Rules of Fatals

“Dr. Angela Hasforth.” Angela sat with her hands on the bare table in front of her. She was in a grey pair of pants and a shirt. She looked at the man who spoke. He had come in where she was sitting and waiting in one of the private questioning rooms that this prison had.

Ones where lawyers talked with their clients, and normally those rich people who had the money to pull strings and get such things, unlike the general population. Angela had money, but that wasn’t going to do her any good anymore. She had not asked for this meeting. She had been summoned with no choice to refuse. Maybe it was something useful for her, got her out of her cell anyway. Nice to get a break from staring at walls.

She was on death row, waiting for an appeal she wasn’t going to get. Angela knew she wasn’t going to win and get out of jail. It was mostly to get her off the death penalty, but she really didn’t know what was waiting outside these walls anyway. She was labeled a killer out there.

Some condemned her actions, others wrote her daily, thanking her. Guess you really never knew what others were thinking. Someone could try to kill her out there or would treat her like trash. The point was, outside wasn't exciting to her now. Her career was over, but she didn't regret what she did.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know you,” Angela said. The man came forward, tall and proper. Had a small briefcase that seemed rather retro to her this day and age. Angela frowned as he sat down. He wore a nice suit, it looked expensive. He also had on a pair of sunglasses, very strange.

“You wouldn’t. We’ve been following your case, not one ounce of remorse for your actions. Seven accounts of negligent homicide, four premeditated murders, and one charge of assault,” he said, pulling out some papers. Angela did not respond. Who was this guy and what did he want with her? She didn’t need her charges and convictions said to her. She was aware.

“Your chances of getting reduced sentencing or even appealing your way out of the death penalty are quite low. Why no remorse for your actions, if I may ask? It does sway them sometimes. They like those who repent and see the light,” he said as he seemed to organize his papers. Angela sighed.

“If you were following my case, you know why. No one will shed a tear for those who didn’t get back up off my table. Drunk driver kills a family, why should I care? Did my best. Father raped his daughter and died drinking the wrong thing, not going to make me loose sleep,” Angela said dryly. Then she continued so this man would know she wasn’t going to beg others for anything. She had simply been weeding out the trash.

“Funny how a murderer or pedophile who dies on the table makes the doctor who was in charge one too. No one cares about those men, and if those who convicted me cared about killing others, I wouldn’t be on death row. Kind of hypocritical if you ask me,” Angela said. Though she wasn’t on death row for the negligence charges they could not prove.

“Much like your Hippocratic Oath, no?” He asked and Angela felt like rolling her eyes. Bite her, she did do anyone harm. Race, religion, sex didn't really matter. It was their actions, their deeds and she didn't think that was breaking her oath. Again, she'd let murders and rapists die on her table. Who cared?

“What do you want? Who are you?” She had no idea why she’d been brought here to talk with this man.

“Doesn’t matter who I am. It matters what I have. I am with a special group of people Dr. Hasforth, those who search for special cases. Special people with different skills that can help us keep… horrible things in control. You fit what we are looking for, and if you want off death row, I think you should take this opportunity,” he said. Angela slowly pulled the papers toward her. Her dark blonde hair was tied back at the moment. Her blue eyes cynical.

“You are a meticulous woman, was a renowned surgeon and doctor who saved many lives. You know how to follow rules and procedures well, you just messed up once and were found out,” he said. Angela still didn’t know where he was going with this. Yes, just one of the cases had led back to her.

One mistake, but you know what they didn’t know? She had more in that count than she’d been charged for. Angela would never lose sleep over the trash she sent to the grave. Didn’t matter if she saved countless lives otherwise. All that mattered were the few they had proof of that came into the ER and she let die. Guess the story of how she got here and what she did, didn’t matter anymore. She was going to die in this prison.

“I was. Look, is there a point to this meeting? Are you offering to be my lawyer because…” Angela stared, knowing that her story had been big news. A celebrated doctor turned killer. Were these papers him hoping to sign her to him?

