Confinement – by Monika Hocks

The narration continued.

‘Subject B was far stronger than we expected, and instead of relenting, her mind broke.’

‘Ooo, nasty,’ Donnie murmured. ‘I wonder if you can get health insurance for that?’

‘Further attempts to re-educate will be performed, but at time of writing, chances of success are not high.’

Well, that explained the dribbling, mused Donnie.

‘Presentation ends. All hail Monsieur Bleu.’

The screen went black.

‘Well, that was about as enlightening as any presentation I’ve ever seen,’ Donnie murmured. He shuddered, the image of the mans operation still fresh.

He put the laptop back where he’d found it and picked up the stun rod once more. None of the instruments on the table would have given him any advantage over an attacker unless they’d been first drugged then lain out on the table.

He left them for the experts and continued onward.

The corridor ended in a junction, above which was a small round camera which seemed fixed on the intersection, its cyclops eye staring and recording everything. Below the camera was a sign:

Donnie glanced up at the camera, and resisted the urge to give his fans a confident grin.

Left again? Why not.

He was on the verge of turning the corner when his senses screamed at him to stop. Never one to argue with himself, he sidled up to the wall and peeked around the corner. Two guards were heading his way.

Great.

Straightening up, he smoothed back his hair and took a deep breath. The reassuring weight of the stun-rod hung from his waist and he suddenly regretted breaking its previous owners head; he might have been able to tell Donnie more about this place.

Donnie stepped into the junction just as the guards did the same.