history of the problematic

[munchausenbyproxy]

"This is Doctor Denzien Conolly. I'm calling because I need access to the medical records of Brenna McCullah, middle initial F."

"Good morning, Doctor Conolly. McCullah...yes, I have that file available. Because of HIPPA regulations, I can't fax or mail you the information, you'll have to come into the records office to pick it up."

"That's fine, I'll be there in half hour. Tell me, how far back does the file date?"

Pause.

"Looks like...wait, there's a piece missing, but from early childhood."

"What dates are missing?"

"Two years, from six to eight. The paperwork isn't in the file."

"Damn. Do me a favor and see if you can find another file. Ask one of the doctors there to check the confidentials. Please have everything ready."

"It's ready, Doctor. Please bring the proper identification with you. Good day."

Click.

<font color="#ECE6CA" size="1">[ February 06, 2005 04:12 PM: Message edited by: munchausenbyproxy ]</font>

[munchausenbyproxy]

The Alley


Of course, there were negative aspects of being oblivious.

Walking along and minding her own business as usual, eyes were cast down and mind was distanced to far and away -- the hand that crept over her shoulder was surprising -- there wasn't time for a struggle as she was dragged from the sidewalk and into the alley. Darkness consumed, pulling her inside along with the other bodies present, only they seemed to be controlling the ebony waves.

<center>* * * * *</center>


Camilla, ever ready and willing to confront was on her way now to have words with those troublesome's who wouldn't back the hell down. Enough was enough already, she was tired of the games and bullshit riddles thrown their way. Final piece was placed on the game board; she was planning on a checkmate.


<center>* * * * *</center>


"What the fuc--" Massive fist connected with her face, forcing her head to turn while spittle flew and dripped, sliding down her chin and dropping onto her shirt. The next hit came hard and fast, the slug to her middle had her doubling over and gasping for air. Spin of the one to her left, his heel shoving against her ribs had her flying into the brick wall of the building; she hit then slid to the ground. Palm pressed against the dirty cement while mouth leaked the crimson fluid that'd stain for some time.

Repeated kicks to her side came, quieting her beyond quiet and the lack of oxygen in now burning lungs made it near impossible to cry out.

At least they weren't hitting her face.


<center>* * * * *</center>


Cam was out the door, out the building, to next door she went. The Browning was in its shoulder holster, but it was clipped into place. She wouldn't be needing it tonight, hopefully. Just a chat, a small conversation to see how things were going.

<center>* * * * *</center>


"Not talking now, huh bitch?" Another kick, this time to the side of her head, had her screaming with pain and rage. Something inside shifted -- she growled low from somewhere in her throat -- mouthful of blood was spat angrily, landing on the unknown's shoe tip.

"Fuck...you.."

Feet dug into the pavement, as did fingers which bled from nails cracking and pulling free. She launched herself forward, using the wall for support as she moved and shoulder was sent into the midsection of the one nearest. He flew back taking her right along with him, only she was stopped in flight as her hair was grabbed from behind. Ganked back and away, arms were held tightly even as she continued to struggle.

Two moved forward, setting on her with such an angry hatred that she was positive this time she wouldn't pull through with the not so subtle warning. A series of blows hit her body, one of them was using..a piece of wood. Skin was splintered, cracked open to enable exposed flesh to have a little feel. Sharing was good.

<center>* * * * *</center>

By the time Cam pushed through the unlocked door of the room he was in, he was sitting in a chair. Languidly smoking a cigarette in the dim lighting that had appeared via lamp. A hat was tipped low over his brow, only exposing the chiseled line of his jaw, and the curve of his mouth to her.


<center>* * * * *</center>


"Stop. Stop, Goddamn it, you'll kill her!" One hand shot out to grab at the other's arm and hold; he wasn't letting go.

"So what? Crazy bitch deserves it, especially since her little friend fucked up Doctor B--"

Cell phone rang, one answered, and the news delivered would be alarming. Wasn't the broad who killed the good doctor after all...

"Leave her for now. I'll see her in a couple of days when she shows up for the next appointment," came the throaty voice, so familiar.

She couldn't move and could barely breathe, but her ears weren't yet destroyed.

