Chapter Text
‘Get away from me!’ He wanted to scream those words as numerous hands reached out for him. They grasped at his arms and tugged at the back of his jacket pulling him in different directions. He tried to speak but only blood dribbled past his lips in choking gasps. He shoved them away. ‘Don’t touch me!’
Somehow he was in a hallway. He didn't remember reaching a hallway. His feet kept moving even as his knees buckled to the ground. His blood stained fingers curled against the polished tile as he coughed. Blood splattered their pristine white shine. His head was pounding. He couldn't fill his lungs with air. Agonizing pain built up in one side of his chest while the other felt like it was being held in a vice that pressed harder and harder with each inhale. He couldn't hear anything through the rush of his own blood thrumming in his ears. Zeno shoved himself back to his feet and lurched further along. One palm steadied against the wall to help himself along. A crimson streak painted at the ends of his fingertips.
He didn't know where he was going but anywhere was better than here. Anywhere-
‘Chris-’ Would he be able to make it that far? Did he dare to enter the wasteland of the city in the vain hope that the wolves would come to his rescue? His feet kept moving in a direction. His vision struggled to focus. He couldn't read the signs on the wall directories. He gripped a doorway for stability as another agonizing cough lurched up his throat.
Zeno was afraid. His body wasn't fixing this. ‘Why isn't it healing?’ He was terrified. ‘Am I dying?’
He wasn't ready. This isn't how it was supposed to end. He wanted more time. He wanted to-
The tears burned in his eyes as he coughed harder. Globules of blood left his lips in congealing clots that rose up his throat like amorphous entities. He shook his head in refusal. A fragile sob muffled by his own struggling breaths. ‘This can't be happening.’
What did he even do to warrant this? There was nothing he could draw from. No reason at all. He did everything he was told to do. He obeyed. He performed just as they requested of him. He did everything right. He served loyally for years.
‘They're going to terminate me.’ He was defective. Dying from a simple knife wound would surely be a death sentence for good. And here he thought the RCS was going to be the end of him.
Zeno shoved the door open that he was leaning against. He felt his posture slip too far forward. A blur of black clad gear on a large individual was a brief acknowledgement in his eyes before his body hit the floor facedown. He didn't even have the strength to catch himself or push himself back up. He gasped, blood filled his mouth in a drooling puddle as his airway clogged up. He could see the polished black of tactical boots step in front of him as the individual knelt down. A gruff voice reported back over a radio.
“I got him.”
‘Chris….’ He squeezed his eyes shut as the tears slipped free and he gave into the suffocating darkness.
Beep……beep……beep……beep……
That sound, the monotonous beeping, was a familiar sound that filled his mind with dread. As he began to surface to consciousness, he felt weighed down. As if his body were being pressured into the mattress he was lying against. His fingers twitched against the fabric of the bedding as he dragged his knuckles against it. They furled into loose fists. He filled his lungs with a deep breath. There was no pain. No tension in his chest. No stuttering gasps. Just oxygen. Clean, cool oxygen that came from a mask over his face.
Zeno slowly opened his eyes. The lights had been turned low in the room but not completely out. His glasses were gone. He stared up at the ceiling where an air vent whispered softly sending cool air around the room. There was a firm grip around his wrists as he started to regain control of his senses. When Zeno lifted his head, he discovered why it was he felt so weighed down. He had multiple points of restraints holding him down. His wrists and ankles, a strap over his thighs and another over his abdomen. They were bioweapon grade with magnetic locks keeping them fixed to the frame.
“You're awake.” A gruff somewhat familiar voice noted aloud from the corner of this little room. Zeno's eyes blinked to adjust as he tried to focus. The glossy red lenses of a familiar facemask gleamed in the low light back at him.
‘The Commander.’ Just the man Zeno was hoping to run into. He was seated in a chair in the corner with his rifle balanced casually over his lap in the way that many of the elite soldiers did when idle for long periods of time. It was rare that they'd be carrying their rifles this far inside the facility but Zeno imagined he was a special exception on that matter. Perhaps they were afraid he had turned on them too, just like Mr. Johnson seemed to believe.
