Opening Act Ch 03

Author's note:

Opening Act has been such a joy to write. This final chapter has a lot packed into it. It's long, dark, depraved, and if you've read the first chapter of Parasound, you might have some idea how it ends. If not, you'll surely know by the end how Parasound begins.

Thank you for reading. Please enjoy.

Jazz never believed in happy endings.

She supposed Vic and Ana thought of their night as a happy ending of sorts. Laughable, considering Vic was very much in a relationship and Ana seemingly never considered him that way until last night.

She didn't see this progressing in any kind of way that ended happily for her. Jazz was always the outlier among them. She didn't think it mattered, but she was dead wrong. Last night she was upset and the two of them just let her go so they could go fuck somewhere unperturbed. Being tossed to the side like that felt shitty.

But still...

Jazz was an empathetic person, unlike her so-called friends. Even if they didn't care very much about her, she still cared about them.

Vic said Ana was in trouble. If she wasn't, why would he have even bothered to mention that they had sex? No, he was actually concerned. In spite of her anger, Jazz couldn't help but feel he was telling the truth. The way she acted last night wasn't her. Flirting with Vic and sleeping with him? Too out-of-character to ignore.

She was going to give him one last chance. Hear him out and decide from there how far she would be willing to stick her neck out for the friends she thought she knew.

A feeling of unease bubbled up into the pit of her stomach. Something wasn't right.

Happy endings.

She didn't see how this would end happily for any of them.

Jazz picked up her phone and typed her response.

Jazz: go on

Vic: she wasn't acting right

Vic: you and i both know she didnt like me like that

Jazz: yeah.

Vic: isnt it strange?

Vic: she does that study and is all over me the next day

Jazz: not interested in your self aggrandizing

Vic: idk how else to put it

Jazz: just get to the point

Vic: the point is that she changed after that day

Vic: she was

Vic: different than i would have guessed while we were together

Jazz: don't make me fucking puke

Vic: its an important detail okay

Vic: i dont think i could have been more pg

Vic: anyway

Vic: something else happened at the end when we were done

Vic: it was like she had a really bad headache

Vic: she said something was wrong

Vic: and then it went away just like that

Vic: she pretended like it was no big deal but something definitely isnt right

Vic sent his text. He was holding back, even though he knew it was wrong. He told himself that he would tell the whole truth if she didn't agree to help. He didn't want it to come to that.

Jazz: what are you asking me to do

Vic: you have an admin login right?

Vic: for almost everything?

Jazz: holy shit victor

Vic: ive been poking around on the vpn and i think i know where the files on the audio therapy project are

A half-truth. Jazz responded quickly.

Jazz: what exactly are you asking

Vic: i cant get in on the vpn and i will definitely need admin access to open the folders

Vic: i need your creds

After a minute or so of not so much as an ellipsis from typing, Vic sent another text.

Vic: please jazz i really think ana is in trouble

Vic: im not asking you to believe me

Vic: im asking you to trust me just this one last time

If Vic was right, this went way beyond just Ana. There wasn't a chance in hell that she would have agreed to...

whatever

happened to her. If they were fucking with people's brains without giving them the whole truth...

All of this hinged on Vic's proof.

Vic: if i get caught, ill tell them i stole your creds

Vic: youll prob get in trouble but you wont get fired or like blacklisted from the field

Vic: if theyre doing this shit to her then what else are they doing?

Jazz put down her phone and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms. She was tired. From work, from happy hour, from this conversation. It was too much. But if Vic was right and she didn't act, she would never be able to forgive herself. He could have been lying. This could have been the most elaborate phishing test in all of ProdinaMed history, but it wasn't. Jazz felt it in her bones.

Jazz: how exactly do you expect to do this?

Jazz: cause if this is true, it has to go to the press

Jazz: and the fucking police

Vic: i need to get to a computer thats whitelisted

Vic: probably valentines

Vic: from there i can copy them down to somewhere else to be sent out of the network

Vic: if the computers are whitelisted like i think they are theyll be watching external traffic on them like a hawk

Jazz: so my computer

Vic: no

Vic: mine

Vic: with you at the desk

Vic: no audit trail

If she wasn't already convinced before, she was now. He was really prepared to take the fall if shit went south.