"Why? Where're we goin' next?" Third stepped toward the girl and shoved his foot against her hip, sending her rolling onto her back. Even now he wouldn't mind having a little feel of her.

"The astronomer, we'll need to visit. Maybe share a beer and exchange some stories," he laughed, the sound sour and stale.

"Works for me, Doctor Co--"

"Shut up, you idiot!" he hissed, reaching out to slap the man's face. "Wait for me in the car, I'll be right there. Go. Now."


<center>* * * * *</center>


Cam's voice didn't sound like her own. Not the melodious alto that people drove for miles and miles to hear. It was an empty flat sound, holding no tone, no inflection. He shoved the hat back from his face as she shut the door, hands going out at her sides to show she wasn't holding a weapon. Brief exchange of words would have her realizing almost too late what the hell was really going on; time was very much alive and stopping for no one.


<center>* * * * *</center>


"Breeeeeenna?" His voice was whispery soft and smooth. And very close. She couldn't open her right eye at all, it was swollen shut and probabaly as purple and blue as anything. She'd have to remember to wear clothes that matched.

"Brenna..wake up," a hand slid over her stomach and upward, slowly. Fingers groped where they shouldn't, causing her to recoil and blanch.

"Stop touching me, you prick.."

The front of her shirt was grabbed as he pushed to stand, dragging her along the cement to behind the dumpster. Cam was going to go ballistic about the heels of these shoes getting all scraggy and ruined; nothing looked more sloppy than a bad pair of shoes, even if they were just sneakers. Her back was pushed against the wall with such a force that she lost her breath again. Both his fists were sent to her chest, fingers curling around the material of her shirt once more and his knuckles pressed to just under her chin.

"Tell me..his fucking..name, Brenna." He knew she realized it was him now, no need to try to cover it up -- he wanted her to know.

"Don't know..what you're talkin' about.." she mumbled, spitting out a piece of her lip. Christ! That...h u r t.

Handful of hair was grabbed he pulled her forward, sending his knee against her stomach. After she was done gasping, her back was shoved to the wall once more.

"His name. Now." He drew one hand back, making a fist.

"Max," she stated, numbly. "Don't. Fucking. Touch. Him. Or I swear to God..."

His smile was slow and almost warm looking and he dipped his head forward to brush his lips against her neck. "You don't give a shit about him. Tell me."

"I don't give a shit about him," she whispered. "I frickin' dig him though."

She screamed like never before when his teeth sank.


<center>* * * * *</center>


The only reply was the door slamming shut, and then her form racing across the road back to her building. No lights flickered on to announce her return. Because she didn't return. While he was busy wiping the spit from his shoe, the brief moment his head was down, she ducked to the side of the building and headed down the street, towards where Bren was staying.

Please don't let me be too late.

The words the man had said, about her being alone, she couldn't take them at face value right now. If Bren didn't care for her, that was alright-- Cam wasn't going to let the woman be killed regardless. Ducking through the alleyways, eyes swept over the area, trying to see if there was any sign..

"BREN? BREN ARE YOU AROUND HERE?"

Hoarse whisper turned frantic scream, the pace picked up from a stride to a jog as she searched.

"BREN!!! WHERE..."

Steps slowing.

"...are... "

Hands going up so that fingers could tangle in her hair.

".. you..? ..."


<center>* * * * *</center>


The cold was overwhelming. One leg had somehow managed its way under the large dumpster, the other was bent back, causing the prickle of tingles to start ebbing through her hip. Cheek was pressed against the pavement as were chest and stomach -- eyes stared forward, unblinking.

Crazy as it sounded, she wanted a beer. Right..fucking..now.

Faces flashed through her mind, made her smile, and for a brief moment...she could swear she heard Cam's voice somewhere in the distance.

[munchausenbyproxy]

The weekends were always so much fun. It was time for him to play at the Note as well as relax with Bren, which made them even better. However, this weekend was very peculiar. That's because Cam didn't show up to work at all which had the owner questioning him, like Max knew anything. But the fact Cam was not showing up did bother him a lot because Bren had said she was with the woman. Now that it was Sunday night and he hadn't seen either woman he really started to feel that unsettling butterfly in his gut. Something was wrong. Back at his apartment there was no messages and Bark was crying to go out for a walk, so he set worry aside for a moment to walk the poor puppy.

