Dolly never answered.
Bradley found his fingers curled around his phone in a vice, eyes blurring from the intensity of his stare as he anticipated a response. Amidst the chaos around him of shouts and concerns he felt himself in a bubble, their voices muffled in his focus. The passage of time was not well accounted for in his state, and by the time he became frustrated enough to look away from his phone he noticed the room thinning.
If they all got the same message, they were all Narcs. And if Dolly was watching them, and heard the announcement, she would know what they all were. She knew. She exposed them.
Why the meeting? Why the update in the Patch?
"Idiot," he whispered to himself as he shot up from his seat. Embarrassment flushed his cheeks as he formulated the reasoning behind the mass text. Dolly had lured him into a sense of safety with her clever words making him believe she was one of the good people. But she was one of them; one of the ones rounding up Narcs and exposing them.
As he rushed from the meeting room, he saw Dolly's former lover up ahead. Finn had been in the meeting, too, and now had been exposed as a Narc just like the rest of them.
"Hey!" Bradley called out. "Hey, Finn, wait up!"
At the elevator, Finn paused and glanced behind him, a brow lifting at the sight of the man calling after him. He knew a lot of people, and he was generally good with names and faces, but there was a lack of familiarity there, and usually when someone knew him and not the other way around, it wasn't for good reasons…
But keeping his expression even, Finn nevertheless nodded, "Hey What's up?"
Catching up, Bradley stooped into the elevator and cleared his throat, eyes casting about to the others crowding into the space. He couldn't speak freely here, but how to get a stranger to willingly speak in private?
"I, uh, I don't know if you remember me from that therapy session," he began as he rambled through his words, "or whatever it was yesterday. But, uh, I remember you because of, well, yeah. Anyway, I was wondering if after the meeting you might have had a phone malfunction… You know, like funky texts or something?"
Looking to the man, the corner of Finn's lip turned up in a smirk as he shrugged, "...Pretty sure we all got the same malfunction there, Bud. Sort of why I'm jetting for the elevator, you know?" His eyes flickered up, ever so slightly, to the camera in the corner of the hallway.
"Right," Bradley said, a small nod following to fill the space of silence as he tried to figure out how to express his findings. "A little annoying, I suppose. Damn emojis. But uh if we all got it, I think someone is messing with us because of the therapy group. You know? We were all in it. And for a reason."
Bradley lowered his voice and his head downward, mumbling his next words, "Don't trust it."
Frowning, Finn eyed the man, nearly leaping out of his skin as the elevator bell chimed behind him and the doors opened, "Don't trust my phone?" He knew what the man was suggesting, though… and it had been a thought it his mind as well, a thought he'd been avoiding since the very first text, "Look… Don't stress, too much, yeah? I think one way or another, we're gonna figure out what all this is about, pretty soon."
The meeting. The next meeting, of course. Bradley shoved his phone in his jacket pocket, Dolly's paper note crinkling with the shift. "I don't know that I want to," he admitted. "I think my phone is broken. I'll just get a new one."
Walking out of the elevator, he turned, wishing he could better explain his stance and all that was happening, but there were far too many eyes and ears about to really fill Finn in. And so he turned towards the man and shrugged. "Maybe you should look into upgrading your phone, too?" he suggested. "All these meetings are getting kind of strange with these malfunctions."
Shaking his head, Finn shrugged, "Whole system is a giant malfunction." Looking over to the other man, Finn scratched uncomfortably at the back of his neck, "All I know is… I gotta get answers from someone, and ain't many more options out there." As he stepped out behind Brad, he glanced down to the monotone vibration coming from where the man had tucked his phone, a brow lifting, "...Sounds like someone doesn't want you to upgrade."
Pulling his own phone free, he smirked, shrugged, "Just you this time, Bud."
"Shit," he cursed under his breath, heart racing as Finn confirmed it was only him this time. "You can't trust answers from people like this. Dolly never died. She's in on it. Watch your back."
Bradley pulled his phone out as he turned back around to head to work once again, giving it one final look before he intended to destroy it entirely.
SENT 8:00 AM || UNKNOWN NUMBER
I'm sorry sweetie. I'm so sorry. Needed to send it to everyone. They know something. They know we're planning something. The new patch is a trap. Please, please don't take it. Will tell you more tonight. Please. You'll understand soon. Just trust me a little while longer.
A frown formed on his lips as he read through the text from Dolly. His fingers swiped to unlock the screen and type a response.
They know you're planning something, and so you expose a bunch of us in a mass text? Smells like sushi to me.
Hitting send, he turned the phone over in his hand, fingers brushing against the smooth surface of his case before prying it off with some difficulty. He likely went through too many protective measures to keep his phone safe, thus making the entirety of his efforts to destroy it quite difficult.
