Defective - A Psychopath's Tale

Chapter 39

Holland

"I need to get blood, plasma too. Some lactated ringers, saline, fentanyl, hydromorphone, or heroin. Something for pain you know. I'd prefer the first two over the street drug or good ol' morphine." My girl was telling me.

I knew what to do. I had my own bag of tricks, not as fancy as mister Yuovich's, though equally effective in given situations. Zandie handed me a list of what to grab. I gave it a quick read and committed the names to memory. I thought posing as a technician for Gel-Donn would be my best bet. Gel-Donn always had technicians at major hospitals. Now I only needed the proper documentation.

"How long until you're ready?" My girl asked.

"45 minutes." I answered.

She gave me her 'no bullshit' look. It was my pat answer whenever anyone asked me a time frame that I expected to be less than 45 minutes. This time, it was an accurate estimation. I needed to pull the right images for my ID badge, forge a letterhead for work orders, fill in all the appropriate information, which needed to sound legit and find signatures from the right people. And those signatures would come from Gel-Donn, MercyBluffHospital administration and at least a colonel or higher within the Imperial Division of Public Health.

"Actual my lover, maybe less, but 45 is a real estimate; there's a lot of crap to do." I told her so she'd know I wasn't shooting shit at her.

Her lips tightened and she nodded. My lover girl did alternate identities, she knew well the intricacies of forging documentation. I taught her how, then she improved our techniques. The forgeries she created needed to be confirmable on many different levels, mine would only need to look legit.

"And you're sure he's at Mercy Bluff?" Questions, questions, questions, always more questions, girls and their questions.

"Yes dear Zandie, one mister Gordon Grove was admitted via the emergency room after he went unconscious; the 911 call was placed by a miss Lucinda Von Mercy from the Crestview Hotel." I answered her. "An unusual coincidence that miss Mercy's call would be taken by Mercy Bluff." My mind was always working, many times on things it had no reason to bother with. Such as the names of the hospital and girl.

Yes, a girl. I had been seethingly crass with Nicholas; telling him to go fuck a slut, something like that. I was angry, defending my lover. Yes, I'd known well why Zandie had always refused my invitations of marriage. Part of her held out for Nicholas to return for her. Mister suave and debonair.

Seeing him again I believe made her realize whom truly loved her; brought to the forefront of mind whom had always been there for her, stood beside her through whatever life hurled at her, whom kept her warm at night. Yes, I did feel a small victory in this; more than small, intellect and devotion had ousted, defeated and prevailed against charisma and charm. I earned the right to be Zandie's husband. I worshiped her.

To keep a fine girl like Zandie Xayarath required more than stunning good looks and an oversized cock. A goddess such as Zandie Xayarath demanded a boy that would always be there for her and hold her in the esteem she should be held in. I was that boy. A fantasy is just that, a fantasy; reality is where we live, and the reality of Nicholas Gagucci was that he was simply a novelty of fantasy. Holland Fuzzy one, stud-muffin zero.

Lydia deserved him, they deserved each other. A sociopath and a psychopath, the perfect match. Both shallow and out for themselves, hedonists without morals or conscience. Nothing more than empty shells of humans. Thankfully, they'd never be able to reproduce; he with his vasectomy, and she without a fully functional uterus. This made the world a better place.

"I can't find a registry on him, or a record of the call." My goddess called out to me.

"My precious, look on my computer, you're probably not accessing at a high enough level, it's not in the public files yet." I told my lover.