Pallis began his day with a cup of tea in his bedroom suite, slumped in his green velvet armchair with classical musical spinning on a record player nearby. He blankly regarded the tobacco farm outside his window, lost in thought. Drew's behaviour toward him the previous day had left him perturbed. He'd been injured at first, but after deciding on the solution of removing Drew's so-called father from the equation, he'd thought the problem to be resolved. It hadn't been his intention to greatly disturb the balance between him and his brother; his intention had been to restore it. After all, there was eternal life ahead of them, and they'd barely started out.

The boy wasn't smiling now. It felt strange to him, enough so that in his glum contemplation of his and his brother's predicament, he touched his slack cheeks in half-conscious puzzlement.

He pressed the chip on his ear. "Bella, I want my schedule cleared for the morning and afternoon."

The reply was, as usual, remarkably instantaneous, "Sir?"

"I'll take that as a confirmation," Pallis said.

"Sir, remember that you were out all afternoon and evening yesterday. You have a full schedule."

"Really?" Pallis rubbed his temples and sighed irritably. He set down his tea and assumed a kinder tone. "Miss Bella, you are a very capable assistant, and you know me very well. I trust you to do what I would do in any work-related circumstance. If there is too much on your plate, find someone to assist you. But again, my morning and afternoon are to be cleared. If anything is extremely pressing, I'll see to it later in the day."

There was a pause. "Yes, sir."

"Thanks, doll."

He released the device and stood up to tidy himself in the mirror. He tucked in his shirt, fastened his tie and combed his hair. Then he smiled, and afterwards frowned. He touched his teeth in his reflection. "Yellow," he remarked under his breath. The color was just beginning to stain around his gums.

He touched his chip. "Also, have whitening strips brought to my room, Bella. That is all."

He shrugged on his uniform jacket, buttoned it up, and stuck his morning cigarette between his teeth. There was personal business to tend to.

***

The haunting sound of lifeless machines clicked all around. Computer keys tapped with the input of codes from the scientists as they recorded his vitals as if the record mattered. Multicolored lights flashed on panels in his peripheral vision, met by a snaking cluster of wires bound in tape which ran along the cold tiles and disappeared into his chair. The head doctor scurried across his vision in a blur and vanished behind him. He couldn't move his head. It pounded against an iron restraint, the throbbing of his blood loud in his ears and unbearable in his temples.

His wrists were tense under thick leather bands that laced his flesh with iron teeth.

Theodore felt ill, his bleary eyes shifting over the familiar room like an old enemy, swollen and puffy, his mouth dry and cottony.

The door to his chamber opened, permitting entrance of a short, slender figure in green. Theodore jolted awake, his ears drawing back in alert. His eyes focused, clarifying the figure's identity. Goosebumps raised up his arms. The doctor and scientists promptly withdrew.

Lord Pallis waited patiently for the door to close before he took the cigarette from his teeth and gave his most captivating grin. "Good morning, one-one-eight-five."

The damned smile always seemed to return, no matter what happened. After he had verbally assaulted the boy the previous night, degraded him and scoffed at his ability to care for Drew, and attempted to slit his throat with an IV needle, he had expected that the teenager would be fuming. In fact, Theodore wanted the teenager to be fuming, to be out of control. It would have given him something normal to cling to. But Pallis neatly clasped his hands and greeted him politely. He had been out of control last night, and avoided making the same mistakes twice.

Theodore howled and swore, spitting a stream of the foulest curses he knew.

Pallis's brow raised and he waited, bewildered, for Theodore to finish.

"I don't know where you learn these words," he remarked.

Theodore breathed heavily. He spat at Pallis and clenched his teeth. "Bring me to my son, you..."

"Drew is not your son," Pallis interrupted derisively. He took a puff of his cigarette. "A hammer isn't the owner of a fresh-forged weapon."

"So, you're saying he's a weapon?" the subject challenged.

"No," the boy calmly returned. "I'm saying you're a tool." He exhaled a stream of smoke and drew a simple video recording device from his pocket. "Now, I'm going to need you to work with me, one-one-eight-five."