Zeno studied him for a few beats. The alert posture reminded him of the Hound Wolves. When he opened his mouth to speak, only a croak of sound left his throat. It felt so raw and tasted of old blood. A cough quickly replaced it as he squirmed in the restraints to get a better less awkward position. It was hopeless. The Commander seemed to take pity on Zeno as he delivered the full report of events that he seemed to anticipate Zeno was after in the first place.
Beginning with the expedition.
It was carried out the day after the meeting’s conclusion. Of which, as Zeno quickly discovered, he had slept for two and a half days in total. The beginning of the expedition had gone well at first. They had heeded Zeno's warning about the explosive traps but in avoiding them, it had taken them too close to the Garmr's territory which Zeno had also advised about in the earlier reports about their unusual aggression after the storm. At first the Garmr didn't bother them. They entered the abandoned location of the former Umbrella lab and the research team had successfully collected two samples of the plant like specimens. By late evening, they had decided to extend the expedition an extra day to study the plant's behavior.
By the afternoon of the next day, one of the researchers had triggered the root traps by accident, unaware that they frequently moved around the room as the plants adjusted to catch their prey. Two researchers were killed by the acidic fluids the plants produced to immobilize and break down their struggling prey. Another suffered severe burns but was alive. In their rush to get the third researcher to medical, the increased noise and activity had drawn the Garmr closer to camp. One soldier was killed by the infected wolves, and the rest of the retreating unit was forced into the danger zone. Three more soldiers were killed by the explosive traps, and two were critically injured.
Mr. Johnson was the only survivor of that unit to escape unscathed. That is until he took his own life after attempting to take Zeno's. The wounds Zeno sustained from Mr. Johnson's assault had caused complications. The external layer of tissue sealed itself shut after the stabbing but the repeated wounds puncturing his chest had pierced one of his lungs, and his chest cavity filled with blood. Since the wounds sealed shut, the blood had nowhere to go and continued to build up, eventually collapsing both of his lungs and restricting his organs.
They had to insert a tube into his chest to drain the blood out so his body could regenerate on its own. He's been under observation for a day to ensure there were no adverse reactions to the procedure. Half of the facility was in quarantine due to Zeno's blood being everywhere. They had to decapitate and burn Mr. Johnson's body after he used the same knife to stab Zeno with, to take his own life, effectively infecting his corpse with the t-virus in the process.
Over 60 people had been subjected to a 72 hour quarantine as a result. Seven were dead and three were in critical condition being treated for their injuries.
‘And they think I'm to blame?’ Sure, if he had gone with the expedition team, his bioweapon pheromones could have kept the Garmr away and his night vision might have aided them with the plants. But that wasn't his decision at the end of the day. They took him off the team at their own request. He wasn't involved in that decision whatsoever. His job was to submit the reports and ensure that the assigned tasks were carried out regardless of his involvement in them. All his handlers cared about were results.
He was kept in the medical wing for another day of observation. They did an x-ray of his chest and a CT scan to ensure that his body had repaired itself correctly. Only after that conclusion did they finally release him of the restraints and allow him to return to his own private quarters. Someone at least had the forethought to retrieve his new clothes from the supply depot since all of the clothes he was wearing before the attack had been contaminated with infectious blood and had to be burned. The facility was still on full lockdown due to the quarantine period so he couldn't even go outside for a smoke. On top of that, his new pack of cigarettes had to be tossed out due to blood contamination, and to make matters worse, his glasses had broken when he collapsed to the ground. The lens had shattered on impact with the tile floor. Which meant he was down to just one pair left. He had submitted a request for a replacement but that could take weeks to receive.
Grumbling to himself in displeasure, Zeno was looking forward to the privacy of his bedroom and seeing Nano again.
