A Slice of Fiction by Charles Webb

Watson

I picked up my head from the table and tried to wipe the blood from my nose on my shoulder. My hands were bound together with the cold pinching steel that could only be handcuffs. The room that I was in was clad in hard corrugated metal and had one wall that seemed to be a one way window. The table was also metal and was now slick from the blood coming from my face.

When I had first woken up I was in a sandstone cell with a huge obsidian door and only a bucket for cleanliness. This bucket had turned out to be very helpful as the first thing I did was give up my meager breakfast. There must have been some sort of camera or peephole that my captors were watch me through because even before I could spit the taste of bile out of my mouth I was thrown roughly into a golf-cart and driven through miles of tunnels to the room I was to be interrogated in.

As I looked up and saw another meaty fist racing towards my face I flinched and heard a weak attempt at a gruff voice,” Enough!” As soon as these words made it to the monstrous eardrums of my “interrogator” his fist stopped dead within millimeters of my face, and with patience born obviously from the fear of his master he walked to the other man.

“What? Are you scared that a guy tied to a chair is going to beat you up?” I yelled as I spat out another tooth. As the monster of a man walked out of the room, he emitted a low growl that would have made Hulk Hogan wet his pants.

“It is unwise to antagonize Igor,” said the man now standing in front of the table with a slightly Mexican accent. He was short and stocky but walked like he thought he was ten feet tall. I thought that I recognized him from somewhere but could not remember his name, which was scary because I should know all of the people that I might even have a chance to see from the brief I was given but it wasn’t my first rodeo with faulty intelligence. From the clothes that he was wearing and his diamond encrusted gold watch he was probably one of the billionaires whose methods I had been investigating before the bike “accident”.

“Oh yeah, and why’s that short stuff?”I snapped, and felt a little warm blood trickled down my chin. With my clothes already torn up and dirty from the motorcycle crash and the long hours I’d spent in the cell, I must have looked pretty bad by now.

“Because he can only be controlled while I am around.”

“Well is that so?” I said,” So what do you feed Tonto over there huh?”

“He owes me his life.” He responded flatly.

“Aww well isn’t that cute. What did you do, raise him from a small ogre?”

“That attitude will only get you another round with Igor.”

“No, please don’t make me sit here and get beaten to death,” I said sarcastically, my words sloshed together by my stunning lack of teeth and amount of blood in my mouth. “I’d rather die honorably by your hand Dr. Frankenstein.”

“My name is Alexander,” he said angrily through clenched teeth.”Igor!” he yelled

As my swollen lips were beginning to form the words of another smart remark I felt an eighteen wheeler slam into the back of my head. Then the little people in my eyes decided to have the Fourth of July early and as the explosions blocked out the cold metal room around me and I fell into the invitingly peaceful darkness I could just see the outlines of Igor and Alexander as they threw me into the trunk of a car. Also as I blacked out I realized that they had been stupid enough to leave me with my watch and now I had a fighting chance.