Which was undoubtedly the only reason she had time to call him, before he was able to…
The vibrations definitely didn't match the short burst of a text message. It was long, frantic, and a bit too loud against the plastic protective covering half off its frame. Bradley turned over the phone to see the call was from an unknown number, hesitation lingering as his finger hovered over the screen. He could let it go. He could destroy the phone now and be done with it. Screw it all!
But the itch to know more swiped his finger across the screen and he brought the phone up to his ear. "Make it quick," he said quietly. "I need to report back to work."
Her voice was a whisper, almost frantic, but the emotion behind it was unmistakable… fear, coupled with something else, something slightly indistinguishable, "I can't talk long, Brad. I shouldn't be calling you… but I… You have to know Brad, I would never, ever hurt you. I had no choice. The text. If they know, then it doesn't matter… you're already exposed. All of you. I had to get it out there, before they get to you. Please, sweetie… you have to believe me. I know you have no reason to, but I…" Pausing, she fell quiet for a moment, and when she continued again, the tone was different… softer, somehow, "...You still wear your socks inside out? I know how you hate the seam on that scar. Where you stepped on the nail."
No one knew about that. It wasn't something Bradley openly admitted even to his own family. It felt silly to do it, but it was too satisfying not to. With a shake of his head, he couldn't decide if he wanted to talk to Dolly anymore, and it felt hard to breathe.
"I…" His voice trailed off. "I've got to go or I'll be docked."
"Say you'll come, Brad. Please. I need to know you'll be there…"
There was always a strange feeling when talking to Dolly that he couldn't quite place, though he blamed it mostly on his nerves jittering due to the subject at hand. She sounded so dire, so genuine that his paranoia could calm and allow the possibility of trust even in the fear and panic.
"Sure," he finally said. "I gotta go."
"I know. Be careful, Brad. I'll see you, soon…" There was a click a moment later to indicate that she had hung up, and in the silence that briefly followed, Finn approached.
"...You gonna explain what the hell you meant by that, there? About Dolly… Cause I'm not exactly in the mood to translate crazy right now."
Finn's sudden presence caused Bradley to jump, spinning about at the sound of his voice. "It's…" he trailed off, eyes looking about as he remembered they were constantly being watched.
"She's the one sending the messages," he whispers as he leaned in close. "I saw her last night. We talked. I would explain more but we need to get back to work or HR is going to be up out ass tomorrow."
Finn's fists clenched at the words and he took a step forward, eyes narrowed, but as he moved, he remembered his own night… the things that he and Uma had witnessed and paused, almost as though he had been frozen midstep, he shifted, "...Yeah. Yeah, good point. I'll see you around, Bud." He said, coolly, and with a shake of his head, he turned, wandering off in the opposite direction.
He was a threatening sort of man, and Bradley was thankful to be away from him. If the meeting were indeed true and Dolly were to be there, he wouldn't have to bother explaining any of it to Finn. He wouldn't have to face the possibility of a black eye. That's too risky of a business for people like them to do anyway.
Time stretched on now that Bradley anticipated something in his life. The shipping center was just as fast paced as normal with the constant comings and goings and lifting and shifting, yet each hour ticked by like it were trudging through molasses. The drugs he was on to keep himself awake began to escalate his anxiety and panic attacks to where he had no choice but to flip to the mellow high too early.
His shift eventually ended with enough time for him to scurry over to 1913 Hamish Avenue. With the tension of the entire situation it was likely the depressants wouldn't cause him to fall asleep.
The Lower Class District was a sore sight of a statement upon the economy, but even for Bradley it was home. Slums tightly packed down each street decayed with the workers' inability to afford upkeep either due to time or money. Despite there being no sleep in New Miami, it seemed like most wished to escape the near constant work hours with more relaxing or fun activities. Were it not for Bradley's liking to cleanliness he would fall into the same category.
While all the hustle and bustle was located in the recreational veil of clubs and bars, 1913 Hamish Avenue was located away from the neon lights and rowdy crowds. Rain began to dampen Bradley's jacket as he flipped up his hood over his mop of hair, hands shoved into his pockets to protect the contents from the elements - and shifty fingers should he even come across another person.
He didn't dare use his GPS to locate the secret meeting location. And yet, his phone was still with him, and it suddenly unsettled him. People were suspecting Narcs about. Possibly suspecting people in his therapy group, and they were likely all carrying their phones. Their phones with location services. Their phones that could compromise them entirely.
Bradley checked the time on the screen, and it displayed brightly in white numbers:
8:23. Too late to run home.
"We're all addicts," he said to himself, nodding in encouragement as he fabricated a lie. "The message was a dealer. This could pass as a House for sure."
Stepping out of the rain, Bradley continued his train of thought more internally. Voices carried from inside, guiding him into a dingy room with two occupants. It was an ill fit for the likes of Dolly. She stood out like a diamond in a coal mine, and looked just as pressured.
"I'm early," Bradley stated, but then paused as he slipped his phone back out of his pocket slowly. "Or am I…?"