A few hours passed and the sound of the door opening caught his attention. The sight was even more alarming. Both women looked bad but Bren looked dead.

"Fuck."

_________________________


<center>Our father, who art in Heaven
Hallowed be Thy name</center>

Faith. Faith was a funny thing when you're in need of help, and sometimes even nonbelievers found themselves talking to God in a silent plea for divine intervention of some kind. Oddly, when or if it didn't come, those same people were generally the ones who gave into doubt and disdain. Not getting your way didn't mean that the truths weren't present; perhaps it was time to step back and reevaluate...

_________________________


Turning off the television he jumped from the couch and stared as Cam dropped Bren onto it then walked right back out without a word. Nothing. What the fuck was up with that?! Looking at the bloody mess that was Bren, he blinked several times then actually realized the severity of the situation. This wasn't the work of the Horde. She wouldn't have been alive or in one piece.... it had to be those other fucks.

"Oh fuck, baby.. what.. "

Running over to the kitchen he tore open a drawer and yanked out something before running back over to her, on the way flicking his wrist so the blade swung free of the handle. Bent over her, he grabbed her shirt first and lifted it from her body.

"Don't worry, you're fine. I'll make it better."

I hope.

The blade slashed through the material like a hot knife through butter, from hem to collar. The thing was ruined anyway! Knife was then stabbed into the coffee table so his free hands could grab at her. Heels were first removed and thrown over his shoulder without care, not even thinking where she got them from since she mostly wore flip flops. Socks were next to follow, just dropped onto the floor before he started on her jeans... popping the button and opening the zipper. This is where it paid to be bigger and stronger. Pushing them down over her hips and ass to free them up a bit, he then grabbed the hems of both ankles and pulled. Jeans were dumped onto the floor unceremoniously as he was already going for her underwear. Oh they were pretty.. look how nicely they hugged that beautiful little... MAX! Jesus, focus man.

"Just relax and trust me, Bren. M'not gonna hurt ya."


_________________________


<center>Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done
On earth as it is in Heaven</center>

Surrender. Giving up wasn't an option when it came to both friend or foe, and the want to hold strong became even more necessary as the hours grew dismal and unbearingly long. Hiding meant fear and fear wasn't to be shared with the likes of the enemy, no matter what the cost.

_________________________


Fingers hooked in the waistband and he pulled them down her legs before leaving them on the sofa by her feet. Now came the hard part. Grabbing one sleeve of her shirt in one hand and the shoulder in the other, he pulled with enough force to rip the stitching apart like it was wet pasta....this was repeated with the other sleeve. Said sleeves were pulled down her arms and dropped onto the floor and left there as he ripped the shoulder stitches so the garment laid tattered beneath her. Hands gently slid beneath her back while he brought his lips to her own, placing the softest of kisses.

"Sorry about the shirt."

The hooks of her bra were undone and he used the elasticity of the garment to stretch and tug on , freeing it from her body to leave her naked and bloody on the sofa. Normally he'd love to just have her naked there. It was with the greatest of ease that he slid one arm behind her knees and the other beneath her, hefting her from the sofa and carrying her like she was a bride. Bare feet moved him quickly to the bathroom where he then laid her down in the tub and brushed the hair from her face.

"Now don't move, I'll be right back."

Hopping over the whimpering puppy he tore ass out of the bathroom and ran back into the kitchen. Fuck where did he put that shit? Drawers and cabinets were opened and rummaged through until he found was he was looking for. Aha! Grabbing the box he ran back to the bathroom, detouring only slightly to grab his zippo along the way. Box and lighter were set on the rim of the tub before he moved to the closet and started yanking out things. With an armful of supplies, he moved to the tub and dropped down onto his knees and dumped the things on the floor beside him. Time to go to work.

"This might hurt, so if it does, just scream or whatever. The neighbors will prolly think we're fucking."