Jazz let her mind go blank, cleared the noise. A skill she learned from meditation. She separated all the facts, all the variables, weighed all the pros and cons.

If something bad,

really

bad was going on at ProdinaMed...

She couldn't let it go. She thought of herself as a good person. The person who would do the right thing, speak up if something was wrong.

It was a risk.

A risk she had to take.

Jazz: okay

Jazz: im in

Friday Morning

Vic put his bag down on they conveyer belt and stepped into the metal detector. He held his arms over his head, trying desperately to quell his rapidly beating heart. He studied the faces of the security guards.

ProdinaMed was a big company with an inconceivable amount of power. He couldn't shake the thought that his texts with Jazz could have been monitored somehow. For that reason his heart skipped a beat when the guard asked him to step to the side.

He tried his best to act calm, but he could feel his face going flush as the guard glared at him. The guard led him to the side and said something Vic missed.

"Sorry, what?"

"Can you lift your arms up please?"

"Oh... yeah."

He lifted his arms as he had in the metal detector and the guard traced a wand around the shape of his body. It picked up something near his hips.

His keys.

"Shit, I'm sorry. Do you want me to step back through?"

"No," the security guard said dismissively. "You're fine. Go ahead and grab your bag."

Vic walked over to the guard at the x-ray machine, who handed him his now open and rummaged-through backpack. He zipped it up and threw it on as he walked towards the elevators.

I gotta chill the fuck out, he thought to himself.

Jazz sat at her computer, willing herself into a casual attitude. Everything hinged on her staying calm. She could do that.

She watched the online statuses of her friends. Vic came online. Ana was still nowhere to be found. She opened the work chat they shared.

Jazz: ana out today?

Vic: not sure

Vic: shes probably just running late again

Jazz grabbed her phone. The work chat was too hot. She disabled her wifi and sent a text to Vic.

Jazz: she was early yesterday

Jazz: are you sure about this?

Vic: let me text her

Jazz: okay

Jazz: keep me updated

Vic: everything okay?

Vic: we're missing you at work

He gave it a good ten minutes. It felt like an hour. Ana was late often, but rarely so late that she slept past their starting time. He texted Jazz.

Vic: been more than ten minutes

Vic: nothing

Vic: maybe she called off and she's avoiding me because of last night

Jazz: yeah

Jazz: thanks for the reminder

Vic rolled his eyes involuntarily.

Jazz: let me text her

He waited again. Another painfully slow fifteen minutes passed before he caved.

Vic: so???

Jazz: nothing

Jazz: lets just focus on the plan here before we freak out okay

Vic: yeah

Vic: you're right

Jazz: mark's calendar puts him out of office from 11 to 2

Jazz: i have a line of sight

Jazz: ill tell you when he leaves and then youre up

Two and a half hours until Mark's office was empty. The longest two and a half hours of his life.

10:39 a.m.

Still no sign of Ana.

Jazz used the bathroom twice already this morning, but she had to go again. It couldn't wait. Mark was still in his office. Would probably be leaving soon, but she had no idea how long it was going to take when Vic got in there.

She stood up and made her way to the hallway. Bailey and Gina waved as she walked by and she offered them a quick smile.

Before she could round the corner, the elevator dinged. She jumped at the noise, but the people who walked out knocked the wind out of her lungs.

Security guards. Two of them.

Jazz avoided eye contact and made her way to the bathroom. She ran into a stall, locked the door, and grabbed her phone.

Jazz: fuzz

Jazz: our floor

Jazz: just got off of the elevators

Vic: what?

Jazz: SECURITY victor

Jazz: why the fuck are they here?

Vic: i don't know!

Vic: maybe they patrol the floors

She almost sent the text they undoubtedly both expected to come next.

When have they ever seen security patrol the floors?

