Chapter 4

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Nixon's POV

"Did we do that?" I asked, staring at the surveillance footage that had been brought to my office, "did we make him do that?"

"No, sir." Replied Sergeant Royce, one of the two who was watching over Izazya for me. "That would be the side effects of the drugs he's been taking."

I leaned back in my chair. "Right..." I answered quietly, tapping my fingers on the desk. I was deep in thought, trying to find a way to get him out of this easily. But, best friend or not, this was going to be difficult, and I couldn't afford to start being nice. "Is there anything we can do, Sergeant?"

"We could ask a medic to come take a look at him, sir. My apologies, but I'm an expert with firearms - I don't do this sorta' stuff." Royce took a step back as I stood up, hitting Play for the third time.

"That may be our best option. Get me Daniel Maycliffe, ASAP." I nodded to Royce as he nodded and turned, leaving the room and closing the door quietly behind himself.

I stood and studied the footage again, watching Izazya as he dropped onto the floor and went into doing the first of the twenty push ups. On the third, he seemed to react as if a weight had been placed on him. I cocked my head to the side, replaying it once again. Yes, definitely looked weighted.

"He's hallucinating," I muttered. "He's not crazy, he's just hallucinating." I smiled, sitting back in my seat and waiting for the medical team to arrive in my office.

Lucky for me, they didn't take too long. Fifteen minutes later, there was a sharp knock on the door, before it opened, and in stepped Maycliffe and his team of medical officers. He stood tall, a good two inches taller than my six foot two frame. His dark skin was beaded with sweat, and his dark chocolate eyes were questioning.

"Mr Denail," Maycliffe aknowledge, nodding his head towards me."

"Doctor Maycliffe, the pleasure is mine. Have a seat." I motioned to the seat opposite my desk. He walked slowly, before placing himself in the chair. His medical team swarmed around him, taking out their clip boards and pencils.

"And what can I do for you, sir?" Maycliffe asked politely, folding his arms across his partly discoloured white lab coat.

I smiled, dropping my head slightly. "Well, you see... One of my men." I cleared my throat. "He has a slight, what shall we call it?" I mused.

"Addiction, by any chance?" One of the medical team asked, before the rest glared at her with an accusing look. I looked at her, smiling slightly. She looked vaguely familiar

"And what's your name, sweetheart?" I asked.

"J-Jennifer." She stuttered. "Jennifer Delilah Oakes, sir."

I smiled immediately. "You know me. And you know him, correct?" I asked, beconning her towards me. She stepped forwards, nodding curtley. "And you know of his situation, how?"

"My mother told me, sir." She replied quietly, her head dropping to the floor; her eyes concentrating on anything but me. I nodded, turning my attention back to Doctor Maycliffe.

"As your student rightly said, doctor, he has an addiction." I sighed heavily, pouring myself a drink. "A drug addiction." Scratch, scratch scratch, went those pencils as all the medical team wrote down my words, a few of them expressing their disgust through small noises. I didn't let it get to me.

"I see," said the doctor, musing to himself. "Any problems right now?"

"Hallucinations. Shaking and crying." I replied simply, taking a sip of the scotch I'd poured into the small crystal glass. He nodded slowly. "And in case you hadn't guessed, I need you to sort him out. Preferably in the shortest amount of time possible."

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