A faux grin was given to her as he started milling about. First the zippo was opened and lit, set carefully onto the rim of the tub to burn while the bottles and boxers were arranged in order of their intended usage at his knees. The aforementioned box was set down on the floor and opened as well. Dixie cups, two, were placed in one another and set onto the rim of the tub and then filled with isopropyl rubbing alcohol. A pair of tweezers were put in the cup and soon followed was a single needle from the box, hooked almost in the shape of a 'U'. While those items were being sterilized he opened the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and poured it over her wounds and left it to bubble so it would clean out any infection that might be brewing. As her injuries hissed and bubbled he removed thread from the box and put it on the tub then pulled the needle out of the cup. A gauze pad was used to dry it then he stuck the tip into the flame burning from the zippo, using the blue colored portion near the bottom for the highest temperature. When the needle started getting red hot he dropped it back into the cup so it could sterilize again and cool down. Peroxide was once more poured over all her wounds to wash away the mess and again start the cleansing process.

"You hate me now but in the long run you might thank me."


_________________________


<center>Give us this day our daily bread
And forgive us our trespasses
As we forgive those who trespass against us</center>

Forgiveness. What better way to get even than to get over it and continue on as though there was no affect to another's actions? It was the sweetest revenge -- leaving a clean after taste that lingered and held -- and it could be delivered without ever speaking a word. More importantly, everyone was capable of instituting this means and it bought enough time to ensure the readiness of true retaliation. Contradictive? Perhaps. Or it could be viewed as a subtle craftiness and strategic way of thinking. What comes around goes right back around, chasing after the tails of those who started the series of unspeakable events.

_________________________


Words were whispered as he pulled the needle from the liquid and used a different gauze pad to clean and dry it. This was a stitching needle so it was obvious the next step was to thread the strand into it before setting it off to the side. The process of peroxide was repeated until her wounds no longer bubbled, meaning any toxins that had been there were forced out, so now it was time to get to the dirty work. Tweezers were removed and he started pulling out any splinters of wood or bits of gravel that were stuck in her skin. Once she was free of external debris, another washing of peroxide then he picked up the needle and thread. Leaning over the tub he begin to stitch up any wounds that may have needed it. You could tell he had done this dozens of times before as the stitching was tight and clean, meaning minimal scarring would be left in the wake of her healing. When he had her thoroughly cleaned and stitched her, he pushed the items aside and turned on the hot water, letting it run until it was getting too hot, then he kicked on the cold... the water ran until he had it at a desirable temperature. A wash cloth was grabbed from the bar in the shower and so was the antibacterial soap. Very gently he washed her from head to toe, be extremely careful around any minor cuts and scrapes and the fresh stitchings. Once her entire body was clean he turned off the water and moved away from the tub in order to grab one of those overly large towels he keeps in the closet. Spreading it out on the floor he grabbed everything not needed and packed it up to be put away. Stepping back over to the tub he easily lifted her out.

"You look so hot when wet like this, baby. Damn."

Pretend everything was cool and keep the patient relaxed. Yep.


_________________________


<center>Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil</center>
<center>Amen</center>

Leaders. They were few and far between, and they weren't always the ones standing in the front lines. They watched and listened, collecting the series of facts and happenings and tucking them away in memory to further learn the weakness as well as the strengths of others.

_________________________


Laying her down on the towel he dried her body off before using salves, gauze pads, surgical tapes, and band-aids to make sure all her wounds were properly covered. From there he used this menthol therapeutic gel he had to work it into her skin with a slow massage. This shit worked miracles for him when he played the drums, it felt cold like ice but warmed the muscles to help them relax... it would help with the ache. When she was all squeaky clean, stitched, bandaged, and ready for bed he lifted her and carried her on up to bed. Laying her down in the middle of the mattress softly then moving the comforter and sheet in order to cover her up to her neck. Whoever hurt his neck was going to die. He loved her neck. When she was all tucked in he ran downstairs to clean up the bathroom and kitchen before locking everything up tight and piling her dirty clothes in the tub. The sneakers she had been wearing where put by the door with his own pairs and finally he kissed Bark goodnight before blowing out the candles in the living room. All the cushions were removed from the sofa and taken upstairs with him. Portions of the mattress were lifted and the cushions were slid underneath it... putting her slightly reclined with lifted sides. This was for comfort and so she wouldn't roll off of the bed. Now that she was perfectly safe and settled in bed all bandaged up he ran downstairs one final time. From beneath the sink he grabbed a small cooler and went to the fridge, ice was lined along the bottom then he shoved in four bottles of water, finally filling it the rest of the way with ice so they would stay cold. The stool behind his drum set was grabbed in his other hand and for the last time tonight he would go upstairs. At the foot of the bed the stool was set and he sat his shorts covered ass onto it with the small cooler next to him. Forearms were laid on his knees and he leaned heavily upon them, folding his hands together, and now he waited. Hazel eyes stayed focused on her as he kept vigil. Lids barely blinking so he didn't miss a thing while watching her. Like this he would sit until she woke up or spoke or anything.

