Flash 02: Career Changes

Flash 02: Career Change

The following was inspired by an email from a reader. To fully understand the context of what is happening here, I suggest you read the first part of this story,

here

.

This story contains elements of sci-fi and mind control. I have chosen to put it here after a number of comments suggesting I keep the whole story in one area of Literotica.

My apologies for taking so long to get this part of the story up. We're doing a major remodel on the house, and my writing time has been severely hampered.

Many thanks to QuantumMechanic1957 for giving this a beta read. His suggestions have made this a much better story, in my opinion. I would also like to thank those who offered comments and constructive criticism on my previous stories.

For those who want to say this or that would never happen, remember this is my universe, a place where nearly anything can, and often does, happen. At least on paper...

Please refer to my profile for more on my personal policy regarding comments, feedback, follows, etc. (Yes, I DO moderate comments) And please remember, this is a work of fiction, not a docu-drama...

...

The end of Flash 01: Out of the Blue

"Well, hello, Mr. Drake," she said. "You're looking rather chipper this morning. How are you feeling?"

"Much better, thanks to you," I said.

"I see you came by to talk to your wife," she said. "We'll be moving her in a day or two."

"That's what I heard."

"So, what can I do for you today?"

"Well, I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner with me tonight," I said.

"Dinner? Is that all?"

"Well..." I began.

"Just so you know, I don't sleep with married men," she said, pointing to my wedding ring. "Unless, of course, they happen to be married to me."

"Of course," I said. "I just thought it'd be nice to have dinner with a friend, a way to say thanks for helping me recover."

"Okay, friend, dinner and maybe a drink or two to say thanks would be nice. But that's all. I get off at five. You can pick me up at six," she said. "Here's my address." She handed me a slip of paper with her address, which I put in my pocket.

"I'll see you at six," I said. We said our goodbyes and I headed out. Yes, I thought, things are looking good.

...

And now, Flash 02:

My name is Cameron Drake -- "Cam" to my friends and family. It's been a very hectic three months since my wife, Ginger, fell into a coma after an accident caused by her immediate boss, Chad Wheeler. Ginger is still in a coma, so I come by the hospital every day after work to sit with her for a few minutes.

I sat next to her bed, her hand in mine. I tried desperately to make some contact with her, but there was nothing. I was reminded of the saying, "the lights are on but no one is home." Yes, she was alive, but that was it. Her heart was beating, she was breathing, and her body continued to function. But whatever it is that made Ginger, Ginger, wasn't there.

At the time of her "accident," we were "this close" to divorce. I had even spoken to an attorney and had a post nuptial agreement drawn up after being informed of what I would face in a divorce. I had learned that she had been involved in a seven-month long affair with Wheeler.

Actually, it was much worse than an affair. He blackmailed and drugged her in order to use her as his whore. As time went on, she began accepting her role and had been used by a number of men, including members of her company's Board of Directors and more than a few of their clients. At the same time, she was treating me like crap, making my life a living hell.

I learned the depth of her betrayal after I had been accidentally struck by something that drastically altered my DNA. At first I thought it was lightning, but I later found out it was something else. As a result of that, I developed strange mental abilities, one of which was the ability to "download" memories into my head, which could later be exported to an application on my computer that allowed me to review them.

I could also "hear" thoughts of people close to me and could tell at a glance if someone was being deceptive. Under certain conditions, I could also use my abilities to defend myself and control the actions of others. That's what I used to get my vengeance on Wheeler.

Since then, the two strange men who gave me those abilities -- men I now called "Smith" and "Jones" since I didn't know their real names or even if they had Earth-like names -- had been training me to use my abilities more wisely. They had been coming by the condo once a week over the last three months, putting me through my paces. They even had the nerve to assign homework.

I also took the time to enroll in martial arts, at Smith's insistence. He said it would help me become more disciplined, more focused, and less prone to strike out in anger. Turns out he was right, but my body has been in a near-constant state of pain ever since.

The bodies of Wheeler and the two goons I took out that night in Riverside Park never showed up. About a week after that confrontation, I got a visit from Detective Black. I expected to be cuffed and hauled off to jail, but I got a surprise the night he came by the condo.