It wasn't worth it. If it was just routine and they never noticed it, they were in the clear. If it

wasn't...

well that was proof that Vic was right and this was more dangerous than she wanted to believe.

Which made it even more important that they got what they were looking for.

Jazz: just hang tight

Jazz: keep an eye out and wait til i give you the ok

Jazz let out a shallow breath. Three hours. That's how long Mark's office would be empty. It could wait. There was no need to rush. Not yet. She pulled down her pants, happy to discover that she hadn't pissed them in the hallway.

10:52 a.m.

Vic was watching the seconds tick by when his phone screen lit up.

Jazz: hes out

Jazz: even left the one way on

Jazz: how lucky

Vic desperately wanted her little half-joke to calm him down. It didn't.

Vic: am i clear?

Jazz: i dont see security around

Jazz: do you?

Vic: no

Vic: i didnt see them come through the cubes at all

Jazz: okay good

Vic waited again. He couldn't tell if Jazz's text was the 'ok' she meant. He almost wanted her to tell him stop, no, it wasn't clear, let's try again tomorrow. He wanted her to say that Ana just walked in and that it was all a big misunderstanding and that last night would never be spoken of again.

His phone buzzed.

Jazz: youre up victor

Jazz: in and out

Jazz: easy as that

Vic's heart pounded. He took a deep, hollow breath.

Vic: wish me luck

He stood up. Slowly at first before thinking about how strange that would seem. He needed to confidently walk over and into Mark's office. Like he was supposed to be there. Vic stepped out of his cube. His feet felt heavy. Loud. The two or three people who turned to acknowledge his trek sent his nerves spiraling. This was normal. People were nosy. It was fine.

After an agonizing journey to his boss's office he grabbed the handle. What if it was locked? What if he couldn't get in? What if someone saw him try to get in and reported it? Vic was frozen. He needed to move. He was being suspicious. His hand trembled.

He pulled the handle.

The door swung open.

Vic dipped inside, letting it close behind himself. He immediately turned around to his right and leaned back against the glass. His heart wouldn't stop. Vic took several deep breaths to calm himself. His phone buzzed twice. He ignored it at first, turning to look out at the cubes. People just going about their day as usual. No one was looking over towards him. No security guards lying in wait, ready to pounce.

Vic got ahold of himself and went to grab his phone out of his pocket.

"Can't wait to quit this shitty fucking job," he mumbled under his breath.

Jazz: saw you get in

Jazz: omw to your cube

Jazz stood up, phone in hand, cool as a cucumber. She kept her breathing under control. Her heart was beating a bit faster than she would have liked, but she could only do so much. She casually sauntered over to Vic's cube and slipped inside.

Jazz: made it

Jazz: whats going on

Vic: logging in now

Jazz waited. Her heart slowed in the relative safety of Vic's cube.

Vic: fuck

Vic: its here alright

Vic: jesus

Jazz: quit the dramatics

Vic: they really are fucking with people's heads

Vic: girls heads

There was a pause. Jazz's heart revved up again.

Vic: transferring to a temp folder in the c drive

Vic: you can look for yourself

Jazz navigated to the folder. More files were filtering in every second, but the folder at the top caught her eye.

Project Earworm.

She opened the folder and brought up several files to skim. Her stomach sank and her face went pale.

Vic: i need you to look while i find things to copy

Vic: give me details jazz

Jazz: its so much fucking worse than we thought

Jazz: oh my fucking god

Project Earworm was not

just

messing with people's heads. It was a complete rewrite of how parts of the brain worked. Changing the affected's entire reward system to make them desire sex above all else. Friends, family, life goals... all of it pointless to what the documents sickeningly called the 'host.' Every part of their brain became geared toward the one singular goal of fucking anyone they could.

Jazz: theyre brainwashing people vic

Jazz: for sex

Jazz: ana was brainwashed

Jazz: IS fucking brainwashed

Vic: what the fuck...

Vic: how is that even possible

Jazz: i don't know and i don't fucking care!