Even if it took........ days.

_________________________


Deliverance was coming, and it would swarm with a wrath that was tinged with vengeance and finality. Thinking shifted and opinions swayed, not faltering but changing slightly. Sometimes the quiet were the most deadly.

Sometimes those who looked deadly..really were.

<font color="#ECE6CA" size="1">[ February 10, 2005 01:42 AM: Message edited by: munchausenbyproxy ]</font>

[munchausenbyproxy]

First Impressions


It was very dark. It usually was when the Drow was roaming about. His warm breath met the atmosphere and together they formed a haze. He was stalking, he had his prey under watch for the time being, making sure that there'd be nothing between the doctor and his punishment. The Drow was skulking on the roof tops, just glancing down from the edge. He'd been waiting for a while, and finally the mouse was peeking its head from the hole. That was him. That was the doctor, Dr. Conolly.

The Drow dropped back into the shadows.

"Damn it. Damn it all." The doctor sighed. He was late getting home, and he had tried to return all the messages left in voice mail, and get questions answered on some of the paperwork he had from insurance companies. All the papers were, for the most part, bullshit that the companies made you do just to make sure you jump through the hoops, so a secretary named "Janice" could mark off all the checks in her computer file.

The doctor's hand, holding a key, was extended and heading toward the lock when the sound of a throat clearing came from behind him. The doctor jolted, just a bit startled because he hadn't heard anyone coming up, and the keys jingled as he fumbled around. He turned his head to peer over his shoulder and there behind him was a rather small form. Conolly turned around with a smile, his head tilted to the side, "May I help you, young man?"

"Young man. Fuckin' dammit..." A fist was clenched, pulled back, and the doctor's eyes widened.

"What the hell are you doin--"

He couldn't finish the sentence before the dark fist smashed into his jaw, a straight on shot that just threw him a few steps backwards and against the door of his car. The Drow was just stepping forward, shaking his hand after the blow. This was going to be the fun part, the part where someone was going to hurt.

"Wh-what the fuck..?!" The doctor started once again.

"Doctor. You've been doing things that I'm not too happy with, regarding Bren."

"Brenna.. that bi--" The doctor started, though he silenced after a hard slap to the face was delivered. His eyes were already starting to tear up from the sting in his cheek.

"Stop it. This is the only warning you get," the Drow coolly stated.

"Listen, you little puke, back the fu--"

This time the back talk earned the doctor a short rabbit punch to the stomach. Oh, the Drow was short, but he knew exactly what he was doing. The doctor was bent over, trying to suck in a lung full of breath. Of course, the doctor's now downward gaze gave him the perfect view of the Drow's trouser clad knee coming up to make contact with his nose. There was a popping sound and a slight shriek from the doctor as he fell onto his backside, and for the most part crumpled to the cold pavement of the parking lot. Blood was spilling from his now disjointed nose, pooling around his face as he was still trying to force a breath into his lungs.

"I hate it when you people, who are given a position of trust and authority, abuse your power. I suppose you're just weak and greedy, and when you get a taste of power you freak out and go all fucking crazy," the Drow chided to the fallen man as he hiked his pants up to kneel over him, tapping his fingers on the doctor's temple before continuing.

"Now.. if I hear about anything else concerning Bren -- if I hear that this gets back to her in any form of foul play, death threats or even an upset tone, I'll be back. And you can be assured that this, our first meeting, will be our best because you'll be leaving with all your parts still attached to your body."

