>>39 >>40 Flattery will get you everywhere. _________ Fleischer's meal was drugged. He hadn't even taken the first bite of his stew, but, he could tell by the faint, bitter smell that it was drugged. It had been the first time he'd caught wind of that bitter scent since he had been moved to the pool three days before, and this time it was not Nurse Hayes, but Doctor Davis that sat across the table from him, flanked by two guards. Beschützer, displaced by a meal, and the two men on the chairs, was resting on the desk across the room. Fleischer had moved it there the moment he had heard Davis over the intercom – he didn't want the man near it. "Doctor Fleischer," Isaac started, "you haven't even picked up your spoon." The man sounded concerned and, given his posture, his expression, and his scent, it was at least a half-truth. "I'm not hungry," Fleischer quickly replied. Or, at least, he wasn't hungry for sedatives, and a trip to the operating room; he was still haunted by the visions from a few days back. He didn't need any fresh ones. Just having heard Isaac over the intercom had been enough to make his tentacles go yellow, and now, 'sitting' across from the man, those bright blue rings had revealed themselves, as well. The sound of Davis clicking his pen to make a note on his patient file was enough to draw a low, quiet growl from Fleischer. Davis looked up briefly when he heard the sound, and his guards both placed their hands on the holsters of their tranquilizer pistols. The older doctor, however, went right back to writing what was apparently only a short note. "Doctor Fleischer," he started once more, looking away from his clipboard and back to his patient. "It is imperative that we conduct an exam in order for us to repair you." 'Repair.' Not 'mend', or 'heal', or 'treat'…. but, 'repair', as though he was nothing more than a toy for Davis to play with. Fleischer gave another, louder growl at that. It was an unconscious action, but one he did not consciously try to stop or soften. One of the guards drew his pistol, and Davis quickly, quietly, ordered him to put it away. "Doctor Fleischer," he continued, "these examinations are absolutely necessary, and it is for your benefit that we provide sedation. I don't want things to be unnecessarily unpleasant for you," he added, offering a small smile. The smile was 'off', as it always was – just like the words were 'off', and Davis, as a whole, was 'off'. Something dark and primal quickly welled up in Fleischer and, before he could stop himself, he had all but lunged across the table to grab Davis by the arms, knocking the bowl of stew onto the tiled floor in the process. At the same time, a few of his tentacles whipped forward under the table to grab hold of the older man's legs. The guards didn't give their captive the chance to do any real harm, though. Two darts were fired, and both of them pierced into the man's chest. Fleischer felt the effects almost immediately – two sharp stings followed by a difficulty in keeping any kind of grip on Davis. It wasn't long before he released the man entirely, and had slumped back into his chair. The room was beginning to warp and blur, and he could only just make sense of a voice. "We need to get him out of here, quickly," Davis stated – was it Davis? "Two darts might be too much." Everything after that faded into a low, intermittent buzz – voices that could be heard, but not understood, and a pleasant, slowly pulsating hum. The sound was broken only briefly by a quiet clank, and Fleischer rather suddenly realized that he was being moved, and placed on… on something. The lights passed overhead, once more, only to eventually be blotted out by a single, much brighter one overhead. There were more voices, then – more buzzing. A few light touches were followed by intermittent, faded beeping sounds. There was a distant sort of pain – a pinch – before everything went warm, and calm, and black.