Your allegiance is to the council and to my decision, which is made. This is the best option, for all of us,” Wade said.

Meyer left Charlie's mind, slumping into his chair. Hand over their control? How had that ever been agreed? And the records? Their secrets were the only thing that gave them any leverage with the likes of Helena. If Wade gave everything away, there would be no bargaining chips left. As much as Meyer hated him, Wade wasn't stupid, there must be a bigger play at hand, but what that was... The other big question was why had Wade brought Ruth and him here in the first place? Meyer had assumed it was for another job, but if it was in connection with this, then nothing good would come of it.

“We are in deep trouble, aren't we?” Ruth said.

“That, my dear, might be quite the understatement.”

- Chapter 6 -

Revelations

The car braked suddenly, sending Henry crashing from the back seat into the foot well. He lay awkwardly, a prisoner in his own body, completely unable to move as an acidic warmth spread through his skin. Static crackled through the radio, drowning the car in constant noise.

Borrowed dreams swept through Henry’s mind, knocking aside his concentration as they flew. What did this guy want with him? He didn't have a lot of money and certainly couldn't be considered important. He didn't even have any knowledge that made him valuable, unless you considered his perfect recollection of every episode of the television series The Big Bang Theory. Henry’s thoughts flipped back to the creature reflected in the mirror, a world away from his current predicament, although it still played on his mind. Too much stress, that must be it. Life isn't easy when every social interaction is like preparing for a bungee jump. The conclusion had to be that he had broken, that life had finally become too much to handle. Maybe all of this was just a fantasy of his mind's creation and he was on his way to some psychiatric hospital. Was that a comforting thought? Do crazy people know they are crazy? It probably wasn't politically correct to call crazy people crazy, someone had probably coined another term for it: mentally perturbed perhaps? Henry wondered if crazy people considered that as well.

“Two is down,” said a voice piercing through the static.

“Damn,” said the driver of the car, his accent stereotypically London, which gave the whole situation a feel of a cab journey from a nightmare. Henry really needed to step down his imagination, it certainly didn’t help calm him.

“Four is down,” the voice from the speakers said again.

“Christ, where we supposed to go now?”

“Under?”

“Rosy, you joking? We won't last five minutes.”

“Under,” repeated the voice across the radio, but this time not as a question.

An endless chain of profanities and expletives filled the car, which told Henry wherever 'Under' meant, it wasn't good. At some point, he lost consciousness again, dreams tearing at his sanity as he lay defenceless against them.

A cold breeze against Henry’s neck was the first sign he had that they’d stopped, followed by the hand clasping the scruff of his shirt as he was pulled from the car. He fell maladroitly onto the pavement, his head impossibly heavy while his mind remained in his semi-unconscious trance. Henry forced himself up, but reached only the shoes of the man in front of him before his body gave way again. He lay powerless at the heels of the man he assumed to be the driver and his kidnapper. With another sting to the neck, a needle pierced into his veins, releasing a slurry of ice that chased the fire from his blood.