The Drow smiled as he patted the doctor twice upon the head before snagging his hand and pressing it against the tire. A slow grin was crossed his face as his hand slipped into a pocket and returned with a small knife. A stab and a thrust had the doctor's hand and tire punctured, "Those kitchen accidents are a pain in the ass, aren't they?"

Conolly's eyes went wide as his hand moved, snagging at the knife and trying to pull it free. He tugged, but it was lodged in there quite well, the rubber of the tire holding it fast. Finally able to pull it out, the knife was freed and a hiss sounded as air started escaping. The blade was dropped to the ground and his hand was clenched protectively to his chest, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to stop his heart from beating a mile a minute.

No insults followed. Conolly's eyes slowly opened as his jaw started to jabber and twitch, and those eyes began frantically searching for his attacker as they started to swell. Nothing. Not a ghost, or a phantom. The doctor was alone, and his world was going dark around him, unconsciousness and blood loss would claim him for the time being.

The Drow's work here was done. He sent his message and he thought he'd sent it in the nicest way possible. Of course, if Cianan heard about more problems happening with the doctor, he'd make sure to eliminate the problem in the most effective way possible. This first meeting was just more of a, "Hey, how ya doin'?" than a real solution.

The first impression is the one remembered..

[munchausenbyproxy]

Take a photograph,
It'll be the last,
Not a dollar or a crowd could ever keep me here.

I don't have a past
I just have a chance,
Not a family or honest plea remains to say,

Rain rain go away,
Come again another day,
All the world is waiting for the sun.

Is it you I want?
Or just the notion,
Of a heart to wrap around so I can find my way around.

Safe to say from here,
You're getting closer now,
We are never sad cause we are not allowed to be.

Rain rain go away,
Come again another day,
All the world is waiting for the sun.

Rain rain go away,
Come again another day,
All the world is waiting for the sun.

To lie here under you,
Is all that I could ever do,
To lie here under you is all,
To lie here under you is all that I could ever do,
To lie here under you is all...

Rain rain go away,
Come again another day,
All the world is waiting for the sun.

Rain rain go away,
Come again another day,
All the world is waiting for the sun,
All the world is waiting for the sun,

All the world is waiting for the sun...

___________________

rain

<font color="#ECE6CA" size="1">[ February 12, 2005 01:58 AM: Message edited by: munchausenbyproxy ]</font>

[munchausenbyproxy]

Beginning of the End


"Hello..?"

"Yeah."

Pause.

"Brenna?"

"Yap."

"What..did you do?"

"Don't know what you're talking about."

"...bitch. What do I have?"

"Consider the symptoms."

"...tell me."

"No, you tell me. Does it hurt?"

Click.


___________________________

Shigellosis is more severe than other forms of gastroenteritis. This is because when Shigella bacteria multiply in the human gut they invade cells and result in much tissue destruction. Also, many strains produce a toxin called "shiga toxin" which is very potent and destructive. Shiga toxin is very similar to the verotoxin of E. coli O157:H7.

Shigellosis usually resolves in 5 to 7 days, although it may be several months before a victim's bowel habits are entirely normal. Complications of shigellosis include severe dehydration, rectal bleeding, and invasion of the blood stream by the bacterium.

Some persons who are infected with Shigella may later develop a syndrome that includes joint pain and swelling, irritation of the eyes, and sometimes painful urination as well. This is a reaction to the previous gastroenteritis and is called ?reactive arthritis.? It is also called Reiter's Syndrome. It occurs because of protein mimicry; basically, the immune system, intending to fight Shigella, attacks the self. Reiter's Syndrome is most common in persons with the HLA-B27 genetic makeup. Reiter's Syndrome can last for months or years, can lead to chronic arthritis, and may be difficult to treat.


____________________________


This is only the beginning -- the beginning of the end.

[munchausenbyproxy]

Volume was cranked up and the music was blaring so loudly that it had the window rattling; the steady thump of the bass resounded through the room and bounced off of the walls. Perfect. Now she was ready to work.

Gloves were slipped on, mask was donned -- she more preferred standing over sitting when being creative -- and eyes scanned over the table before her. What she did now was taken very seriously, her mind shifted, something inside clicked and she started moving so fast that those watching were sent into a downward spiral of confusion. They were ignored completely.

One slip, just one, and it was all over...