"Detective," I said when I answered the door. "Please come in. What can I do for you?"

"I have a couple questions for you, Mr. Drake," he said. "First off, can you tell me where you were last Friday, say, from about 10 pm to midnight or so?"

"I was here," I said, lying my ass off. "And before you ask, no I don't have an alibi. I was alone all night."

"Did you speak with Chad Wheeler that night?" he asked.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact, I did, Detective. I was drunk, pissed off and I called him. Why?"

"I spoke with Lisa Hall, his assistant. She told me you called him and wanted to meet him at Riverside Park. At midnight," he said.

"No law against that, is there?" I asked.

"No, there's not. It's just that no one has seen or heard from him since. We found his car at the park, but no trace of him. Nothing. Nor has anyone seen these guys," he said, pulling out two photos. I recognized them right off as Antonio and Steve, the two goons he had with him. "You recognize these men?" he asked. I shook my head.

"No, Detective. Who are they?"

"The curly-haired guy is Antonio de Blasio. The other guy is Steven Scroggins. Both of them are hit men. Scroggins also happened to be an informant. He was helping us put together a case against Wheeler and his associates." I felt a bit bad about Scroggins, since he was helping the police take Wheeler down, but at the same time, he was about to shoot me when I took action.

"Well, I don't think a computer guy like me could stand up against Wheeler and two experienced hit men, do you, Detective?" I asked with a slight smile. He smiled back. "Seriously. Look at me. I'm just an average guy. If I had gone there, it looks to me like I'd be the one you would be out looking for, not them."

"I suppose you have a point there, Mr. Drake," he said. "Have you heard from Wheeler since last Friday?"

"No, I haven't."

"Why did you tell Wheeler you wanted to meet with him? What did you hope to accomplish?"

"Like I said, Detective, I was drunk and pissed off. At the time, I thought about kicking his ass, but I passed out shortly after I called him," I said as he wrote in his pad. I heard him say "bullshit" in his mind as he scribbled his notes. He clearly didn't believe what I was saying, but he had no evidence to the contrary.

"Did you ever consider what he might do if you didn't show up at the park?" he asked. I shook my head.

"No, I didn't. I wasn't exactly thinking straight, Detective. I was drunk, remember?" He continued writing, but I could tell he was having a hard time buying my story. I decided to get him off track just a bit. "But while you're here, I do have a question for you," I said.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Any word on what happened to my wife's car?"

"Yes," he said. "It appears her car was sabotaged. We found partial fingerprints that appear to be de Blasio's. We also found what looked like part of a remote control device and her brakes had been tampered with."

"So, it definitely wasn't an accident?"

"No, it appears to be attempted murder. My guess is Wheeler wanted her out of the way. We're still putting the pieces together, so we don't have the complete story," he said. "In the meantime, I'd appreciate it if you stayed in the area. I may have some questions for you later."

"I'm not going anywhere, Detective," I said. "I have a job and my wife is still in a coma."

"Of course," he said before leaving. "If you think of anything that might help, please give me a call."

"You got it, Detective," I said, extending my hand. He accepted it and I felt the now-familiar spark that let me know his memories were being downloaded into my mind. I was curious to see how much of a suspect he thought I was. "Sorry, lots of static electricity in this carpet," I said when I released his hand. He rubbed his hand and nodded his head before he left.

When I downloaded his memories into the application, I did a quick scan. Yes, he did consider me a suspect in Wheeler's disappearance, but as I suspected, he had absolutely no evidence to back it up. He didn't have a body nor did he have any DNA, something that irritated him considerably.

He was counting on me to slip up and say or do something that would put him back on my trail. Failing that, it would become a cold case, which irritated him further. I realized I would have to be extremely careful from here on out. I watched an encounter between him and his lieutenant.

"How are you coming on that Wheeler case, Jason?" the uniformed lieutenant asked. Black shook his head as he sat down.