"Never," Theodore growled.

Pallis took a long pull on his cigarette, then flicked on the small camera. "Tell him that you are okay."

"You mean lie? Like you would?" the man jeered.

"Yes, LIE." Anger flashed across his face. He diverted his attention to the device in his hand and the spark of temper was concealed by his hair, which fell over his down-turned eyes.

The subject shook his head, fiercely glaring at Pallis. He growled in his throat and lifted his chin as high as he could under the restraints of his chair. "He is my son. If you're going to kill me now, then I'll have the decency to let him know."

Pallis sighed and shook his head, clicking his tongue. He raised his chin, and his egregious smile caught the ceiling light perfectly as he laughed. His bright green eyes met Theodore's, on the brink of wild. Smoke curled from his lips, which sinisterly turned upwards in a cool discretion that bode nothing but ill will. His teeth hid away. "Oh, foolish creature...," he murmured, closing the distance between them in three graceful strides. He leaned over Theodore, pressing down on the man's wrists and staring into his heterochrome eyes with malice. "I can't kill you, now," he cooed. He traced a finger down Theodore's chest, to his gut. "You have healing agent in your blood, and I want it. My Mother wants it. I need samples. Then, I'll kill you. But it will look like an accident, because I need Drew to believe that it was."

Pallis stood back and Theodore shivered, discovering the breath he hadn't realized he'd been missing. His chest rose and fell rapidly. The smell of lavender from the boy stuck to him like a plague, mingling with the cloud of cigarette toxicity that tore the moisture from the air and left his teeth on edge and his skin prickling.

"The machinery was broken," Pallis breathed, spreading his hands, setting the stage. Amusement glinted in his eyes while his expression and posture played deep concern like a theater role. "We were only trying to excite the nanotechnology inside of him; a small electrical jolt can give a test subject renewed vigor for years. But it failed." Pallis gasped and flung his hand over his heart, while his other hand snaked to the belt at waist. "There must have been water in the system, from that dreadful leak on Level Three..." He raised his pistol to the ceiling and fired at a sprinkler, rousing a shout from his captive. Cement rained down on Theodore and he coughed and choked in its midst. The sprinkler shuddered and chugged, raining a weak flow of water onto Theodore's lap, matting the fur. It dribbled over his eyes and wet the foul taste of dust and smoke on his tongue.

"There was nothing we could do!" Pallis cried, throwing his head back, tossing the back of his hand against his brow. "The electric shock was too great."

"You're insane," Theodore whispered, bracing his back against the very chair that was to doom him.

"But, you'll still be alive then," Pallis assured, paying him no attention. He nodded to himself. "Your mind will be gone. You'll be even more of an animal than you are now. Putting you down will be humane."

"You're INSANE!" Theodore shouted, strained. "You're a monster!"

"YELL AT ME ONE MORE TIME AND I'LL GIVE YOU REASON TO SCREAM!" Pallis roared, swiveling to face the man. His face was dark with red. He inhaled his cigarette and continued, voice steady, "Drew will say his last goodbyes and see that you are gone, and that will be the end of it. I'll kill you myself for all the delusions and misbehaviors you have taught him."

"One of these days," Theodore began slowly, eyes wide, "someone will put you in your place, Pallis Shir. Six feet underground."

Pallis stepped closer and exhaled a stream of smoke into his face. "Many have tried."

He pressed his cigarette to the subject's neck, putting it out. The man groaned in pain, writhing against the restraints. He choked on the cloud and tried to lean away from the boy. The cigarette rolled down his chest and settled at his waist, leaving a trail of ash in its path.

Pallis put his hand beside the man's head against the back of the iron chair and whispered into his ear. "Do you think you're the first one to try to murder me with an IV needle?" He pulled back. "You're wasting my time. I need you to tell my brother that you're okay." He picked up the small camera again and brushed the cigarette to the floor. He cupped the man's cheek, far too gently for his comfort. "While you still have the mind to do so."

Theodore took a deep breath. "No."

"No?" His grip hardened around the subject's jaw.

The man stiffened and screwed his eyes shut. "No."

