MY NAME IS CALLED DISTURBANCE
by Daryl P Holloman

They huddled together in an austere sort of fashion, their white lab coats mocking one another as the occupants conferred among themselves. Nodding and muttering, they jotted notes on their clipboards, pausing to cast hurried looks over their shoulders at the quivering mass of humanity that was imprisoned in the sterile room beyond the protective glass that separated the analysts from the subject of their discussions.
Inside the sanitized cubicle (strapped in a state-of-the-art straight jacket) the subject looked straight ahead, rocking back-and-forth with his arms draped around his drawn-up knees.
“Commander! What shall we do? Where are we? How did we get here? Why are we trussed-up so much like meat? Where are the others?"
"Steady, Orator, steady!"
The subject's eyes surveyed the surroundings, settling with an eerie gaze, intently fixed on the ‘mirror’ that hung ‘ever-so-innocently’ against the concrete prison-cell.
On the other side of the ‘mirror’, the three men whispered to one another as they continued to jot notes on the sheets of their clipboards.
"Look at him!” exclaimed one, "What a waste of department resources!'
"He's too valuable to discard,” said another, "at least until we discover why he turned against us."
“Look at him," scoffed the third analyst, "he is of no use to anyone. He's just a 'Crazy Eight’. Listen to the fool, babbling to himself as it he were talking to a roomful of people.”
“Just keep monitoring his progress!”
The three turned in surprise to see a fourth analyst scowling in their direction. Fire was leaping from her deep green eyes as her ruby lips snarled a command to the three.
"Your duty is to observe and record Jack's progress!"
The fire continued flashing in her eyes as she spread her shapely legs in an authoritative pose, accentuated by the fists planted firmly on the delicate curve of her hips.
"Do I make myself clear, gentlemen!"
The three nodded hurriedly, tumbling with their clipboards and coughing nervously as they pretended to review their notes, rather than look their superior in the face.
"Commander! It's Watson! Watson has found us! I knew my colleague would not fail us!"
“Are you sure?”
"Yes! Yes! Just beyond that 'mirror'! Watson is there! I can feel her! And she can see us because that 'mirror' is really an observation window!"
The analysts shuffled their feet uncomfortably, looking from one another, to the window, then to the woman who observed them sternly and back to their clipboards for safety.
“The 'Crazy Eight' knows!” muttered an agitated analyst, half to himself and half to no one in particular, as he cautiously peered past his clipboard to see what his superior was about to do.
The woman was looking at the subject beyond the observation window, lost in thought that was beyond the ability of a divinator to ascertain.
“His name is Jack!” snarled the attractive blonde, whirling about defiantly, her bosom heaving against the clinging white coat, causing the nametag 'Dr. Watson' to thrust forward in such a way as to cause the men to swallow dryly with great difficulty. This was a woman to be desired secretly, yet to be avoided at all costs, no matter how your blood began to roll and boil as you watched her body swivel inside the lab coat. There was something secretly inviting, yet disturbingly deadly about her demeanor in regards to the prisoner within the secret government compound, where the analysts served nameless authorities for countless mysterious sanctions best left undiscussed.
“You know as well as I" purred the Doctor, “that Jack's codenames have taken on personalities of their own since Jack's unfortunate accident. We are here, not only to observe his condition, but to help him to remember what happened, so we can clear his record of the false accusations leveled at him."
"How can you be so sure that he is innocent of the charges that have been brought against him?' questioned one of the men, not merely to know the answer as much as he desired a better view of the shapely doctor standing at the window.
“Look, you animal," hissed the doctor, “I know!"
"Holmes."
"Yes, Commander'?"
"Are you sure its Watson?"
"I'm sure, Commander."
"Indeed, my good man! Can you not discern the most brilliant deductive mind of our glorious company? You may be the undisputed strategist of our little coterie, but Mr. Holmes here is impeccably the best to unlock the mysteries before us."
"I need not be reminded of that Orator. It just poses a problem that we were not ready to deal with just yet."
"Are we not men of action, dear Commander? Is not Houdini even now devising a way to free us from this disgustingly sanitized prison?"
"Easy good fellow I do not need your oratory to defend my sleuthing skills."
"And must I remind you both," said a stern voice originating from the same trussed-up body from whence the other voices emanated, “that those who betrayed us are even now observing our conversation. Take heed to be discreet in what you reveal to our captors in your 'innocent' talk amongst yourselves! We must not tip our hand just yet."
"Yes, Commander!" came a chorus of voices cascading through the captive's mind.
"Now Holmes, it what you say is true; that Watson is outside this room as an observer..."
"There's no doubt about it, Commander!”
"Very well, Holmes. Someone had better go inform Jack before he messes up our plan of escape that Houdini is crafting at this very moment."
They could not believe their ears. Doctor Watson was about to enter the confinement cell for a ‘private' session with a prisoner who was deemed to be a national security risk.
"I realize that the only reason that I am allowed to make this decision is because I am the superior authority in this 'forgotten' wing," Doctor Watson thought to herself as she advanced towards the sealed door, oblivious to the mutterings of her staff.
Watson's mind wandered back to that fateful day when Jack was strapped to a restraining table, babbling incoherently as a multitude of voices spoke forth from a body that had miraculously survived the car bomb that exploded on the outskirts of a rural tent revival where Jack had gone to meet with his ex-wife and children.
Officially, the public was informed that a faulty ignition system had shorted out and caused the explosion that took the lives of Jack's former family.
Unofficially, the agency decided that Jack had activated a car bomb to eliminate both himself and his ex-wife, who reportedly was willing to give a deposition detailing Jack's shady dealings with ties to foreign powers that spoke of treacherous liaisons and treasonous activity against the country he was sworn to protect and serve.
What the agency did not realize, was that Jack and Doctor Watson had been secretly married. It was not a difficult thing to hide, because Jack was also a master of disguise. There were a variety of safehouses where the two could rendezvous; for unknown to all but a select few, Watson and Jack were secretly serving in a counter-intelligence capacity, searching for certain parties who were newly suspected of selling government secrets to the highest bidders.
Jack had found something. What he found was not clear at the moment, but she was determined to find out as the door closed silently behind her.
"Hello Meriem."
"Hello Jack."
“She came to witness my greatest escape!”
"Houdini! Be quiet before you blow our cover!"
"Ah! Watson!” spoke up another, "How splendid! I knew you would follow the clues. You must tell TH.E.M.'My name is called Disturbance'!"

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