Feeding Time
Michelle grips the tray tightly and frowns as today's henchman -- what was his name, Dutch, Butch, something like that? -- fumbles with the security codes on the doorway.
"Can't you do anything right?" she snaps, balancing the tray of food on one arm and punching in the code with her now free hand. The door slides open with ease and she steps through, the lackey following close behind.
The clicks of her heels echo throughout the corridor. The further in she walks, the more the silver of wires and technological genius give way to the dark, heavy cement-walled prison where Drath kept people he didn't like. It reminded her of prison, she decided long ago, and she did not like it down here one bit.
A light flickers overhead as she comes across the correct room. She turns to Dutch. "Can you get it right this time?" she snaps, and he scowls at her, but punches in the correct code this time. The door slides open and she steps inside. The child is curled up on the bed, his back to her.
"Chow time," she tells him simply.
"Can't you do anything right?" she snaps, balancing the tray of food on one arm and punching in the code with her now free hand. The door slides open with ease and she steps through, the lackey following close behind.
The clicks of her heels echo throughout the corridor. The further in she walks, the more the silver of wires and technological genius give way to the dark, heavy cement-walled prison where Drath kept people he didn't like. It reminded her of prison, she decided long ago, and she did not like it down here one bit.
A light flickers overhead as she comes across the correct room. She turns to Dutch. "Can you get it right this time?" she snaps, and he scowls at her, but punches in the correct code this time. The door slides open and she steps inside. The child is curled up on the bed, his back to her.
"Chow time," she tells him simply.