As if the influx of sickness every day wasn't bad enough as Zeno vomited his guts into the nearest toilet, but now his nightmares were back after their all too brief absence. On top of it all, he received the news that the research team lost the specimens of what they've come to classify as Plant 43 on their way to the lower facility entrance. The saplings they had painstakingly collected broke containment and rooted themselves in the ravine. They managed to salvage only one sapling and a handful of tissue and root samples. To make matters worse, as if his week wasn't bad enough, Zeno was informed by Gideon that he was due to perform a tour of the Rhodes Hill Chronic Care Center in the next few days. A reminder that he had desperately wished to forget.
The quarantine of the facility had ended and the regular routines of the residents seemed to have gone back to their normal pace. That was the only positive in all of this. That and Nano's considerable growth. Zeno was rather giddy to discover how much improvement his little plant had made over the past week. He was beginning to form his first bud. Zeno was excited. Soon little Nano would be able to start eating like a proper carnivorous plant. Which also meant he was ready to leave his pot to be planted properly in the terrarium with much more space to thrive and spread his roots.
With no immediate tasks in need of his attention for the rest of the day, Zeno busied himself with preparing Nano's new space. He laid down rocks and soil, and added the nutritional compound that Tundra had picked up for him to give the soil more life to feed his young roots. Zeno had mixed a quarter cup of water with his blood until it was a distinctive light red then spread that over the soil with the nutrient compound mixed in to fertilize the dirt. Nano appeared to perk up quite a bit with the special lights on inside the terrarium and his new space to stretch his roots and grow.
Zeno watched over him for a few hours as he read one of his new plant books, and smiled to himself when he noticed one of Nano's leaves had shifted position to turn towards the lights. The bud stood proudly at the top, with its head held high within his box. Zeno purred, a smile resting comfortably on his face as he bid affectionately. “Flourish, my heart. Grow strong.”
He had taken up the habit, like many others had done, to retrieve his meal trays from the cafeteria and eat in his private room. It would appear that most of the facility's staff had grown leery of the cafeteria as they quickly came in, grabbed their meals and scurried out the doors while giving each other a wide berth in the process. The floors were polished to an eye watering shine where Zeno recalled his blood had spilled into a dark murky puddle beneath him. There was no sign left behind to show what had transpired less than a week ago, and yet the residents remembered as if it were still fresh. Zeno remembered the taste of his own blood on his tongue and the smell of Mr. Johnson's blood misting the air around him.
It made him queasy to recall those events. So he tried to block it out of his mind as he patiently waited for his tray and left. His mood improved by sitting in his bed as he ate his breakfast on the side facing Nano's tank. The lights softly hummed as they radiated warmth within the confines of the glass, and a gentle mist of moisture rose up from the humidifier’s fluted tips in the side of the vessel. Nano was growing well, and Zeno had grown fond of his mornings, despite their waking discomforts, of fostering this new routine.
Nano's head had begun to open up already. He wasn't quite ready to begin feeding yet using it, but Zeno was eagerly anticipating the day when it would come. He had a meeting with Gideon later this afternoon that he was hopeful would be relatively short. It was a simple check in to tour the facility at Rhodes Hill, and ensure their investments were being spent on worthwhile endeavors, and that some form of progress was being made. Perhaps a few weeks ago, Zeno would have looked forward to the brief escape away from ARK and Raccoon City, but now all he felt was trepidation and stress at the mere thought. Dr. Gideon, as a whole, unnerved Zeno. The way he looked at the younger man made his skin crawl like he was sizing Zeno up in the same manner that he would one of his potential test subjects. It disgusted Zeno. He wished to make all of their encounters be as brief as reasonably possible without being too obvious. He still needed Gideon's cooperation on this matter so they could achieve the key and seize Elpis, but other than that, he saw no reason to overly entertain the revolting madman.