"Coming up empty, Lt," he said. "All we have is his car and a vehicle belonging to one of his goons, but there's absolutely no forensic evidence to indicate any of them were ever in the park. We've had uniforms with dogs go over every inch of that park, and haven't found a damn thing. No blood, no pieces of clothing, nothing. Even went over it with ground-penetrating radar. Still nothing."

"What does your gut tell you?" the lieutenant asked.

"My gut tells me the husband -- Drake -- is involved up to his eyeballs. He certainly had motive, and he had the opportunity. Plus there's that call Wheeler's date told me about."

"So what are you going to do now?"

"I plan to follow up with Drake this evening," Jason said. "Maybe I can get something from him. If not, hell, I don't know. Maybe aliens abducted them or something," he added with a chuckle. I couldn't help but chuckle myself at his last statement. He had no idea how close he was to the truth.

"Yeah, that'll certainly get you that early retirement you've been talking about," the lieutenant said with a smile. Jason laughed as he stood up and prepared to leave. "Let me know how it goes, okay?"

"Will do, lieutenant," Jason said. I ended the playback and sat back, somewhat relieved.

Feeling a bit better about the situation with Wheeler, I took both Lucy and Judy -- the nurses who cared for me in the hospital -- out to dinner. Yes, there were two different nurses, and I took them out on separate dates. I heard from quite a few of you earlier asking about that. They worked different shifts and I didn't see Judy anywhere near as much as I did Lucy.

Our dates were nice, but mostly uneventful. We had a good time and enjoyed each other's company, but both ladies told me right up front they weren't interested in a physical relationship with a married man. My respect for both of them increased significantly upon hearing that.

I've been out with both of them a few times since, but nothing romantic ever happened. At this point, we're a bit more than acquaintances, but a lot less than lovers, or even "friends with benefits." If I had to describe my relationships with them, I would say that at this time, we're more like siblings than anything else.

I spent a lot of time over those three months going through Ginger's memories. Thanks to the accessories Smith and Jones provided, I was able to listen in on her thoughts as I watched the video playback and that helped give some context to her actions.

From her thoughts I could tell that while she responded to what was done to her, she hated what she was forced to do. But that didn't ease the pain I felt as she fucked our marriage down the drain. If she hated it so much, she should've come to me at the beginning.

And yes, they plied her with various drugs and threatened to make her actions public if she didn't go along with their program. They used her and abused her, and had a damn good time doing it. More than once, they laughed as they left her covered in semen, crying her eyes out. I wanted to kill the bastards for doing this to her -- slowly and as painfully as possible.

She handled it by taking it out on me. Instead of coming to me for help, she pushed me away and became an unbearable shrew. Apparently, that became her defense mechanism. It started to change, however, not long before her "accident."

I learned from Smith and Jones that I could actually perform a search on her memories. So I did. I figured there was a chance she could've either gotten pregnant or contracted a disease. I had a pretty good idea that she hadn't gotten an STD as I had myself tested shortly after learning of her infidelity, and her memories revealed that Chad had her frequently tested.

As it turned out, she had gotten pregnant, and was forced to get an abortion. I found the memory and watched as she entered Chad's office.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"Chad, I'm pregnant," she said.

"So, deal with it," he told her.

"What do you mean, deal with it?"

"Just what I said. Deal with it. Take care of it. There's clinics that handle that sort of thing. Our insurance will cover it."

"It could be Cameron's child," she said.

"So what? Get rid of it," he told her.

"I can't do that," she said.

"You WILL do it, and you'll have it done before the next board meeting. Unless, of course, you want your wimpy husband to find out what kind of a slut you really are."

"You bastard," she hissed. "I fucking HATE you!" He chuckled as he looked at her.

"I really don't give a shit," he said with a smirk. "Get that taken care of, the sooner the better," he added, pointing at her stomach. "If you need an extra incentive, try this. You either get rid of it, or Antonio will have a 45-caliber visit with your husband. Understand?"

"You'd really kill my husband if I don't get an abortion?" she asked, shocked.

"I wouldn't. But Antonio would," he said with a wicked grin. "In a New York minute. Think of it as a life for a life. One lives, the other dies. Next time, be more careful with your birth control." Ginger crumpled where she stood and sobbed. Chad let her cry for a while, then ordered her to get out.

