“Now, I would normally scold people for causing their bodies lasting harm, but I am beginning to think that I shouldn't think of you as a person,” Dr Fidelis told Troy, as the doctor helped him get out of his skin-tight suit. “Could you indulge me in how exactly you managed to go for so long when I can see that a good part of your upper leg-muscles is convulsing?”

“You just have to ignore the pain and move on,” Troy answered, trying not to pay any mind to the awkward situation. It had been a good while since somebody had helped him take off his clothes. Age had not made the experience any better, and the young man dearly wished he could have done it himself.

“Yeah, I don't think that argument works here,” the doctor answered back, tugging so that the last parts of the suit could get past the foot. The youngest person in the room had been positioned on a chair, allowing his body to be used as the older people pleased. At least Dr Hale had the decency of looking away. “Your body should physically have been unable to walk. Are the pain receptors in your legs even getting all the way up? By now, it should be something along the lines of temporary paralysis… can you feel this?”

“If you are talking about you pinching my ankle, then yes I can. Please stop,” Troy requested, already having a hard time ignoring everything else coming from those damned legs of his. Pain, cramps, muscles being weird, and his bones felt like they were grinding up some form of metal. Had they implanted screws in there when he wasn't looking? Because he was definitely feeling pain in areas he had never noticed existed before.

Having gotten off the suit fully, the doctor carefully folded it before putting it in the special corner on the floor. It was not the most appropriate of places to put an extremely valuable piece of recording equipment, but nobody was around to judge them but themselves.

Troy got his hand on his clothes quickly enough, as they were close to the chair he had been put in. There was a bit of struggling to get everything on correctly, but in the short time, he looked as professional as he usually did, with enough clothing on his body to not get called in for workplace harassment.

“So… how are we going to do this?” Troy questioned, testing out the workability of his legs once more. While he might have been able to receive signals, the legs were ignoring almost all of his instructions. They did not budge in the slightest, no matter how much he tried. The only reason he knew that he was not fully paralysed was due to his ability to slightly wriggle his pinkie-toe. This did not help him in the slightest with walking though. “I don't think I can walk to the cafeteria in this state.”

“Neither do we expect you to,” Dr Fidelis said, rummaging through his desk drawers, making a mess inside the containers. There was probably some bloke out in the world getting a heart attack from how unorganized the man’s workplace was. Even the young man who was not the most boxed person in the world could still see that intervention needed to be made soon.

“Do you have a foldable wheelchair inside that desk of yours?” Troy asked, mildly curious about just what that old doctor was trying to find. It was clear that something was being searched after, but what that was exactly was unknown. Maybe a remote used for dramatic entrances?

“No, I checked before we got you out of here. We are not in possession of any of those here, and the closest storage facility is not equipped for medical equipment. I could technically send a runner with one for us, but that would take thirty minutes,” Dr Fidelis explained, making a happy muttering after he finished. The man got his back up straight, with an enclosed syringe in hand. “As we are on a strict schedule, I decided to use more… direct solutions to today’s problems. It is not one we normally use for a situation such as this, but I believe that nothing negative can come out of this. Say, Troy, do you remember the name of the biological enhancer you used a few days ago?”

Okay, the young man was not liking the sound of that. Troy would likely have created more distance between him and the doctor if his legs had cooperated. A few ancient curses were thrown in that part of his body, but the response was nothing more than pain.

“I can't say I do, sir,” Troy answered, suddenly becoming a lot more respectful when the person he talked to had a needle in their hand. He was not generally a person who was squeamish about such objects, but there were only so many accidental eye-stabbings one could witness before it became too much. The only thing stopping the man from jumping off the chair and crawling away was that the sharp end still had the plastic tube attached, stopping it from stabbing anybody to death. “Does that stop me from being a part of your unique solution?”

“Not at all, buddy!” Dr Fidelis happily reassured the defeated soul, putting down the needle to rummage through the top desk drawer once again. This time, the searching only spanned a few seconds, as if the doctor knew exactly where the other needed item was. Pulling it out with a swift tug, the object revealed was… another demonic needle, hellbent on the destruction of everything Troy cared for. “Just had to get me a small precaution. If you somehow get an allergic reaction, I will be stabilizing you for long enough to sign off on me not having any responsibility… I am kidding! You don't have to look so fearful, you know. But no, seriously, if you get any reaction of any kind, I will be stabbing this into your spine.”

