His eyes grew heavy as he watched the screen for seventh hour straight. The boy was still lying on the bet unmoving. He looked at the clock; it was going on one in the morning. Yawning, the man looked longingly at the door, wanting to go to the bathroom and eat so bad. Ten more minutes till his shift was over. But, he thought, the time here and at the boss’s would be a few minutes off. He brightened at the idea of calling in and leaving early. It was decided. Picking up the phone next to the screen, he dialed the number, and listened to the ringing.

“Yes?” A voice that seemed like a dark silk cloth answered. “Is this a check in or has there been movement?”

“Check in sir. Still no sign of movement.” He hesitated before continuing. “Sir? May I suggest moving in now?” Only breathing answered so he continued. “Because, he hasn’t woken and he shouldn’t for a several more hours. Plus we’ve already identified him as our target.”

“No.” The voice breathed, sounding suddenly ragged, but not harsh, patient. “I need to be one hundred percent sure, and have all my men there and ready.”

“Alright sir. Whatever you say … but may I take a quick bathroom break? My replacement hasn’t arrived yet.”

“Yes, but be fast. I don’t want him escaping.”

“Yes sir.” He hung up and ran off to the bathroom.

A few minutes later he returned with some food. He didn’t even bother to look at the screen, and just started gorging on the reheated pizza. Finally he turned and looked; his replacement would be here in about a minute or two. The pizza dropped, hitting the floor with a sucking slap, the watchman stood frozen, jaw dropped, staring at the screen. It was empty! The bed, the room, the kid wasn’t there! Rewinding the tape, he saw one minute the boy is sprawled across the bed, hands hidden by the nightstand and the next: poof, gone. Face still glued to the screen, one hand reached over and called the boss.

“He’s gone.” He whispered shakily before the boss could start, and for a moment there was only silence.
Then with a sigh: “Sound the alarm. I’ll be there momentarily.”
The boss put the phone down, sighing as he spun a graphite covered bouncy ball on the tips of right hand’s fingers. His casual dress wouldn’t cause you to think he was a man running an empire. He wore a simple grey tee and khaki shorts, his short hair an almost strawberry blond, and his eyes a light blue that were almost constantly bright … except when dealing with Jack’s case. One thing that would make a person suspicious of anything was his size, at almost seven foot, and completely covered in thick large muscles, he would easily catch anyone’s eye, especially Jack’s.
“Mr. Karason. Why do we need Jack anyway?” His second in command asked from his chair and small desk in the corner of his office. “We already have every other Denmate that’s survived, and even some of their offspring. What’s one more Virused? … And even if we get him to work with us, do you know how much trouble he going to be?”
“Of course I know.” Karason said roughly. “I was there from the beginning.”
“Khristopher. Leave him.” The boss spun around in his large chair to face his tiny assistant; the years had been hard on the kid, he was a twig, pale, and fear had been struck into him so badly that he did everything to try and get Karason to change his mind about Jack. At that moment, both thought about his betrayal of the early days, how Jack had just barely held back from killing him, and then did even worse: forgave him and left him to torture himself over his decision.
“Taylor, we both know that Jack’s a hotheaded, uncontrollable, time bomb. He’s a loose cannon, unpredictable, and storm just waiting to break. But he’s just we need. The battle’s coming and we won’t survive without him on our side. Plus, we all need to put some things behind us and move on. It’s just not the same without him.” Karason stood and left for the Watch Room, leaving Taylor to stare in fear out the window behind his boss’s desk.