Cognitive Deviance

55. Rabbit Hole Part 3

Margo looked around at the additional room. Beige-colored, peeling walls tinted a ghostly green by the fluorescent lights above them. Several dozen boxes littered the floor, some vacant while others had their contents sealed away with tape. The room itself was like a box, compact and claustrophobic, as if used on only the rarest of occasions. On the opposite side of the room was another door, the bathroom Jack was in.

The hard, thunderous slams against the door only reassured Margo of their vulnerability down there.

"Slater," she said in a cracking voice, "ask Mason what Jack is doing."

"He's fucking up my bathroom, is what he's doing," Slater replied, taking the piece from his ear and shuffling it between his fingers. "Apparently, after getting most of his BufferSuit off to take a piss, he started jacking off in front of the mirror to spite your colleagues back at HQ. So now they're putting those implants of his to good use and roughing him up a bit."

Jack's anguish sounded louder and louder, to the point Margo suspected he was on the verge of fracturing something. But when the beating stopped, Margo heard him slide down the door to the filthy ground beneath him. The lock clicked, and the door opened.

Margo saw Jack resting on the floor, propped against the wall, blood seeping out of his nostrils and lip. His BufferSuit was baggy, no longer clinging to his skin because of its deactivation required before removal. The air was cruel to him, vacating his body with harsh sounds, as if dirt made its way into his lungs. He gripped his mask in his right hand, swinging it side to side like a fan. He had no goal in mind. No impulse to substitute for that lack of goals. Just fatigue clouding his system and his mind.

"Damn," Slater chuckled. "Kinda amusing Psychwatch has to resort to getting you to kick your own ass. Jerking off in their face was an interesting way to retaliate, though."

"Fuck you," Jack muttered. Clawing into the wall beside him, he hoisted himself to his feet, fitting his gloves back on and reactivating the suit. The mask remained by his side for the moment, giving Slater a clear glimpse of the building rage and blinking lights in his eyes.

"I knew it," Mr. W said, staring at Jack.

"Knew what?" Margo asked, but all that came back to her was silence, the rabbit man maintaining a statuesque stillness.

"Yeah, he spaces out a lot," Slater said. "I almost thought of nicknaming him Mr. Ambiguity because of it. But Mr. W just stuck." He snapped his fingers. "Which reminds me: fetch a rolling table from the lab."

Mr. W marched out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

"What's the rolling table for?" Margo asked.

"It's how we take the Wonderland to the clubbers," Slater said. "And as for the Wonderland..." He stepped forward, gesturing his hands towards the boxes surrounding them. "It's all around us."

Margo examined the boxes once more, far more intrigued now that she knew of their content. She nudged the closest one to her with a light kick, lurching backwards at the sound of jingling glass objects within the box. When she returned her sights to Slater, he chuckled once more, nodding his head to remind her that the moment was real. She was surrounded by one of the most lucrative, extralegal substances in recent memory.

"Mason wants you to open a box," Jack growled at Slater. "And give Sandoval her piece back."

"Yeah, give me a second," Slater said, clearing his throat, and the piece was back in his ear once more. "Hello again, Janice! I'm sure you'd like to talk to Miss Sandoval, but I'm afraid I must ask permission to hold on to her ThoughtControl piece just a little while longer."