Harry Guakomoli stepped out of the recovery room and into a hulking brute of a man. He had a few inches on The Guak's modestly impressive seventy-four inches of height and slightly more bulk. His auburn hair appeared freshly buzzed. His bushy beard easily contained as much hair as the rest of his head, if not more. The Guak sized him up: his black combat fatigues suggested career soldier who couldn't play nice.
"Move it," The Guak growled.
"Make me," snarled the man in response.
Bushy cracked his neck and then his knuckles, causing our hero to notice his right forefinger was missing. Bullshit posturing. The Guak was looking forward to breaking him.
"Have it your way, Trigger," said The Guak as he clenched his fist and pulled back his arm.
"Nownowgentlemen," Dr. Lawrence Triangle said as he stepped into the hallway and stood behind our hero.. "Frank, please be so kind as to escort Mr. Guakomoli out of the facility. Gently."
Frank neither moved a muscle nor made a sound.
"Now, Mr. Guakomoli, in the sweatshirt pocket is a cellphone with only one number programmed into it: mine. If you change your mind, and I hope you do, do not hesitate to call me."
"Sure. Whatever," The Guak replied. He did not take his eyes off of Frank.
The stare down between Frank and our hero continued in icy silence for nearly a minute before Triangle's apparent subordinate stepped aside and motioned down the hallway.
"That way."
Our hero was always reluctant to put his back to a man eager to scrap, but The Guak reckoned Frank was obedient and in control of himself enough to not try something unless provoked. And while The Guak badly wanted to provoke the grunt, he wanted out of this sterile whatever-it-was even more.
The pair walked down the hallway, The Guak in front and Frank closely behind him. Our hero could feel the seething, barely contained, hatred beating down on him. They walked in silence save for the one time the soldier barked "left" and twice "right" as they changed direction. The Guak passed several metal doors, all unmarked. He was tempted to ask Frank what were behind the doors or, better yet, try to enter one to see what would happen. But our hero simply wasn't in the mood to force feed the goon his testicles.
The Guak and Frank ascended a flight of cement steps that ended at another metal door.
"Hold up," Frank ordered.
The Guak did not care for the other man's tone but stepped to the side nonetheless, fighting his urge to rip Frank's ears off.
Frank withdrew some small black electronic device from his utility belt. An image flickered on a previously unseen screen. Frank tapped the screen a few times. Our hero attempted to sneak a peak, but his escort blocked The Guak from getting a visual with his shoulder.
"God dammit," Frank muttered under his breath before opening the door and exiting.
Our hero followed Frank out the door and into an alleyway. It was night and the narrow alley was dimly lit.
"L.T. said you were not to smoke this close to the entrance," Frank growled into the darkness.
From the shadows of a nearby set of metal stairs the ember of a cigarette being drawn flared followed by the barely audible slow exhale. The Guak distinctly smelled vanilla.
"Blow me. Since I'm not allowed to smoke inside I need to go outside, and I'm not walking around the block," a throaty feminine voice responded from the shadows. Now leave us. I want to talk with The Guak alone."
"The fuck you are," Frank retorted. "I'm not leaving you alone with this monster."
"Yes, you are. That's an order, soldier boy. Now respect the rank, bitch."
Frank stood quietly. His rage threatened to finally erupt, but instead the military man turned around and went back through the door, slamming it behind him.
A woman stepped out from under the cover of darkness and into the light. The Guak was finally able to put a face to the voice as short woman in her early thirties with alabaster skin and waist-length straight glossy black hair emerged from out of the shadows.
"Okay, The Guak. Let's talk."
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