Henchman

Every morning I tell myself I’m not an evil man.

Dr. Nevik told me not to go behind Miss Kendal’s hospital curtain. As he met with her he spoke so gently I imagined a loving conversation between a husband and wife. She, of course was only a client of his not a patient. Dr. Nevik is a physicist. Physicists don’t have patients. They have clients.

"How is your pain?" he asked.

"The morphine helps." Her quiet voice shook, like it came from a weathered throat that had survived from the doctor’s generation. "But it doesn’t make it go away. It’s always there - even when I sleep."

"I understand. Your injuries have enflamed your nerves. If the pain were any stronger it would force you into a coma."

"I can’t touch anyone," she said. "The slightest pressure can sheer my skin. Even breathing tears at the scar tissue. It hurts to talk."

I don’t know why I wanted to see that. I suppose it’s the same nature that makes people slow down when they pass a traffic accident. Through opaque drapes I could see the silhouettes of Miss Kendal and the doctor, but nothing more. I stepped softly towards the opening. I simply had to see.

"Baz?" Dr. Nevik asked.

"Yes, sir?"

"I told you to stay put. Go back to the door. Make sure no one eavesdrops on us."

"Yes sir." I returned to the door, the handle of the gun under my jacket poking into the side of my ribcage as I did.

"You said you have a body preference?" the doctor asked.

"Long legs," she answered. "Men prefer women with long legs. I don’t want them too lanky, though. I want to be able to run."

"That will make you tall."

"Oh. I don’t want to be too tall."

"Very well, then. Long legs, but not too tall. What else?"

"I’d like to be blonde - with blue eyes."

"Does that really matter? It’s easy enough to change those these days."

"I’d prefer to be natural."

"Very well. I’ll see what we can do, but we can’t make any guarantees. The body can be faulty - it can develop cancer, come with a scoliosis of the spine - we can’t screen it like blood."

"I understand. Anything is better than this." She coughed. It sounded like as she did a layer of tissue sloughed off inside her throat - not that I would know what that sounds like - but that was what I guessed I heard.

I could understand her urge to escape her pain. I can also understand why Dr. Nevik didn’t give her all the details involved in the acquisition. I doubt they would’ve changed her mind. Were I in her position I’m not sure I’d want to know.

#

I spent four years as a special forces operative. We were dumped into some of the harshest, most hostile environments on the planet, given limited supplies and out-of-date intelligence reports, and tasked with making some of the dirtiest kills in modern history. Still, Vanton’s lower east side made me shiver. It’s the skids capitol of the world.

I walked in - leaving my car on the outskirts of the district. It’s called the "lower" east side because the city has built upwards over the years. The rich can afford the rooftops, the skywalks, and the sun. The poor stay down below where the light is mostly blocked out by the super skyscrapers. I kept my gun loaded.

At first glance the lower east side doesn’t look that bad. There are plenty of people around. I’ve heard gunshots go off, but they were always in the distance - somebody else’s problem. The bars are always open.