MACHINE LUNGS: rewrite

Chapter 3

I pull the ends of hair forward and examine them. "Guilty as charged." She stops walking and I continue on a few steps before turning back to her thinly disguised terror. "I'm the government's rabid animal that needs to be put down."

She stares at me with uncertainty. I use Bavs to instantly bring up her file and her name. Within seconds, Margaret Lavin's entire existence is laid out for me to see. It's not a very exciting existence- she has been quite the every obedient citizen. Well, not counting her abundance of parking tickets.

"Thanks for the company, Margaret." I snap my jaws at her teasingly. "You might want to pay those parking tickets off." I send her a wink, and we stop outside of Bleck's office. She takes a step back, and watches me with wide, terrified eyes. I chuckle, and push open the door.

"Hello darling, I'm home!" I sing as I close the soundproof door behind me. Bleck's office is the only visually exciting place in this bore of an entirely white facility. Three of the walls are a slate grey, while the one directly behind his desk is covered in a large world map. There are different pins and strings marking off points of interest or linking together leads in elaborate patterns. The room smells faintly of leather due to the matching chair and sofa set. The carved mahogany desk is piled high with immaculately stacked papers, and a stainless steel lamp sits on the left corner.

All in all, Bleck's office is masculine, keen, and expensive- just like him.

The middle aged man is typing away on his sleek laptop that sits on a table placed to the right of his desk facing the slate grey wall, and ignores me entirely. I roll my eyes and plop down in one of the leather seats. This is a game of dominance we play- the first one to crack verbally loses. Usually, I'm the first to crack. The silence cuts through me like a knife, but I know today's subtle battle needs to have a different outcome. I am already treading on a thin rope, and any mistake- no matter how ludicrous- could lead to a needle injected at the jugular of my neck, and, consequently, the eternal blackness the fatal injection promises.

I reach across his perfectly stacked pile of paper and swipe up one of his costly fountain pens. I kick my feet up on top of his desk and start clicking the writing device with passion. I try different patterns, and he doesn't snap until I attempt clicking out twinkle twinkle little stars.

The typing pauses, and I press my lips together to stop a victorious smile. Bleck closes his laptop with a gentle click. He slides his large leather chair to face me and his desk. With a scowl he stands up to shove my feet off the mahogany, and rip the pen out of my hands.

"Do have no respect you mannerless contagion?" He snarls, as he leans towards me in a threatening manner. His fists are clenched by his sides, and his jaw is ticking.

"My, my, someone is rather testy today." I lean back in my chair with a lazy chuckle, and a grin with satisfaction at my victory in ruffling his feathers. "Lady troubles again, Bleck? Or is Aunt Flow here to visit, again?" I give him a fake pout.

He shoots me a feral grin and slowly sits down. "Mock me all you wish, you are only in succeeding in chipping away at your deplorable excuse of a life."

"You wound me, Bleck."

"I would much rather end you." He sits back in his chair, and I find myself mildly irritated at his ability to swallow his anger to easily. It shouldn't surprise me, as he has been in the business of lying and conniving far longer than myself. He is the perfect agent with his constantly calculating eyes that resemble a storm cursed sea, and deep brown hair gelled into immovable perfection. I would consider him handsome, if he was around twenty years younger and not obsessed with wiping me off the face of the earth. But, in all honesty, could I blame him?