"Get out of here and clean yourself up. I have work to do," he told her. She left the room in tears and at that point, I realized I had been far too easy on him. I wouldn't make that mistake again.

She had the procedure done a couple days later and went into a bit of a depression afterward. I remembered that time and recalled how out of sorts she was. I tried talking to her, but she rebuffed all my efforts, finally telling me to leave her "the fuck" alone. I learned from her memories that she did it thinking she was saving my life. She actually contemplated suicide and was set to do it, but changed her mind.

A part of me was glad she didn't kill herself, but there was another part of me that wished she had gone through with it. I felt a pressure in my head and knew if I didn't get away from this I would explode in a fit of rage. I went on the balcony and counted backwards from 100. I finally calmed down when I hit 25 and went back to her memories. After calming down, it hit me that maybe she was as conflicted and confused then as I was at that point in time.

Some time after she contemplated suicide, Chad talked to her about her attitude.

"I know you're in a bit of a funk over the abortion, but you need to get over it," he said coldly. "Women have abortions all the time and they deal with it. We have a meeting with some clients this afternoon, and I need for you to be at your best. Now, snap out of it and get your shit squared away. Understand?"

"I understand," she said quietly. I looked at the date and realized it was the day I saw her in his car.

I switched from her memories to his and began looking through them. I wasn't surprised to learn that he had done the same thing with several other women over the years. All of them were married, and from what I could tell in his memories, all of them ended up divorced.

The men he cuckolded tried going after him, but they all failed, and a couple of them ended up in the hospital after his goons worked them over. Ginger was just his last victim. He was gone now, literally, but there were others who had to pay the price for what was done to Ginger and to our marriage.

One thing kept coming back to me, though. I remembered Ginger's thoughts when I was first in the hospital. She seemed exuberant at the thought of Chad screwing her in our marital bed -- a bed I replaced almost immediately after her accident. Yet, she also seemed to hate him at the same time. This didn't make any sense to me, so I sought counsel from some marriage counselors, hoping they could give me some insight.

They all pretty much told me the same thing -- that without talking to Ginger they really couldn't help me much. But, they all said, it would be very possible for her to hate Chad yet enjoy the physical act of sex with him. One counselor suggested I simply try to get over that and move on. Another asked the age-old question: "Would you be happier with her or without her?"

"Frankly, doc, I really don't know at this point," I said. I later asked Smith and Jones about it. Smith brought up the memory, then used a keystroke combination I wasn't aware existed -- Ctrl-Alt-Shift-E. Another window popped up, showing a number of irregular lines that moved up and down.

"The application not only stores memories, it also stores thoughts and the emotional state of the target at the time," Smith said. "Looking at this, it seems your wife was extremely confused. In your vernacular, she was so mixed up, she couldn't tell up from down. Yes, she hated Wheeler, hated what he did to her and what he made her do. But she enjoyed the physical stimulation he gave her. Don't ask me to explain it. She even hated you a bit for not rescuing her."

"But I had no idea this was going on," I said. "She never said anything." Smith shrugged his shoulders.

"The problem, Cameron, is that you are trying to use logic to understand an illogical situation," he said. "You are thinking logically, which is good. But emotions have their own logic and the two are different. Our people still have emotions, since we still have physical bodies, but we are more disciplined in dealing with them."

"In our studies of human emotions, and how some humans let their emotions rule them, we see that most humans live with contradictions all the time. Your mate's subconscious desire for you to save her, co-existed with and conflicted with her desire for you to save yourself when she tried to drive you away," Jones added.

"You have similar but much lesser tensions when you wish to speed in your vehicle, but also wish to avoid a ticket. The disciplined and rational mind makes a choice and lives with the consequences of that choice. The undisciplined mind, however, weaves randomly back and forth between possible choices. We are assisting you in the disciplining of your enhanced mind. Whether you know it or not, yours truly is a superior intellect as compared to the other beings native to this planet. You will still have human emotions, but you will consciously choose how you act on them. Does this make sense to you?"