*Knock* *Knock* *Knock*
In a place somewhere, a handsome middle aged man with well groomed hair and beard stood before a floor to ceiling window as he watched people working in front of computers.
He was sharply dressed, and he looked like the kind of person you would have a good impression of at first sight, with a composed expression and an elite's bearing. The fifty years old successful kind of elite.
Without turning his head, he replied to the one on the other side of the door in a deep voice:
"Come in."
The door was opened, and on it, a plaque with the words "Director Henry James" could be seen.
The person who came in was a slim man wearing a glass, giving the feeling of someone who worked behind a desk, like an assistant. But the straight back and measured steps still brought out some militaristic characteristics.
He stopped respectfully a few feet away from the owner of the office before talking:
"Sir, Zulu 13 is awake."
After a moment of silence, the man replied:
"He is not one of us anymore."
"Understood, sir. Any instructions?"
"Send the information to the inspection. They should already know, but it is a show of our stance. They can now give him what he deserves."
"Alright, sir."
The man left the room while doing his best to stay discreet and not disturb the serenity in the wide office.
The ones below kept working on their computers, doing the job that was theirs and making the contributions they could, while Henry James kept looking at them from the window of his office with no particular expression on his face.
_ _ _
_ _ _
Somewhere else, a beautiful woman with blond hair was leaving an elevator in an underground garage. She was dressed for night activities, with a short body hugging dress that pursued a sexy and seductive feeling, and high heels.
Walking toward one of the parked cars with obvious anticipation for her destination of the night, the sound of her phone ringing interrupted her. Looking at the ID that read "Dad", she answered the call with obvious reluctance.
"Dad, shouldn't you be asleep at this hour?"
The male voice that came out from the other side was mature but dry:
"The one who saved you three months ago is awake. Go meet him. And don't forget to leave a good impression."
The woman frowned.
"Can't you just give him some money to thank him? Or do him a favor."
"I'm not asking for your opinion. Just do as I tell you."
The woman gritted her teeth, but she didn't seem able to go against her father.
"Do I have to scramble everything I have planned? Can't I go later?"
*Bip*
"Hello? Dad?"
The woman brought the phone away from her ear and looked at the screen, only to realize that her father had ended the call.
She almost stomped her foot in frustration, her fear of breaking her expensive high-heels stopping her, as she gritted her teeth.
She unlocked her luxury sports car, started it, and drove away. On the way, she got a text from her father:
"General Hospital, room…"
She swallowed her frustration, and made a call. It didn't take long for a woman's voice to be heard from the receiver:
"Hello? Cynthia, are you on your way? You are the only one we are waiting for."
"Girls, I will be late."
"What?!? Did you get into trouble again?"
Many voices came from the other side, as the last trouble that had only been caused by an unlucky coincidence had almost cost her her life.
"Calm down, girls. I am only taking care of something that my father asked me to do. I will come as soon as I'm done."
The relief on the other side could be felt through the receiver:
"Girl, you almost frightened us to death."
This made Cynthia smile.
"Alright, my bad. I need to hang up now. I can't keep talking to you, I'm driving."
"Alright. Then come soon if you don't want to miss anything."
"Sure thing."
_ _ _
_ _ _
Back at the General Hospital, in the room the nurse had ran away from:
"Congratulations on waking up, Mr Damien-"
"Daemon."
"Excuse me?"
"Call me Daemon."
The doctor was left feeling uncertain faced with the neutral faced patient. Maybe that was what had frightened the nurse just after he woke up from his coma. Also, wasn't the name on the ID card "Damien"? He would know, as he was the one in charge of the patient since the beginning.
"Alright, Mr… Daemon. I'm sure your girlfriend will be happy to see you awake. She has been coming to take care of you all this time after all."
"Girlfriend?"
Daemon frowned, as a face came to his mind, but he rejected that notion immediately. After six years, the only girlfriend he ever had should have moved on already. The thought caused a crack that let seep through a bit of the bitterness he had always been suppressing.
"Do you feel uncomfortable anywhere?"
The doctor's voice brought him out of his thoughts.
"No, I'm fine."
"That's good. Even the last wound on your face is healing well. It should leave little to no scar behind after some time. I must say that the technology used to treat you was an eye-opener."
Daemon ignored the comment. Instead, he declared:
"I'm leaving the hospital tomorrow, so do everything you have to do tonight."
The doctor immediately pushed Daemon up on his personal ranking of difficult patients.
"Mr Daemon, it's not advised to let you go so soon after you just left your coma. It would be for the best if we could keep you here for at least a few more days, a week if possible. Your state at the moment of the incident was already precarious, and the shock from the bullet only tipped things to the wrong side."
Daemon said with indifference:
"It was not a request, nor am I asking for your opinion. I am only informing you."
The doctor was speechless, but he also knew that the patient had an out of the ordinary identity.
When he had been admitted at the hospital, the ones who came to get things into order and treat him had left the doctor intimidated. He just didn't know why he had been left at the hospital, instead of being taken to a place with better facilities.
"Alright, Mr Daemon. We will observe you tonight and perform more check-ups tomorrow before you go. I will take my leave for now."
Daemon stood up after he was alone, and went to the window to take in the sight after moving the curtain to the side.
He had not been back to this city for years. It was partly out of avoidance, but mostly because of the rules, and also because his job had never had him operate around.
It had been a while since he last looked out of a window with no particular objective, no target in the line of sight. He lost track of time as he just watched the city live its nightlife. The lights, the cars, the night owls, and so on.
The darkness he was used to embraced him in the moment of solitude. He was not thinking about anything, neither about the past, nor about the future.
Suddenly, his time alone was interrupted as the door of his room was opened to let in a woman that was in the second half of her twenties, about the same as him.