Healer

22

     "Finished already? How disappointing. I'd rather expected the determined hero to all but kill himself, trying to free the damsel in distress."

     At the slightly bored sound of Arthur's voice, Reynolds looked up. The Hunter had been waiting outside the conference room when Reynolds emerged and had gone with him to Containment, unlocking the door. Arthur had been a still, silent presence, watching Reynolds's efforts as he tried desperately to free Imbago from her containment coffin. It was an impossible task. But, of course, Reynolds had known that before he'd started. The coffins were impossible to open by anyone who didn't know the code. The only way he could think of to get the code for Imbago's coffin was to beat his way through every liaison to the Board of Overseers on the base until he found the right one. That assumed he could even get to them despite the guards, the other Hunters, and anything else that might be set up to prevent that from happening. Reynolds had briefly considered it anyway. Now, he glared at Arthur. "If you're not going to help me, then go screw!"

     "Oh, but I am going to help you. After all, it's why I'm here, watching you throw yourself into an effort we both know is utterly pointless." The Hunter's hands closed on Reynolds's arms. Reynolds jerked furiously away. Arthur caught him again, this time holding on and dragging him roughly back. He skillfully tripped the Candidate as he pushed, causing Reynolds to fall forward onto the floor. Arthur immediately jumped up onto his back, twisting an arm up behind him. "Do I have your attention now?" he called calmly as Reynolds yelped in pain and trashed. "I would so hate to have to dislocate your arm, but I've had enough bullshit for one day."

     "Alright! Get off of me!"

     "No."

     Arthur didn't budge from his perch, but at least the pressure on Reynolds's shoulder eased slightly. Reynolds hissed in relief. "Ok. I'm listening."

     "When we first met, you told me you wanted to be a Hunter," Arthur said calmly. "Has that changed?"

     "No, but I..."

     "Did you know that I am the oldest living Grey Coat Hunter in the world?" When Reynolds stayed quiet, Arthur continued. "In my lifetime, I have seen many, many Hunters come and go. I consider myself a fine judge of who would make a good Hunter. You would. You've got a lot of potential, but add Imbago to that equation, and you're all but useless. Ah-ah-ah!" he warned, putting just enough pressure on Reynolds's arm to still him again. "Yes, you proved that, even with her, you could finish missions. But now you know just how far she's willing to go to get what she wants, to get you, do you think you could continue to meekly go along with her?"

     "She needs to control herself, yes," Reynolds admitted through gritted teeth. "We can work on that, but only if she's alive!"

     "You remember how I considered myself a fine judge of who would make a good Hunter? There's another side to that. I also know who won't make a good Hunter. That includes those who used to be good but are no longer fit for the job. She's not, Reynolds." Despite his harsh words, Arthur's voice was soft. "She's proven herself incapable of being objective. If she hadn't been training you, the Overseers would have ordered her neutralized long ago."

     Reynolds didn't move. Arthur let him go, getting up off of him. He stood back, watching the Candidate get back to his feet. Reynolds looked at him for a moment. Pushing roughly past the Hunter, Reynolds stumbled out into the hall. Arriving at the room he'd shared with Imbago, he was stunned to find it empty. All of their personal effects were gone. The walls were bare. The beds were stripped, and the closets and drawers were open. A couple of housekeepers were calmly mopping and polishing, sparing him only the briefest of glances as they removed every trace of the life he'd had with Imbago. She wasn't coming back. Soon, it would be like she'd never existed.