The boy twitched. His jaw set and he reached inside of his coat, relinquishing his hold on the captive. "Fine." He drew out a small bottle filled with amber liquid. "I brought incentive. Fancy a drink, one-one-eight-five?"

Theodore opened one eye, then with a gasp of disbelief, the other followed.

Pallis grinned, his entire face lighting up. "Fancy a little mind-numbing and blissful drowning of emotions before your lights go out? It will make it so much easier, won't it? Pain-free."

Theodore stared, his heart clenched. Shame swept over his expression and his shoulders hung heavy. He averted his eyes, suddenly pale. The aggression towards his captor seeped away, and his submission revealed itself in the drooping of his soggy ears, wet under the broken sprinkler's shaky, constant drip.

"I think I see a favorable change, one-one-eight-five," cooed Pallis. "I'm so pleased. I knew you would come around."

But Theodore raised his gaze and slowly shook his head. "I won't take it."

"Well, of course you—" Pallis stopped and sharply focused, brows knitting. His head tilted. "Excuse me?"

"I won't take it," Theodore said, lifting his head higher. "I need to see my boy."

"No," the boy's voice shook, low and gritty. "That was never the plan. You will speak to the camera, you will tell him you are fine, and I'll give you the whiskey. You're an alcoholic. You're predictable, you're cowardly, you're malleable."

"My son is more important to me than even the finest damned whiskey!" Theodore barked. "You may have a knack for manipulation and—and scheming, you soulless hound, but your lack of understanding for human compassion—"

"Enough!" Pallis screeched. He sprang at Theodore and grabbed the man by his wrists, forcing his flesh hard against the iron spikes of his restraints. Blood dribbled over Pallis's white-knuckled hands. He seethed at the writhing subject, baring his teeth to the man's screams. The boy backhanded Theodore hard across the face, splattering the man's own blood across his cheek. "Reconsider."

He abruptly withdrew to stand by door, his back to the test subject. He hunched, his posture skewed and out of character. Theodore scrunched up his face, trying to keep the blood from snaking to his lips. He watched Pallis's shoulders rise and fall, unsure.

"Pallis," Theodore attempted.

"Tcha!" Pallis snapped.

The sprinkler wheezed on the ceiling. They were silent.

The lord eventually turned and considered him with pure resentment. "When business with Drew has finished... I will show you how close I can take you to death," he smiled, "and I'll let you stay there for a good long while."

***

Sponge and Lip, Drew found, were very strange old men. In knowing that venturing to Level One Below was a risk, Drew had always been sure to spend all his time there with his father, and thus now discovered that he knew very little about the kindly strangers of the West Wing.

They sucked on the marmalade that heaped on their halves of bread. Drew would normally just take a bite, chew, and swallow, but the men sucked.

"Lasts longer," Sponge explained. "Never had anything so nice."

Lip nodded his agreement.

Drew shrugged and dipped his finger into the marmalade jar. "I'll get you more, if I can."

Down the hall, the doors of the family elevator opened, announced by a bell. Drew knew full well who it would be. He disrespectfully refused to lift his eyes from the marmalade, stirring it with his index. Sponge and Lip shrank into themselves, pulling their treats nearer their chests.

"Need I remind you that you are on thin ice, gentlemen?" Pallis sneered.

Drew stuck his finger in his mouth, cleaning off the spread that covered it. "Go away, Pallis."

"Get your finger out of your mouth, Berthold. It's not proper."

"I don't care. And the name is Drew," Drew grumbled, paying more attention to his hand than his brother. "Although, I suppose it is fitting for you to call me Berthold, seeing that's the name that people I don't trust call me."

The smile was knocked clean off the older boy, which rather frightened the guards. "Your attitude is unacceptable, Drew. Unacceptable. I have done nothing wrong to you."

Drew wiped his finger on his jacket—the finest jacket he owned. "Maybe not directly."

Pallis pressed his fingers to his temples and turned his back to them. The guards looked pleadingly to Drew, shaking their heads. Drew left the spread jar between the two and stood. He folded his arms over his chest and waited for Pallis to turn back.