Zeno donned his nicest suit for this visit to maintain the usual appearances. He hoped this would not be a visit that results in it being damaged, but he wasn't very confident in that given his recent track record. When the helicopter was ready to take him to the Chronic Care Center, Zeno made his way out of the facility towards the helipad. There were two members of security on the flight and the pilot who functioned as Zeno's assigned chauffeur for these types of excursions. The four of them settled into their seats as Zeno secured the safety belt around his waist then waited for the pilot to lift them into the air. The flight wasn't too long. Maybe forty minutes at most at a leisurely pace while navigating the Arklay Mountains. On their way to Rhodes Hill, Zeno could faintly make out the glistening silhouette of the city of Wrenwood in the far off distance. He suspected that was the place that Chris and his team frequently returned to while resupplying their necessities. While Zeno had seen some details about the city such as newspaper clippings, brochures and rough mentions of research facilities not far from the location from back in the day, he didn't actually know what it was like in person. He imagined it was claustrophobic being around so many people so close together. Living in the ARK facility was bad enough that he couldn't imagine that times hundreds of thousands of people crammed into tenant buildings and poorly constructed apartments.
He envisioned soaring high rises made of glass like the pillars of Terragrigia. Yet another fragment of the Connections collective archives that he was able to view snippets of but never permitted to experience in person himself. A world brimming with wonders that were never meant for the likes of him. Even now, he longed for that fading silhouette that grew smaller and smaller on the horizon as they flew towards the Chronic Care Center nestled into the base of the densely forested mountains. Gideon would be expecting him.
Zeno felt ill as they made to land. He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his golden eyes shut behind the glasses as he willed away the fleeting impression of his nausea as it reared its head. Massaging away the tension that nestled in his temples, Zeno realized the engine had gone quiet. They had landed successfully as the rotors slowed to a stop long ago. He blinked and looked around the cabin of the chopper to find the two security personnel watching him carefully.
“Is everything alright sir?” One of the armed men inquired as they waited for Zeno to make the first move. Zeno straightened up and removed his safety belt with an unrestrained sigh.
“Everything is fine.”
The men watched him with a skeptical look but refrained from pointing out the blatant lie. Zeno ushered the thought off as he pushed on, informing the pilot with a thin patience masking his voice. “I'd like to get this meeting over with as quickly as possible. Keep the chopper ready so that we may leave as soon as it's finished.”
“Yes sir.” The pilot answered without pause. Satisfied that his demands were going to be met, Zeno disembarked from the chopper with his two security guards in tow. They swept the helipad with a cautious inspection before confirming that it was safe for Zeno to make his way towards the front steps of Gideon's private residence away from the main building of the medical facility.
The door was unlocked, and the lights were on inside. There was a logbook sitting out with a pen resting beside it and a note next to it informing Zeno that he was expected to sign himself in then take a seat. Gideon was making him wait. He was here right on time for their meeting and yet Gideon had the audacity to make him sit here and wait regardless of their prior agreement.
This visit was already starting to get on his nerves. With a frustrated breath pressed between his lips, Zeno filled out the necessary sections, only signing his name in as the ambiguous Z that he typically signed all of their correspondences with. He dated it, scratching in the time as he checked his watch. He was two minutes early. Then as the ink dried, Zeno took a seat in the brown leather armchairs. The interior design reminded him of many of the homes and buildings in Raccoon City with the faux flowers, dark brown upholstery on the chairs and dated appearance of most of the decor. He couldn't tell whether this was a personal choice on Gideon's part, or the generic design of the building when the doctor moved in and he never bothered to change it. If it were the former, Zeno pondered just how stuck in the past Gideon truly was in his admiration of Spencer's lost legacy.
It unnerved Zeno to consider that fact. The man was already unpleasant enough to deal with as is. He didn't need the additional reminder of his idolization of his former mentor to add to Zeno's growing discomfort. It didn't ease his paranoia whenever the twisted doctor set his eyes on Zeno, the way they studied his figure, as if he were considering unsavory ideas in that head of his. Zeno needed to remain guarded at all times. Gideon was a man he trusted very little.
The doctor made him wait for twenty-eight minutes before Zeno heard a mechanical thud come from deeper in the building. His golden eyes fixed on the doorway further into the home that he presumed led to a private bedroom. There was silence for a few beats then the lock on the door clicked before creaking slowly open. The doctor emerged with his white lab coat hanging on his shoulders. He wore that ridiculous visor of his as he surveyed the room until his attention found Zeno where he was seated impatiently.
