to stay right here, where it’s safe, alright? She is not going to be put into a fucking death-trap, just for your sick power-fantasies, you can’t kill my child-” Hoffman broke off, a growing sense of dread filling him as the last words out of his mouth caught up with him. Oh... shit.
“Child?”
“Amanda... she’s- I- we kind of- I can explain.” The pause provided seemed to give him more than enough reason to stop talking, but, then again, it would have been worse if he didn’t take this brief opportunity to give his side of the argument.
“Amanda... well... Amanda is carrying my child.”
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