The older boy smoothed out his sleeves before he did, folding a dried drop of blood on his shirt cuff out of view under his jacket sleeve. He turned, smiling again. Sometimes he had to take a moment to calm. "I'm sorry that I startled you, yesterday. I came to make up for it." He took a handheld camera from his pocket. "The sub... Theo..."

"Theodore," Drew snapped.

"Theodore," Pallis agreed, "was kind enough to provide me with a video message to take to you. But, he's most unwell. All the sudden change has taken much out of him, you must understand. It would have put him at risk to come here himself."

He offered the device to Drew, who hastily snatched it, turning it on.

"That doesn't make any sense. He was fine yesterday." He found the video in the camera's library and played it. Lip and Sponge squinted from the floor.

On the screen, Theodore lay, ashen-faced, in a plain hospital bed, covered in a blanket. The camera only captured his chest upwards. His fingers came into frame, wiggled in the smallest of waves. His ears drooped as though paralyzed and his eyes were duller than marble, ringed with unhealthy pink and the telltale signs of tears. "I'm—Drew, I'm... I'm fine. I'm okay." He meekly smiled. "I'm sorry for frightening you. I love you, and I'll see you soon. I promise."

It ended and Drew played it again. He sniffed, tears welling in his eyes, and looked up to Pallis. "What happened to him? What did you do?"

Pallis's eyes widened and he shook his head. "I didn't do anything, besides provide him a private room to stay in and the best doctors in my employ to care for him. I know he looks a mess, but that's only because he is about to undergo a procedure. He's been dosed with morphine to keep him out of pain, so he's a little... out of it."

"What kind of procedure?"

"A very specialized one," answered Pallis, reaching for his recorder. "Will you forgive me, now? Can we be friends, again?"

Drew hugged the small camera to his chest. "I'm keeping this."

"But, I need—"

"It's mine, now," Drew grumbled, glaring at Pallis.

Pallis caved. "All right, I'll get a new one." He held out a hand. "Now, please, I've freed my whole afternoon for you. Can we... go read a book?"

"Can I see my Dad?"

"No," Pallis said. "He needs rest. Please, Drew."

Drew eyed Pallis's hand cautiously. He pursed his lips and dropped the recorder into his jacket, without pockets big enough to hold it. He looked to his friends. "You'll leave Lip and Sponge alone?"

Pallis glanced at the sorry excuses for guards. "Yes." He nodded. "Absolutely."

"Okay. What book are we going to read?"

"Something educational?"

Drew scowled, pulling on his gloves. "No, thank you."

Pallis sighed and extended his hand further. "All right, hero. We'll read your old favorite."

"The Fantastic Tales of the Guardians?" Drew gasped, eyes alight. "But... it went missing, remember?"

"It's in my bedroom," Pallis confessed. "I took it. But I'll give it back if you stop looking at me like I'm the devil."

Drew grabbed Pallis's hand. "You have to read it to me like you used to. And no mean comments or stopping. Read the whole thing through. Promise?"

"I promise." Pallis nodded, chest rising with the return of his spirit. He turned Drew towards the elevator and narrowed his eyes behind his back at the guards. Watch out, he mouthed. He tapped his ear device. "Bella, have lunch brought to my room."

***

Theodore lay under an unfeeling white light, unable to open his eyes, unable to move. He felt the terrible spasms of his body's feeble attempts to heal, entirely sober, entirely aware. It was foolish, he thought, to be bold.

Nanotechnology sent shocks up his spine and prickled at his flesh. His wounds had been cleaned and were gradually starting to close, lacing his charred and broken skin with a faint greenish glow. It felt like an arsenal of needle-points drumming against his bones.

Not a single muscle was exempted in his suffering, each morsel of himself pulsing as though the young lord's claws had reached all the way inside to tear at every corner, every artery, every cell. What was worse was that he was built to survive it, designed to recover.

"Subject one-one-eight-five," said a doctor, blocking the light as she bent over his head, "Lord Pallis won't be seeing you again until the morning. We've taken all the blood samples that we need from you. I will administer a dose of morphine now and you may rest."

Theodore sobbed.