“Sorry for the wait.” His quiet apology was breathy. That part of the man had always unnerved Zeno more than raised voices and curt commands ever could. The quiet way in which he carried himself. He spoke softly, almost tenderly, and it often made Zeno's skin crawl with the warning of a potential threat. The pungent odor of Gideon's pheromones began to permeate the room, hitting Zeno's nostrils as he forcefully reminded himself to breathe through his mouth to avoid the vile stench. It repulsed him on a visceral level that churned his stomach. It was worse than the Garmr, and resembled a more concentrated odor similar to that of a corpse in the early stages of decomposition.
Zeno rose to his feet as one hand smoothed down the front of his suit to tidy out the wrinkles. He frowned as he let the displeasure sink into his voice like drops of venom. “We had an appointed time, Victor. I'd expect more professionalism on your part since I am the one handling the financing for your research.”
“I understand.” The doctor appeared entirely nonplussed by the reprimand. His chapped lips drew an uncomfortable smile that split the fragile flaking skin as a dark fluid seeped up from the cracks. “It is my research that made the time escape me. If you're ready, we can begin our tour immediately.”
Zeno smothered his disgust behind the carefully formulated mask he had donned. His lips pressed into a thin line as he gestured with a thinly veiled insistence for Gideon to proceed. The doctor's smile faded quickly as he assumed that neutral clinical front he often carried, and proceeded, to Zeno's puzzlement, to lead him towards the doorway he just left. Zeno followed reluctantly as they entered a large elaborately decorated office that felt more in alignment with what he was expecting of a man of Gideon's status. Perhaps he judged the man overly harsh. The interior of the rest of the home was clearly a decoy then.
Gideon approached a large wood encased device in the center of the room that resembled a very old fashioned radio system. Even in Raccoon City, Zeno had only seen one or two of these, and the remnants of them, in old historic buildings that may have been special antiques or artifacts in a museum. He opened the front lid and clicked something in place as Zeno stood a few paces shy of the box. The whole room started to move with that familiar mechanical sound he vaguely heard before Gideon’s earlier arrival.
As the room descended lower into a secret underground facility, it occurred to Zeno that this was Gideon's hidden lab. His discomfort only grew as Zeno followed the doctor through the facility. There was an office space stacked with old books from Spencer's past research, and dozens of papers were haphazardly laid out across a desk that talked of a key to unlocking his end goal. Zeno assumed this meant Elpis. Judging by Gideon's own hasty scribbles, that is the most likely conclusion for him as well. They left the office to head down the stairs into the next area where a large chamber opened up to show a handful of large tanks that looked like elaborate coffins on rolling wheels. There were clear tubes attached through various ports. Some of the vessels were empty with nothing inside of them, the glass was clean and shiny as if Gideon had just obtained these particular devices. The interior had several straps that had yet to be utilized to hold a subject in place during the procedure that would be carried out using these.
To Zeno's increasing discomfort, not all of the vessels were new and pristine. There was a different version that was situated against one of the walls. About five of them were filled with Gideon’s test subjects. The clear tubes that ran through the ports here were filled with a thick red fluid that ran from smaller wheeled in tanks that were attached to a carefully monitored pump. These tubes were inserted into the abdomens and chest cavities of the subjects. There was an oxygen mask sealed around the subjects’ mouth and noses, as a sedative mixture flowed into their bodies to keep them under. An I.V. line was inserted into both arms, with puncture points in the backs of their hands and at the crook of their elbows as a cocktail of drugs was administered through multiple lines.
Zeno felt sick to his stomach. Four of the subjects were men. One was a young woman with long wispy hair drawn behind her head in a bun like fashion. He couldn't help the way his brain substituted her face for Tundra's, and that sinking sensation grew heavier in his gut. Gideon was talking about blood tests and infection rates, but Zeno wasn't listening to his ramblings. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the woman behind the glass, or the tortured, thin bodies of the male test subjects stripped down as their pale flesh was riddled with holes as tubes invaded their unconscious bodies through surgical incisions.
