Hunted Chapter 3

Obadiah Hall walked slowly, pacing down the hallways. He could not get his mind off of anything but those boys. He knew they should have arrived by now. He had sent the teleportation device two days ago! And yet they did not show up. Was the calibration off on the device? It was possible, so they could have ended up in either three places.

One, in the jail cell. Two, somewhere else on the island. Or three, which was in China. He knew for a fact that they were not in the cell he had prepared for them, so he prayed that it was two, and not three. But those nasty children weren't his only problem. He still had problems with finances. Not many people bought his products, and he had just killed his board. But the fortune of his parents would last him a very, very long time.

He heard footsteps behind him. He turned. His butler was here. He did like having a butler.

“Sir,” He said impassively. “A jet has just arrived at section 22X. A man is here who requests to see you. He said to tell you that in advance that he would like Operation W. underway as soon as possible.”

Operation W? Already? Obadiah thought. “Send him in.” He said, and signaled for his butler to go away. Of course, I could, but I need the proper test subjects. And the only ones that proved apt enough are... He clenched his fist, his knuckles turning white. This man, however powerful, and however much he contributed to this project, asked almost too much.

The plans for Operation W. weren't even completely finished yet, they still had some touching up to do. But ah, the irony. The boys were in for a surprise. Back on the island again, and already having Operation W. come after them. Maybe this operation would jog some of their memories, which he knew were struggling to comprehend this place.

Oh, the preparation for this day had taken so long, and just for seven measly boys. Seven boys who made him lose more than half of all of his projects and convinced several funding companies to withdraw their help. All because those horrible adolescents wanted freedom. Well, they should have thought about freedom earlier, when the other 143 children were still alive.

They even killed his business partner in the process, but that was a minor loss. Obadiah had fed him hemlock just hours before he was killed in the fire. He smiled. Obadiah pricked his ears up as he heard doors open behind him.

“Ah, Obadiah!” A voice said merrily. “You look splendid! Is that a new vest?”

Obadiah pivoted, observing the man he now saw in front of him, the only remaining funder. The man was covered in head to toe in a black suit, only blue eyes and his mouth were showing.

“You look same as always, Mr. Sir.” Mr. Sir was the name that the man insisted he go by, also to keep his real name confidential. “Who told you to say those things?”

Mr. Sir's voice dropped considerably. “My wife,” He said gravelly. “She suggests I be merrier. I don't know how merry I can be when I deal with violent, illegal weapons.” He chuckled deeply.

Obadiah smirked. It was good to keep this man amused, as he could be rather... threatening, when not pleased. Obadiah couldn't count the times this man had put a gun at his head.

“But that's not why I came.” Mr. Sir said raising a forefinger. “I came to discuss Operation W. with you, as your butler most likely told you.”

Before Obadiah could respond, Mr. Sir continued.

“I know how you had troubles with all the other operations. I know the symptoms. But I have looked, and put this operation through a virtual reality test. Seeing what would happen, it seems like this is the safest of them all. A little more work on it, and it will be perfect.”

“But you would like me to test it right now, anyways.” Obadiah said warily.

The man shook his head. His black suit had defined wrinkles around the neck.

“Not right now. Work on the formula for one more day. Perfect it. Then test it. But I do want results by tomorrow.”

Tomorrow!

“Mr. Sir, you do understand that I need to get one of the adolescents to help with this experiment. I'm not sure if I can get one, and work on perfecting the formula by tomorrow.”

Mr. Sir let out a sigh. “I know all about your infatuation with these boys.” He said. “I know exactly why you want to cause them death and pain. But would not this provide the right opportunity to do so?”

Obadiah thought about that. A child was a necessary element of creating the monster that would be Operation W. How wonderful would it be when the other boys found out that their fellow had been murdered by the one who had killed all of their previous friends.

“I suppose...” He murmured. He picked up his radio, and turned it on. He clicked the “speak” button.

“Richard,” He spoke into it. “Send out drone 11.2 of the G class.”

A crackled “Yes, sir!” came through the old machine.

Mr. Sir smiled, his cracked lips becoming even more so with his large grin. He patted Obadiah on the back, who frowned. But he was happy at the same time. He had wanted to play his little game with the boys for a while before killing them, but he supposed eliminating one right now wouldn't hurt.

Mr. Sir turned towards the door, preparing to leave. But he turned back to Obadiah.

“One more thing,” He said. “If I do not get a detailed email tomorrow containing the results of the operation, I shall withdraw my support from your project.”

On that note, he walked out the door. Minutes later, Obadiah heard the roar of jet engines, notifying him that Mr. Sir was leaving. Obadiah grimaced. He had a lot to work on. He walked slowly to his office, wondering when the drone would return.