_______________________


"What the hell is she doing in there?"

Pause.

"I'm..not real sure. You pay her to work and she's working, that's all you need to worry about right now."

"Bullshit. I pay her to consult and work the numbers, not to play junior chemist."

"Listen, Meyers, you have an added benefit here. Just relax and watch."

Momentary silence.

"Fine. But when the shit hits the fan--"

"...you'll cover it up like you always do."

_________________________


[intercom] "Brenna? Entry is requested."

Pause.

"Hit the Clean room first, scrub and change...then come on inside. And be meticulous."

"So we don't become infected?"

"No. So you don't infect and fuck up what I'm doing here."

Stare.

_________________________


Music's turned down.

"Morning, Bren."

"Yap. Sure is."

Exchange of glance.

"So, what do we have here? Mr. Meyers is becoming curious."

"We have Malaria in its raw form. C'mon over and have a better look."

"....No. Thank you."

Pause.

"All these notes are hand written. Don' t you believe in computer entry?"

"Mmm..newp."

"Why's that?"

"Computers can be hacked, information can be manipulated and over controlled. Swiped."

"Ahh. So it's confidential."

"That works."

Pause.

"What's the real reason then? Want a little fame and glory, eh?"

Chuckle.

"No. I'd rather you didn't mess everything up by accidentally pushin' the wrong button."

Stiffen.

"Give us a little more credit than that, Brenna."

"Can't."

"...and, why?"

"...don't trust you."

"Remember who signs your paycheck."

Eyeroll.

"...'member who doesn't blow up or infect the entire city."

"Ruthless comes to mind."

"Survival does on this end, Mr. McCafferty."

Eye narrow.

"Don't you have an evaluation coming up for review soon?"

"Yeah. M'hopin' for a halfway decent increase this time, too."

....stare.

_________________________


"I apologize Mr. Meyers. I'll have that situation handled immediately."

"I'd say it's handling itself just fine, McCafferty. Let it go."

"..but..you said--"

"I'm aware of what I said, and now I'm saying to leave her be."

"You should rethink that, Mr. Meyers."

"..Right. Let's see, what was it you told her in there?"

Pause in stride.

"Ahhh, yes. Remember who signs your paycheck..."

"You do realize she's slightly..off...I hope?"

Snicker.

"She's right on where she needs to be, McCafferty. In my office. Ten minutes. I'd say it's time to call up the media and make our competitors sweat a little.."

"With no tested results?!"

"Open your mouth again and I'll give her permission to test on you."

Mouth opens. Mouth closes.

It's that easy..

<font color="#ECE6CA" size="1">[ February 15, 2005 12:59 PM: Message edited by: munchausenbyproxy ]</font>

[munchausenbyproxy]

"She blew up part of the lab."

"What?!"

"You heard me. She blew up part of the lab.."

"...Goddamn."

"It's frustrating, yes."

"Well, now you can fire her. Start the process."

"Will do."

[munchausenbyproxy]

Ring ring.

Pause.

Ring ring.

Pause.

RING RING.

"Hey.."

"Hey Bren. I just wanted to call an--"

"...I ain't here right now. Here being wherever 'cause this is a cell phone. I guess I could say that I'm not available, but everyone says that and it's just..boring. Crap, there was something else I wanted to add to this..but I forgot...oh! Think I'm gettin' a new number, the giant said something about hooking me up with a new phone. If this is Camilla, I'll meet up with you later..Bark! Stop yer dang yappin'! M'talking here! Anyway, I got some serious shit to tell you so try to be on time for once, huh?. Ow..I just smacked my elbow against the stupid doo--" Beep.

Stare.

Click.

[munchausenbyproxy]

Maybe he dialed incorrectly.

Nope, he didn't. Listening to the recorded message one more time, he grinned and waited for the beep to cut her off as it had earlier.

Beep.

"Brenna, hello, this is Gregg Hiatt from Tempid Corporation. A friend of mine gave me your name and suggested that I contact you in reference to an open position we currently have. If you'd like to give me a call we can discuss the details at length. My number is 555-6836. Call anytime before eight in the evening."

Click.


___________________


After listening to the message, she was curious to know which friend offered over the information.

There was only one way to find out..