‘Does it hurt?’ He wondered. Zeno didn't really want to know. He wouldn't be able to stomach it if he truly knew, but a part of him already suspected he was aware of the truth. As he studied the figures within the vessels, he noted that one of the men had opened his eyes at the sound of Gideon's words. Their glazed look tracked towards the large doctor, causing Zeno to tense.
“Are they still conscious?” He blurted in alarm, derailing Gideon's rant only for a brief moment. The doctor took it in stride as if it were only a minor disruption. Merely a frivolous detail.
“It's a common side effect. They’re not actually cognizant of anything that's going on around them. Think of it similar to the phenomenon of sleep walking.” Gideon explained it away as he drew Zeno's attention towards a computer monitor that was connected to the five vessels. He pulled up a screen where all five were being monitored for their brain activity. He pointed out, while spouting a ceaseless end of drivel that sounded like an unnecessary amount of medical jargon just to say their brains were asleep and it was perfectly normal muscle twitching.
As if Zeno needed any more of a reason to want to leave this meeting as soon as possible. This entire lab unnerved him. It was that very reason why he put off this tour for so long. He didn't trust Gideon in normal circumstances, and he most certainly did not trust him in a place like this. He kept the man in front of him in clear line of sight at all times until they had wound their way back up to the surface. His relief was short-lived as they turned their focus to the Chronic Care Center itself. Reluctantly, Zeno agreed. At least this location housed more civilians to help increase the risk factor should anything unsavory come about.
Gideon’s plan was bizarre. He had the facility’s main chef prepare an elaborate luncheon for them both. Zeno wasn't really hungry. The food wasn't bad, he just wished for far better company. It was hard to enjoy a meal when a proverbial corpse was staring at him the entire time. Several other staff members had been directed to join them. The head nurse and three doctors who ran most of the inner workings of the facility, and its administration. A total of six people all gathered around the table as an older woman who was a servant and the chef -a man as big and intimidating in appearance as Chris- brought the meal in on wheeled carts. Each cloche was polished to an eye watering shine as the plates were revealed and served to each guest.
The food smelled quite good for however brief Zeno could enjoy the aroma before Gideon’s foul pheromones interrupted the pleasantries. He used a handkerchief from his breast pocket to stifle the cough that threatened to gag him in the back of his throat. Several courses were brought along as Zeno picked at his food and only half heartedly listened to each of the male members of the table preen their egos like prized peacocks.
He was more interested in the oddities of the food presented at the meal. A soup with rice began it but there were what he presumed to be vegetables he wasn't familiar with mixed into the salty broth. Every mouthful made him want to drain his whole glass of wine just to satisfy his parched throat. Instead Zeno slowly sipped at it as they moved onto a meat that may have been beef. It was drowned in a brownish red sauce with steamed cauliflower on the side. Zeno didn't really care for either of it. There was fresh baked bread which he ate the most of throughout the meal just to quickly satisfy his appetite. There were two more courses but Zeno barely even looked at his plate during the last half of the meal.
The discussion had turned towards an even more unsavory topic when one of the administrators mentioned ‘clones’. Zeno nearly choked on his wine as he attempted to drain the end of his glass to wash down the mouthful of buttery bread.
“Excuse me? I-” He cleared his throat again as he coughed, holding the dinner napkin up to his lips with a careful form of etiquette that had been grilled into him since his ‘birth’ from the growth chambers. “I believe I missed that part. Please repeat that.”
“The clone project that Lord Spencer began.” Ah, right. The orphanage. He recalled the reports that Gideon had sent him a few weeks ago. It completely went over his head. The project was still very much alive here as the administrator happily regaled Zeno, much to his hidden discomfort, about the two little girls in their current program. Emily and Marie. They developed a form of blindness in recent tests unfortunately, but were otherwise doing well. They've even introduced the girls to braille and begun to teach them how to read it. They seem to be very inquisitive and pick up on information quickly.
Zeno recalled his own education had been rather impressive as well. He wasn't sure if that was due to the nature of the genetic superiority of his DNA donor, the fact he was fully grown and matured before he was awakened and began his education, or simply a perk of being a clone to begin with. From the sounds of it, the girls were showing a hefty improvement in their educational stages compared to most children at their growth point.