“Not at all. I’m offering you work, a transfer. You will still be locked up in a sense, but working and living in a far more normal way. Take a moment to read through this document. You agree to the terms no matter how bizarre they are, you will be relocated and given a living space, a job, and be provided all the basic necessities. You just won’t be able to leave the compound,” he said, and Angela really frowned.

“What kind of joke is this? I’m on death row. I was convicted of the four. I’m not strolling out of here,” she said, thinking this was some gimmick. As she pushed the papers toward him, he put a hand down and stopped them.

“Read it, Angela. It is very real, and you are exactly the type we want. That strong moral compass, not weak where it counts. Besides, this is an offer you can’t pass up, living in a normal space and all you have to do is follow the rules. Do what you are told, and who knows, maybe you can escape your fate one day,” he said, gesturing to the papers. He didn't smile, just gestured to the papers.

Angela stared at him for a minute, trying to decide and then slowly pulled the papers back to her. This guy seemed official, and he’d been let into the prison to talk with her. So she didn’t think this was some reporter, as she had not been given the choice to talk with him.

Curiosity got the better of her, and she picked up the papers to read. There were quite a few, and it did not seem like he was going to get up and leave until she answered.

With a heavy sigh, she started reading, and at first it was rather standard jargon about work and compensation. Then, as she read more, she felt like she was being pranked or something. By the time she got to the last page, she wasn’t sure what to think. All she really understood was that if she signed on to be a doctor at this… unknown institution, she would be wiped from the system. Angela Hasforth would no longer exist, either she lived her life out in the service of this strange governmental contract, or she died here. It did say this was a for life contract.

“I sign this and what?” Angela asked.

“You leave with me right this minute. To the world, Angela Hasforth is found dead in her cell. You will be trained, fed and get to keep your life as long as you follow the rules,” he said. The way he said follow the rules had her frowning.

Angela looked down at the papers and then held up a hand. Whatever, if this was some prank what did she have to lose by signing? She just read the whole damn thing, just humor him and go back to her cell. He just sat there silent as she read. Very patient in her opinion, that was something she appreciated.

“Perfect, I knew you would agree. We’ve had our eye on you for a bit,” he said and handed her a very strange ink pen. She looked at the sliver tip and raised an eyebrow.

“Didn’t know ball point pens were a problem. Have ink?” She asked sarcastically. His smile was dark this time.

“Just sign, it will work,” he said and she gave him a look but put the dry inkwell pen to paper and pretended to scribble her name. So dumb, however, as she finished the A in her name and flowed into the next with her invisible signature, she winced and dropped the pen halfway through Angela.

Her pointer finger was bleeding as something in the pen had jabbed her. Her eyes widened as the pen she dropped didn’t drop at all. It finished signing her legal name and then fell to the paper. Her name in red ink, but it wasn’t red ink at, it sure looked like blood.

“What the hell?” Angela said, leaning forward, shocked at a pen signing on its own. What kind of fucked up technology was that?

“Perfect,” he said in a satisfied tone, grabbing the pen and paper. Now, if you would Dr. Hasforth,” he said, standing and snapping his briefcase closed. He motioned for her to head with him to the door.

Angela stood up looked at her finger that had a smeared drop of blood. She frowned and then looked toward the door. He stood straight and had a serious look. He motioned a bit more sharply.

“Dr. Hasforth,” he said, and Angela moved toward the door, looking around, but it was just him and her. No guards, no one else. She suddenly had a very bad feeling in her gut. What did she just sign? As she came to the door and he walked behind her someone opened it for her.

Another man dressed the same way, looking very much like the men in black. She would have laughed if she wasn’t being led down a hall out of the prison. She was loaded into an unmarked car in the parking garage, and then they sped away from the prison, no one stopping them. Angela was silent for the entire ride, and so were they.

That was how she knew whatever she had just agreed to on a whim to get out of that prison was not a joke. She had no idea how much sitting on death row for the rest of your life would be better than where she was about to go. Far less dangerous, but it was to late for Angela to turn around now.