Trapped in the machine and at the mercy of the investors, our lead watches as they approach with several cases and various bottles. With the hood locking him in place, his face is sprayed and painted with various chemicals before the investor holds a device onto his lips. With the hiss of an injection, the contents of a vial are forced into his now flash plumped lips. The investor gives him a pat on the cheek before she turns and collects two gloves from her partner. Filling the fingers with more goop, they’re slipped over our leads hands and wrapped in place.
The dryer eventually spins down and the man’s hearing finally recovers. The investors explain that they had a deal with his aunt. They funded her business and lifestyle and, in return, she used her salon to... deal with people for the investors. Sure, some times it was forced but some times they had clients that needed to hide or escape to a new life. Rumors abound that a lot of those people were hiding from the mob and/or police, but the investor group didn’t ask questions as long as everybody was paid in full. As our lead has found out, the process was also good for dealing with people that lacked good business sense.
An investor replaces the man’s shoes with boots that force his feet to point down before nodding to the others. A partner disconnects the hood, leaving a bobbling plastic bubble on the man’s head, like an inflated shower cap. As they force him to his feet, he can feel goo sloshing around in the dome as they walk him over to the fitness center.
In a back room surrounded by various machines, an empty tank with a treadmill sits center of the room. They bring to the man to the tank and connect various attachments to his legs, hips, and back. With the gloves locked to the treadmill’s bar, the machine is switched on. The attachments force our lead to walk, or more of a strut, as they guide his movements, keep his back straight with hips out and chest forward, with an exaggerated side to side sway. The man barely notices that the investors have stepped back when the tank door is locked shut and the machines kick back into action. The tank starts to fill with a thick, shimmering green liquid, as our lead begs them to stop. He’ll give them the shop, no selling, whatever they want! One of the investors shakes his head and reminds the man that they want him to keep things going smoothly with a minimal transition of ownership from his aunt to him.
The goo stops churning into the tank at just above our lead’s shoulders. It bubbles and fizzes on his skin as the treadmill continues his strut. The investors turn to leave and file out over the man’s pleading. The last one out the door says they’ll give him the night to think it over before turning down the lights and closing the chamber door with a heavy thud.