Jazz: lets worry about getting these to someone who can stop this

Jazz: im gonna fucking vomit this is disgusting

It was unbelievable. It was impossible. But the facts didn't lie. Ana slept with Vic. She wasn't acting like herself. She was missing. There were too many official documents for this whole thing to be fake. Vic was uploading gigabytes of data to the folder. Design documents. Bills. Logs. All there.

The room was spinning. Jazz felt sick. She thought for sure that she was going to throw up until a text from Vic grounded her again.

Vic: stay with me jazz

Vic: i need you to find a way to help ana

Vic: there has to be something

Jazz: yeah

She navigated through the various folders before finding one labeled 'Candidates.' Her morbid curiosity got the better of her. She opened Ana's folder to find several video files. The thumbnails gave her a glimpse into where the videos took place. The first few looked to be in what Jazz thought were probably rooms in the Audio Therapy department. A couple clips in some kind of examination room. One in a room with walls covered in some kind of black circles with a metal chair in the center.

The next few were more familiar. The reception desk on their floor. The supply room behind the desk. Mark Valentine's office.

But the last video was the most unsettling of all. It wasn't very good quality, obviously zoomed in. Jazz recognized it just like some of the others. It was a shot of Vic's apartment, filmed from across the street.

She wanted to stop but she couldn't. She made sure the volume was down on Vic's computer, looked behind herself, and opened up one of the exam room videos, taking care to make it small enough on the screen that any passerby wouldn't be able to make it out.

In the video, Ana was ushered into the room by a dark-haired woman in a lab coat. She was completely naked and looked disheveled. Jazz's immediate instinct was to turn away, but she kept watching. She skipped forward. A man in a suit stood in front of her. His pants were pulled down his legs, leaving only his underwear to cover himself. Ana quickly sank down to her knees, pulled out the older man's dick and started to suck it. Jazz couldn't believe what she was watching. It felt fake, but she knew in the pit of her stomach that it was real.

She skipped forward one last time and feared she would never unsee what she saw.

Ana was bent over the table. The old suit-wearing, brainwashing son of a bitch was fucking her friend from behind.

And the worst part?

She was loving it.

Jazz closed the window and doubled over as if she had been kicked in the stomach. It was

so fucked up.

So

fucking

twisted. They were brainwashing girls for what? So that they could fuck them all they wanted? Turn them into enthusiastic sex slaves? Make them fuck other people too? Vic certainly didn't know, otherwise he wouldn't be sending her this shit to turn them in. So why Vic? Why did they let that happen? She backed out of Ana's folder. There were at least twenty other folders, all with different names. Another bout of nausea crept in before her phone buzzed.

Vic: i think i found something

Vic: check the diagnostics folder

Vic: debugging

Jazz pulled herself together and opened the folder. It detailed a method with which to make changes to the user's brain. The instructions made her shiver.

Vic: it looks like we can induce a diagnostic mode on her

Vic: send out some kind of waves or something with any wifi adapter and that program in the folder

Vic: that can change her back!

Jazz: youre glossing over a big fucking detail there dude

Vic: what do you mean

Jazz: oh i don't know, just the shit you have to do to get her brain in the diagnostic mode in the first place!!

Jazz: "the host must be asleep and actively penetrated by another subject to activate the diagnostic mode"

Jazz: so what youre proposing

Jazz: is that you stick your dick in her while she's sleeping to do this huh??

Vic: i don't know jazz!

Vic: maybe!

Vic: would you rather she ends up as their sex slave or something???

Vic was right and Jazz fucking hated the fact that he was right but he was. She wanted so desperately for there to be another way, but they didn't have time to find out right now.

Jazz: lets just finish this up

Jazz: where am i sending this vic?

As Jazz waited for the last of the documents to upload, she picked through some more files, eventually coming across four folders labeled 'Phase 1" through "Phase 4." Something in the back of mind told her to open Phase 4.

She opened the folder.

She opened the document labeled 'Phase 4 Outline.'

She read the entire thing in one frantic, nauseating pass and desperately fought off her intense urge to scream.