.”“Get your game face back on. We know the company is rotten. Go back to work.”I’d been giving a lot of thought to those human injections of Z...8687. Though diabolic, I could understand the ruthless logic with the National Guard. But why me?
 There wouldn’t be much scientifically useful data had they found Barbara Reynolds and tested me for a tumor. Only theory I could come up with was that I’d annoyed Drake Fowler with that tracker. He’d show the fucking snoop. Because he could. And because he. I'm a team player. If you want to be a sissy, you're in theright position for me to get things started," she said slyly as she leftthe room again.She returned in what seemed to a hour later with a trash bag and a pairof scissors. "Sissies don't need boxer shorts, do they?" she asked rhetorically. Islowly shook my head "no."She proceeded to go through each and every pair of boxer shorts that Ihad, even some that had never been taken out of the package, and she cutthem into ribbons, placing. More

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