Fighting the nausea and headache, Joe found himself at the end of a long dark hallway. The thirst burned and scratched his throat, worn out from screaming against the blackness. Lawrence was nowhere to be heard or found.

He clawed through the dark till he found gentleness, a padded wall. Resting his cheek against it, he tried to listen for sound on the other side. The wall was gently vibrating, but no distinct signs of life could be heard. Sighing in resignation, he traced his fingers along it and pulled away, collapsing to the floor in a heap in tears.

Where had this all gone so terribly wrong? For that matter, just who, what and where was the woman in leather? Hazily, he recalled the black patent leather pantsuit and the rose red smirk that went with it. All of those…questions. And the overwhelming serene feeling before the darkness took him.

He wiped the tears from his eyes and stared into the void. It must be some form of prison, he thought. But none of the VirCorp detention centers looked or felt like this. Judging by the vibrations, he posited that they were transporting him somewhere for execution. It’s always too much of a hassle to explain to the authorities why two employees unexpectedly died on your corporate property. Then why had he and Lawrence been separated?

He sighed once more and staggered to his feet. As he bent upwards, he saw the flash down the hall. He paused, watching, as out of nowhere dancing lights of every color coalesced into a single flood lamp at the end of the maze. He blinked and shook his head, thoroughly dazed. Straightening up, he rested his right hand on the wall for guidance as he took one timorous step forward. He slowly drew his left hand across the light, blocking it out. It cast shadow. Clearly the glow from the lamp was real. He began cautiously walking towards it.

When he was fifty meters away, the glitter of refraction twinkled in his eye. It danced like the flood lamp had before it coalesced. He blinked and proceeded forward. As he got closer, he watched it form into glass beneath the lamp, projecting the shadow of a bottle across the floor.

“Oh, no.” He wheeled about on his heel and stared into the darkness. “I know what you’re doing,” he croaked. “It won’t work! Are you listening? It won’t work, so you can let me out of here right now!”

Just then, a warm female giggle echoed through the darkness. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. It washed over him like ice water. He sank to his knees, clutching his heart. He looked up at the light, gasping as the pain continued to come in chuckling waves.

He pounded the floor and staggered to his feet. “It’ll take more than vodka and some deranged leathery tart giggling to break me!” What was he saying? Alcohol and women were two of man’s biggest weaknesses. He shuddered and tried to build a wall around his heart.

Fighting through the pain, the earnest rage swelled within him as he charged the mood-lit bottle and drew back his leg to punt in into the darkness. As he followed through the world spun around him, he landed on his back, the wind completely knocked from his body. The giggle grew into roaring laughter. He gasped air into his lungs and sprang to his feet, growling.

“Enough fun and games, Lucy!” Every nerve ending in his body tingled with rage. As he approached the bottle again, hell-bent on its destruction, the laughter grew to deafening volume. He covered his ears and staggered to the wall. The bottle sat on floor meters away, mocking him. The volume diminished and he unclasped his hands from his head. He closed his eyes and swam with the pain. He whispered to the darkness.

“What do you want from me?”

The laughter stopped abruptly. The voice came back, more soothing this time with just a hint of French accent.

“I want you to relax, Joe. Have a drink and we can talk.”

“I don’t want a drink,” he croaked. He brought his hands to his eyes and leaned against the wall.

“Oh, but you do! I know these things about you. When things go horribly wrong, when life screws you over you just have to have a drink. It makes everything right with the world for a time, doesn’t it? Don’t you want to be right with the world again, Joe?”

He slid down the wall, sobbing into his hands.

“Don’t you want to be right with the world, Joe?”

“No!” it was a plea, more than a command. The laughter came back, swarming over him like stinging wasps. He waved his arms wildly until the laughter finally stopped. He regained his composure and watched the swinging overhead lamp for a sign from God.

“Why don’t you want to be right with the world, Joe?”

“It’s not me that has the problem, Lucy Leatherpants.” He felt around in his pockets for a cigarette. Sure enough, they hadn’t taken them from him. He lit up, not caring that the caustic smoke would only worsen his thirst. His nerves needed soothing more immediately than his thirst needed slaking. “Do you Nazis mind if I smoke?” He proceeded to toke away before the voice could reply.

“Not at all, Beloved.” The voice grew warmer, seemed to come from inside him.

“Come again?”

“I said I don’t mind at all, beloved.” There was no mistaking the voice now. It was that of his dream girl, the ideal one he had imagined being with since his youth. But she only existed in his head. After Marie walked out, the thought of this ideal woman came to visit him on lonely nights. Joe laughed, the resigned laugh of a madman seeing the men in white coats come for him after a night of flashing old women out for a walk. He slid down the wall and hugged his knees.

“So this is what madness feels like, isn’t it? I hope they’re paying you extra for this.”

“What do you mean, baby?”

“You can’t be her. She never existed.”

“Am I really, now? It’s funny you should say that. I never really left you, did I?”