You awoke sometime later, a thick fog impeding your thoughts. You remember that you were attacked and being treated against your will. You strongly suspect that your treatment is actually the Mobification process which is being given a new body and brainwashed.
You know one possibility is to act as a fall person for someone else's crime, another is that somebody at the top just wanted a younger body though this is a lot of extra work in that case. Just leaving a head on the street would have been easier. Maybe this body's head got executed and/or they want to expand their ranks. You likely won't know until its too late but it'll be the difference between being set up to fail vs being treated as an equal.
Not that you really want to be able to move up the ranks of a criminal organization. After all, you are just a Junior in high school leaning towards going to college for a degree in business. But you want to be a jail sacrifice much less.
"Hey Nick! How you feeling today?" a familiar voice from the door called. You lolled your head over to see who it was and weren't surprised to see Mr. Blackbeard carrying a tray.
"You're gonna be my handler." You accuse with as much venom as you could muster, which wasn't really any. Your voice much deeper than usual and full of gravel, though that could just be the drugs.
"No Nick, I am and always have been your friend, handler came after... I talked to the Doctor's about your having memory issues, they said it would be good for me to try to jog your memory with familiar things. I went to your designated safe house and got some of your basic supplies, I also went into my encrypted personal cache on my computer and found some old photos of us."
You tried to formulate a sentence refuting his claims and declaring your intent to fight this process every step of the way, but your brain was having trouble forming words and Mr. Blackbeard continued without interruption.
"First, let's clean you up, shall we?" He grabbed shaving cream and a disposable razor from the tray.
You snickered, knowing you just shaved yesterday and you only need to shave twice a week, and even then, your dirty blonde hairs aren't too obvious or long.
The man began putting shaving cream on his hand and brought it to your face, you turned your head away and grunted in defiance. The man thanked you for giving him easy access to the side of your face... Well that failed, and even that small act of rebellion used planning, forethought, and basically mental faculties that were beyond uncooperative.
He began his work and reminiscing about the time you met up, having stolen your dad's razor, and he his dad's shaving cream and performed your first shaves in front of one another at 15. He went on to confide that he was always jealous of your ability to grow out a full bushy beard within a week and explained that he always keeps a beard so he could rapidly change his look, and you always remain clean shaven because within a few days of lying low you can look like you've had a beard or goatee for months.
It was a quaint story but it wasn't fooling you. You're a 17 year old with a lean build and dirty-blonde hair. it would take you the better part of a month to grow stubble and even then, the lightness of the hair would make the endeavor pointless. "Uh-huh" you grunted disbelieving. You wanted to add "sure" and something really sassy but your brain wouldn't think of anything and your tongue was feeling heavy.
Thankfully, your sassy tone was strong enough that your 'friend' picked up on it. "What? You don't believe your old friend Adam?" He had shaved one side and still had the front and other side to do. He grabbed your face and gently turned it to face him, This was the first time you got a good look at the straight razor he was wielding. You immediately decided not to jerk away while he was holding that.
'Adam' smiled at you warmly, "Wanna make a bet? I'll remind you that I only make bets im sure Im gonna win... I bet you've still growing a beard just as fast as ever."
"Humpf" you scoffed rolling your eyes witch was really dizzying, with the drug cocktail they were giving you.
Adam held up a white towel and wiped the razor on it. He squeezed the shaving foam turning it back into liquid, and unfolded it presenting a smattering of dark specks of hair everywhere.
You gasp. It's only been a day! You feel panic coming but it quickly fades away in the cocktail of chemicals you already having going though your veins...
Adam pets your face, the side he shaved, then he moves his hand to the other side and lightly scratches, you hear and feel the bristles, already past the short pokey length.
You suddenly feel a weird sense of trust in Adam, its completely absurd but you like him. He's always treated you nicely and ... what are you thinking!
Adam goes back to shaving you, and you cant help but listen to his stories. As expected pictures came out with a version of your head on a strange body. It was probably the drugs but as Adam was telling storied, your imagination showed you the places and you imagined this person doing these things. This is true for the quirky anecdotes as well as the violent crimes. Adam was a master storyteller and you couldn't help but be taken away.
After what must have been a couple hours of talking, though in your drugged state and without access to a window you truly had no idea, he asked you not tell the doctors and grabbed a pack of cigarettes off the tray offering you one. which you refused, disgusted.
"You finally quit? That's great. I have yet to find that will power." and Adam lit one up. You watched him smoke it and weirdly felt happy watching him enjoy it. He said bye and you felt a twinge of sadness at his departure which you scolded yourself for.
You had a very brief window to consider your feelings and surroundings but without any external stimuli, whatever sedative they have you on quickly took back over.
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What you didn't realize was that part of the chemical cocktail was an on command shot of oxytocin and dopamine to make you feel a 20 year old bond with Adam that doesn't exist. A few days of this and you will love him like a brother.
Nicotine has been doing its work keeping your heart beat elevated. The machine encasing your new body has been programmed to mimic having a cigarette every 15 minutes, and when they turn it off you will have a new chemical dependence which Adam will use to convince you that being a snot nosed goody goody 17 year old was some weird concussion induced fantasy.