After the meal, Zeno politely excused himself to the restroom down the hall. The rest of the administrators around the table were more than happy to remain seated as a servant refilled their glasses of wine as they chatted amicably with Dr. Gideon. Leaving the room was an almost instantaneous relief for Zeno as he breathed the fresh air. The faint yet distinct scent of floor disinfectant was accompanied by the caution:wet floor signs on the way to the bathroom. He stepped around the damp spots where one of the cleaners had scrubbed the area before pushing past the wooden door to enter the restroom.
He was alone. Which was its own relief. He adjusted his tie to loosen it around his collar and breathed deeply of the disinfectant scent clashing with the lemony scented air infuser plugged into the outlet by the sink. It still beat the stench of Gideon's pheromones. He took another deep breath and steadied his nerves. His stomach was a tanglement of uncomfortable knots between the poor company at the meal, the disagreeable conversation topics and the pheromones of a bioweapon that his own virus is repulsed by. He couldn't even appreciate the food. He spent a majority of the time concentrating on not breathing through his nose as he took very small bites and picked around the plate until it was socially acceptable enough to be finished without offending his gracious host.
Zeno cared more about not offending the chef than Gideon, if he was being honest. Under better circumstances, the meal would have most certainly have appealed to his tastes. As he took the moment to wash his hands, Zeno felt that twisting sensation in the base of his gut as the all-too-familiar warning that has been tormenting him each morning for days. He had enough time to dart away from the sink into the nearest stall as he slammed the door behind himself to pin it shut before emptying the pitiful amount of his meal that he had managed to swallow, into the toilet bowl. The taste of bile was worsened by the sourness of the wine as it stained every lurching heave a horrible nauseating shade of off brown. He gripped the cool porcelain seat of the toilet, as one hand steadied his balance while the other gripped the medical assistance bar on the wall to keep from sullying his knees on the foul tile floors. No matter how shiny they looked, he refused to kneel on a public bathroom floor. It was bad enough he was touching the seat with his bare hand as is.
The only mercy was that this spell only lasted a minute or two. After the third or fourth heave, he felt considerably better. Shoving himself up with the metal bar framed into the stall wall, he let his back settle firmly against the door as he collected himself. He could feel the slow accumulation of sweat creeping along the back of his neck, and the way his hair fell out of its neat styling. Waiting until he was completely certain the illness had passed, he cautiously exited the bathroom stall with the sound of the water rushing down the drain at his back. A careful survey of the restroom ensured no one else had snuck in while he was busy, as he made his way the short distance back to the sinks.
It only took him a few minutes to scrub his hands clean until he was satisfied. He wiped his mouth clean with paper towel and rinsed it out with warm water drawn directly from the faucet, then finished it off with a careful correction of his hair and a small round mint he had taken to ordering lately with his new packs of cigarettes. They often came monthly with the serving meals but rarely did anyone actually use them that the kitchen staff had started leaving entire bags of the little individually wrapped candies in plastic bowls by the entryway reception desk and interior office checkpoint counters. He decided to make his life easier and had requested the supply depot personnel just toss a bag into his delivery parcel. It helped ease some of the nausea he was warring with in the aftermath of his sickness.
Once he appeared to be back in order, Zeno straightened his tie where it was fit snug around his throat once more, adjusted his glasses to their proper place upon the bridge of his nose, and made the deeply reluctant walk back to join the rest of the administrators. Entertaining this charade had grown deeply tiring already and he still had the whole of the Care Center itself left to see. A quick check of the time on his watch informed him that there was still far too much left in the day for Gideon to waste, and Zeno to be forced to endure before the helicopter team’s designated curfew for grounding future transportation became a concern. Their limited air traffic protocol was his only saving grace in this situation that guaranteed that Gideon couldn't keep him all day long. This was one of the few times he appreciated the strictness of the Connections and their rules over the ARK’s inhabitants and Zeno's own supervised ‘freedom.’