Guts And Glory

ACT V: CHAPTER THIRTEEN: MAKE UP YOUR MIND

***

The guard hands her a mobile phone and an engagement ring, he says—beneath his thick, messy, unmaintained, honestly, they're letting anyone in nowadays beard—it's the only things he had when they bought him in. He continues, the guard, making small-talk, of how it's so peculiar, because usually, he natters, guys like Troy—rich guys, more money than sense guys—carry a load of useless shit on their person at any given time. Piper's not surprised, it's Troy, he's no thrills unless necessary, and having the police pounding on the front door doesn't require the Rolex.

"Are these all of his things?" Piper asks again, looking down at what's in her hands. She wants to believe that there's more, that there's more to Troy's entire existence, that an engagement ring isn't where it ends, and that there might be something that Piper's given him—a sign that he hasn't forgotten the game master during his leave.

"Yes, ma'am." The guard nods, brutish features remaining flat. "He didn't come in with a lot," he repeats. "Are you ready to get him now?"

"Let's get it over with then."

The guard—his badge says Zadro—begins leading the way through the dimly-lit corridors, talking all the while, as though that will remove the slight pinch to Piper's face. "He's lucky he's got friends in high places, ma'am. He was looking at a good ten years here. No one's come to visit him. Would have got lonely. Through here, ma'am. He's just being processed. Have a good day ma'am." He bids her goodbye.

Piper nods her head, "You too."

Troy rolls back his shoulders as he steps through the doorframe, now a free man. His hair is limp, greasy and lifeless, a sombre shade of grey compared to the bright blonde. He's also growing out a beard, patchy with some sections lighter than others, He looks so much like a serial killer he's obviously not one. "Oh, look, honey," he calls, snarl on his face at the sight of Piper in her trench coat and nude heels. "The cavalry has arrived. Do I have you to thank for a dead fiancée and a doomed existence with you as Queen?"

She draws herself up, sniffing in disdain. "I made a promise, Troy. Felix knew what he was agreeing to."

"I doubt that," Troy scoffs, Felix never having been that bright to have known what he was agreeing to. "You know how bad Felix was at playing your games. You had an unfair advantage—all those new minions you've got now. Tell me, do I get to meet my replacement? He must be very obedient," he sneers.

"We'll discuss it once you're settled in. Appearances must be kept, honey—you know that."

***

Annie and Jesse are waiting at the old flat for the pair to make an arrival. Eric had thought it a good idea for Troy to firstly interact with people he knew, familiar faces, he'd said—conveniently forgetting that they are now dubbed as traitors and Troy would have learnt how to behave himself around strangers. Piper enters her old flat behind Troy, wanting to ensure he doesn't try and make a run for it at the last hurdle, closing the door behind her with a definitive bang to disrupt the silence.

Jesse stands up at the sight of Troy, moving forward to greet him in a way they'd perfected years ago, before he catches himself in the act and remembers all that's transpired. His mouth opens and closes, struggling to grasp onto the correct words to say in his surfer-dude-gnarly-man tone. "Troy," he sputters, "it's been a while, huh?"

Piper's cringe is strong, turning to the kitchen area, out of the firing line—her time in the ring completed. "Jesse," Troy sniffs, looking down his nose at the man taller than him, "good to see who wears the trousers in your relationship. Piper shuns me," he shrugs, "I expect Annie to follow close behind—but you as well?" Troy shakes his head.