Difficult Offer

“Could you at least understand the situation, Mister Jordan?” commented Staci. Her fingers twirled a worn pencil around on the pad of paper on the table. Her eyes glared hard at the man seated across from her, his reluctance of cooperation only prolonging the issues and her stay in the dark dank room.
Beneath the harsh light above them, the cone of light more on him than her, the young scientist sat incoherent to her words. His left hand stained with mud, blood and bruises rested on the surface like a cold piece of fish, lifeless and heavy after being the subject of ‘attention’ by prior teams there to urge him towards cooperation.
“Our offers have been more than generous, Mitch; may I call you Mitch.?”
“No,” cracked the hoarse voice of Jordan. His expression remained placid, un-moved by her seemingly friendly words.
Staci laughed a bit, noting his bruised and swollen right eye seemed to be swollen shut now. It looked more like a dirty softball after being struck a few times across a field. Painful that must be, but if he wanted to be so stubborn this was the consequences.
“This can be better for you, Mit…Mister Jordan,” she continued. “What you have developed will revolutionize the world.”
“Really now,” countered Jordan. He tried to shift in the cold steel chair he was shackled to by his other hand, but streams of pain caused him to wince sharply grimacing.
“So, so, you think…by offering me money…wealth beyond my wildest dreams…I’m going to pitch over and allow you pirates to swoop in and scoop up my life’s work?”
“Something like that,” answered Staci. She tapped the paper and slowly pushed it across the table. He stared at it, then she leaned towards him. “Sign, Mister Jordan.”
A glob of blood spattered across the papers. It became hard for her not to kick him straight into that dense resistant face of his; the leering marred smile grinding her teeth together.
Drawing in a sigh, Staci pulled the paper back, sighing with a shake of her head. Staci dabbed at the blood with a handkerchief. “That wasn’t very nice, Mister Jordan,” she said.
He grunted derisively.
“You know the only reason you are still alive, Mister Jordan, is because of that fantastic mind of yours.”
“My best feature,” he replied.
The papers were ruined, but a new set could be drawn up. Staci’s eyes slowly drew up to lock back down on him.
“Maybe, but I wouldn’t lean heavily on that,” Staci finished, crumpling up the document, “but I wouldn’t bank on that to keep you alive…Mister Jordan.”
Taking up her briefcase, she went back to the door, tapping it. At the threshold, Staci paused and gave Jordan one last look.
“Think hard about our offer, Mitch. It might not come around again.”
He laughed, breaking out into haggard fits and cough’s before sitting back up. “Come on, Miss Klein. You and your masters can’t do more than this. Would not be good for business now, would it?”
Staci shook her head. With a low grunt, she smirked and turned away.