Twisting the Truth Doesn't Make It Real

-31 years ago-

It was sharp, the knocking. Sharp enough to rouse Andrew Ward from his semi-drunken stupor. Lifting his head from where it had been sagging against his chest, he scowled and managed to push his way to his feet. His suit was crumpled- he really should have changed when he got home- but he ignored that fact in favor of reaching the door before it could wake his damn kids. He didn't need their whining right now.

Throwing open the door, he was ready to spit in the face of the man in front of him. "Who the hell are you?"

"Fabulous, Cyrus is dead and his son is a drunk," scowled the man on the doorstep. "This is not what he needs at all. You must become sober, boy. For your sake and his."

"My sake is my business," slurred Andrew. "Not your-"

"Actually, it is entirely my business," stated the unknown man before he gestured to his arms.

Dropping his eyes, Andrew blinked rapidly in an attempt to identify the object in the man's arms. It squirmed a little, whatever it was, and after a moment fussing noises began to emit from the bundle. A baby? This man was carrying around a baby? "What's with the kid?"

"You mean your child," stated the man simple. In the blink of an eye, he had swapped Andrew's whiskey glass for the child. It was only the automatic reaction of having two other children that kept Andrew from dropping him. "He's yours now."

"What?!" sputtered Andrew, trying to thrust the child back at this stranger. "No! What? Who the hell are you?"

"Doctor Thaddeus Sims," replied the man crisply. "Your father and I used to work together on....projects. He owed me a favor but, as he is no longer with us, repayment falls to you." Pulling a pile of papers from his suit, the Sims half flung them at Andrew, the papers landing on the child. "I've already had the papers drawn up showing he's yours. He's currently four months old and his name is now Grant Douglas Ward. Take good care of him- he's our most delicate experiment yet."

"And if I refuse?" growled Andrew. "What if I just drop this kid in the nearest orphanage and tell you to go fuck yourself, huh?"

A dark look swept across Sims' face, dangerous in every way you could imagine. "Your father owed a very large blood debt to me. This is the payment. If you kill or attempt to remove from your custody in any way this child, I will destroy your life and everything in it, leaving you as little more than a worthless pile of trash. This child is too important for me to risk losing him in the system. He is the cumulative result of my work. Watch him like a hawk. When the time is right, I will send someone for him." Without another word, Sims turned on his heel and headed back towards the front street. "Have a good evening, Mr. Ward, and remember what I said."