Well, if that was not reassuring for a very disturbed Troy, then what could possibly be? Wasn't like he was eyeing the exit, weighing the pros and cons of trying to escape. Would he make it ten meters, or would the doctor catch him before he even hit the floor? Knowing how that man could be so extremely fast when it pleased him, it was likely the latter.

“Just get it over with, please,” Troy said, presenting his bare arm, ready to be stabbed through. Dr Fidelis laughed, as he prepared the needle, taking off the plastic and making sure that everything was sterile enough for him.

Coming over with quick steps, the doctor spent second angling up his shot before swiftly making the kill, and inserting the needle into where it needed to go. Troy oversaw the entire process, making sure that the man did not mess up on purpose to make it possible to take another shot. Luckily enough, the action looked successful enough, as the syringe was emptied of all contents.

“There. All done,” Dr Fidelis said, putting the syringe on the desk, before going over to the young man once again. “Okay, Troy, it is at this moment where you need to tell me if you have a splitting headache. If you do, I will run to my desk and get the other needle. If you don't have a splitting headache, I can still get the needle if you want to.”

“Yeah, no, I don't think I will be taking you up on the offer,” Troy answered, trying hard to see for any effects. Nothing different could be felt. His head did not pound, there was no trouble breathing. His arm was not swelling up to unimaginable sizes, and he was generally feeling like he had been before.

“Truly a shame. A waste of resources in fact,” Dr Fidelis stated remorsefully.

“You did not use it, so you can use it at a later time instead,” Troy fired back, not being taken by those damned crocodile tears. Having now been over a minute since the needle had entered his skin, nothing felt different still. “And, when is that stuff supposed to take effect. More importantly, what is it supposed to do exactly?”

“You can call it something of a more refined biological enhancer. It is only a temporary measure, but it will help you through the day easily enough. As to when it's supposed to take effect? Let's test that out real quick.”

Pulling an unsanitised needle out of his breast-pocket, Dr Fidelis promptly used it to stab Troy in the knee. This did of course cause the young man to talk in a very heathen tongue, saying a few words relating to the doctor's parental figures, while also kicking out in reflex at that disgusting vermin that had been allowed a-

Wait. What?

Troy had to physically look down at his right leg, not fully comprehending what he had done before now. He had moved his leg on command. The leg that was supposed to have been uncooperating. Now that he thought about it, the pain had gone away as well. No convulsions, no cramps, and no waves of pain were rolling against. Nothing felt weird. Everything felt normal.

“I don't think that anything can be this fast-acting,” Troy stated, trying out his legs from the comfort of a chair for a bit longer, trying to find any errors. They felt fine, with not a thing wrong with them. As they had been coiling with pain not a minute ago, it was unquestionable that the man had a right to be a tad suspicious.

“And you would be right with that attitude,” Dr Fidelis answered, the man seeming to look past the younger one’s previous outburst. Which was a very good thing, as Troy had no idea how he would excuse those actions. “Technically, your muscles are still extremely damaged. But, along with a stimulant that stops most pain in your body from being noticed, you now have an extremely fast-acting healing property to you. It works horrifically with open wounds, but it can heal muscle tissue in a pinch. Could you try to walk a little?”

With slow movements, Troy tried to get off the chair. He was unsteady at first, unsure about putting too much pressure on his appendages. However, his fear was unneeded, as there were no problems at all. Nothing could be found to be wrong, and he was more than ready to take off.

“Everything seems to be working,” the young man commented, trying to flex his muscles to find any errors one last time. “Is there anything more that we need to test out before we go for lunch?”

“I would prefer to throw you right back into the puzzle room, but the law prevents that,” Dr Fidelis acknowledged with a heavy sigh. Troy did not feel like that sigh should have been included, but who was he to judge? Sadists were born that way. “But, the two of you should use your break for lunch, as you said. You can go. I’ll even open up the door for you.”

Dr Hale, who had been hanging out at the back of the room, put her notebook in her pocket, before walking towards the exit. The young man mirrored this, not wanting to stay in that room a second longer.

“Ready to get some lunch?” Troy asked, feeling the need to talk to somebody rational.

“We are not getting lunch today,” Dr Hale answered, walking in the opposite direction of what they usually went. The young man was forced to follow, dreading his choices in life.

Was he just cursed? Magic was impossible, but he was sure that quantum mechanics could explain his terrible luck in life. And if it could be explained, it could be exploited into ruining somebody’s life.

Because exploits were always fair game.