Body-Boutique Protection Program - Part One

Sitting in the dark damp room, the concrete walls around me faintly illuminated by two small lamps on the floor, I can't help but shiver nervously. My blood runs cold as I grip the metal bed beneath me, the memory of what had led me hear playing in my head over and over again.

Alleyway

Shouting

Gun

Bang

Over and over that night plays in my head, the sight of the dead man laying in the alley beside the entrance to my apartments god damn garage. The sirens, the interviews, and the threats all raced through my mind, a cold sweat building and leaving the cloying damp air around me feeling all the more disgusting.

I lurch up from my seat at the foot of the metal gurney as the nearby door swings open on its rusty hinges, a doughy yet well dressed stocky woman in her mid-fifties pacing into the room as she waves her hand in an attempt to settle me down.

"Calm down now Mr Hughes" she coos softly, her voice hushed as though others were listening. Glancing up at me from beneath a set of small reading glasses, her pale green eyes look be over along with the hodgepodge series of machines sitting at the far side of the room.

The soft dark haired woman, adorned in a rather expensive albeit it poorly fitted black suit, slowly plods her way towards me as she quickly checks her watch. 

"Agent Miller should be here shortly" she huffs, walking up beside the cold steel bed before slapping at the head of the uncomfortable seat with her pudgy hand. Glancing back I stare at the metal cage resting right where a pillow or something far more soft and inviting would normally be sitting, the flickering lights covering the frightening frame blinking and pulsing in an almost hypnotic fashion.

"Come now Hr Hughes" the older woman chirps, once again patting her hand beside the intimidating metal cage. "This is just standard procedure for the Body-Boutique Protection Program."

For the longest time, the Witness Protection Program had run in an otherwise conventional yet very successful manner. Most who entered the system, so long as they followed the rules given to them, tended to be safe and sound as they continued on in their new lives created from whole cloth.

However, like with any system those planning and designing it were always looking for further ways to improve it and combat those who continuously fight to find any form of weakness. It was through this lens that the program had first reached out to the Body-Boutique, a designer and creator of lab-grown and made-to-order bodies.

While many knew of the Body-Boutique as the playground of the rich and the site of the rare yet ever popular flash sale, it didn't take long for the company to become a silent and secret partner to witnesses in need of protection across the country. While designing and growing a new body from scratch was far out of the program's budget, the Body-Boutique had more than enough bodies that simply didn't 'work out' or 'live up to their clientele's high standards'

These 'Off-Cuts' were often included as bargain basement items in the Body-Boutiques flash sales, or merely disposed of as ethically as possible. However, at the insistence and pressure of the Government these 'Off-Cuts' were quickly repurposed to a new purpose, The Body-Boutique Protection Program. With a team assisting in building background and documents required to solidify the fake life surrounding the 'Off-Cut', and agent would be assigned to be transferred into the body and to begin to build this new life.

Once a person required the programs protection one of the current agents would be pulled from the field, their own mind being transferred back into their body to make room for the witness to take over the life the agent had built up.

More often than not, the agent would be more than happy to get back into their own body and not just due to missing their former life. Behind each of these 'Off-Cuts' was something wrong, an issue that made them no longer fit for sale or to fulfill whatever contract they had been designed to satisfy. Unseen allergies, strange sensitivities, faults in the genetic meddling, issues in the mental conditioning or failures to understand the assignment were all reasons that could lead a body to wind up in the 'Off-Cuts' along with so many others.

 

As I slowly begin to shuffle back, laying back onto the frigid metal surface beneath me, the older woman clears her throat as if to get my attention.

"We are on the clock Mr Hughes" the older woman notes, adjusting her glasses down as she shoots me a disapproving look. "The Body Boutique will be remotely accessing this system any minute now to begin the process, so unless you would like to live out your days in a holding cell under 24 hours surveillance until the trial then I would suggest..."

"I know, I get it" I huff, my hands shaking as I slowly inch my head into the metallic cage at the head of the gurney. My eyes water as I ease myself into place, the strobbing lights burning my eyes as the odd pulsing slowly causes my head to ache and throb.

"It's just that thi..." I begin to explain, my mouth falling open and my tongue hanging from my lips as I feel something strum on my mind like a guitar string. My eyes twitch and my muscles freeze as a whirring sound builds behind me, a gently massaging tug inside my head pulling on my mind like a puppeteer toying with the strings of their trade.

I try to lurch up from my seat, the signals from my brain quickly being cut short as my arms and legs flop and fumble weakly against the metal slab. A series of pathetic gurgling syllables escape my mouth, a disjointed and flailing series of nonsense sounds that seem to be a piecemeal collection of half words and phonic phrases.

"There we go..." the older woman sighs, patting my arm gently before slowly walking away from the table. "Apologies Mr Hughes, but as we can't use the normal systems for obvious reasons we need to... warm you up first before pulling you out and putting in the new programing."

The pudgy woman paces around the table and towards its twin beside me, her fingers drumming along the metal as I feel the tugging and warping inside my skull building and easing away over and over as I continue to babble nonsense.

"Don't worry" the older woman begins to explain. "The new programing will keep your body alive and active. It's the same as what they use in the Body-Boutique's sales floors, minus the salesman tactics of course" she continues with a chortle. "It'll eat, sleep, exercise and most importantly follow orders like a..."

With a loud groan the door swings open once again, the older woman reaching for her belt and beneath her jacket before slowly easing her hand down to her side.

"Agent Miller" she states, her eyes narrowing towards the figure beyond the darkened doorway. "You're early, are you that eager to get back to desk duty?" she chuckles softly, trying to ease the sudden burst of tension that had overcome her.

With straining vision I try to focus on the door frame, the flickering hypnotic lights doing little to help me see into the dim space beyond the room. Sitting stunned by the machine I watch as a...