Devoted: Merritt's Story - Chapter 11

Chapter 11 is here!  You can read it inline or download the attached PDF.  I was planning on only having two chapters this month, but 11 and 12 are pretty short, and I don't want a long gap between these two chapters, so I'll be posting chapter 12 next Thursday, June 29.  And as promised, Merritt's story will continue through the comic's hiatus in July.

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Chapter 11

As Mercury’s top advisor, Belmont had a public office along the North-Neutral border where he often met with high-ranking officials from other spheres. According to the board members’ public office hours listed on his phone, Merritt could expect Belmont to be available until five p.m. on the Friday after the board meeting. It seemed unlikely that anyone, much less someone who was already on Belmont’s bad side, would be able to land a scheduled meeting without first pulling some strings and placing some bribes. But Mercury had given him an order, and if the official channels were unavailable, Merritt would find another way. If his attempt ended in being ejected from the building by guards, then so be it. 

Even before Mercury’s stern words at the end of the meeting, Merritt knew he had to do something about his relationship with Belmont, and the feeling only got more urgent over the following days. In the middle of the week, both Higgins and Wilson subtly suggested via text message that Merritt find a way to humble himself in front of Belmont sooner rather than later. Higgins and Wilson were two of the people at the party who seemed to have taken the most pleasure in seeing Belmont humiliated. But now that they were both sober, they seemed to approach the situation with much less humor. Merritt couldn’t stall any longer.

He was surprised to find how lax the security was around Belmont’s building, but after making it through the lobby and the first unprotected set of double doors, he realized he was probably being monitored by surveillance cameras. The few guards standing at attention scanned his thumbprint and ushered him through with no comment about his visible firearms. As Merritt made his way down the winding corridor, he discreetly observed his surroundings. Despite the appearance of emptiness, he could feel the presence of humans just out of sight. Most likely, additional armed guards stood waiting in the concealed side corridors, blocked by faux wall panels that would be easy for them to break through in an emergency. Merritt wouldn’t have been surprised; military headquarters used a similar setup. 

Four guards flanked the elevators at the end of the hall. One of them, eyeing the double stripes near the wrists of Merritt’s fighting jacket that signified his position as a military captain, gave a respectful bow of the head. The blank-faced guard beside him said, “Credentials, sir.”

Merritt offered his thumbprint, which the guard met with a portable scanner. He waited for the green light, squinted at the scanner’s screen, and said, “You’re here to see Belmont?”

“Yes,” Merritt said, concealing his surprise as the guard motioned for him to board the elevator. The guard at the entrance who’d initially scanned his print hadn’t asked who he had come to see. All the guards wore headsets; Belmont must have spotted Merritt on his private security feed and signaled to the guards to allow him through.

As the elevator doors closed him in, he noted that there were no visible floor buttons inside. In their place was a locked panel with a thumbprint sensor, apparently only allowing those with high clearance to access the elevator controls. With a wry chuckle, Merritt realized that it would be up to the guards—and Belmont—to see to it that he didn’t get stranded overnight in the elevator or spontaneously dropped ten floors.

Hopefully, the meeting would be brief. His plan was simple: give Belmont a conciliatory gift and reiterate that he was devoted to serving all the higher-ups in his sphere. The likelihood of that being enough to get back in Belmont’s good graces was slim, but it would hopefully open the door to further conversation. Merritt refused to dwell on Belmont’s possible response in advance. He’d prepared for a few worst case scenarios, but he knew Belmont had a way of defying expectations. 

The hallway lights were overly bright, glaring against the white floor and walls and lending the hallway an unbearably sterile ambience. It looked more like a hospital corridor than an office building, as if the architecture were emphasizing to visitors that they were in North Sphere territory.

After a left turn, Belmont’s office awaited at the end of the hall, the door already a crack open. Merritt peered through the gap. Inside, he spotted Belmont slouched in his seat behind his desk, looking too big for his furniture. Being well over six feet tall, he always seemed to take up a lot of space despite his lean build. One long leg extended out past the side of the desk, clad in perfectly pressed dress pants. The toe of a dress shoe tapped rhythmically on the floor.

Belmont seemed unsurprised to see Merritt, confirming Merritt’s suspicion that he was being watched on his way to the room. Belmont leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowed, looking Merritt up and down. “Well, if it isn’t Captain Merritt,” he said, his lip curled with distaste. He gestured toward a parcel in Merritt’s arm. “What’s that?”

Merritt handed the box to Belmont. “I heard this is your favorite wine.”

Belmont opened the box, pulling out a bottle of South Sphere white wine from the sub-Deering region. He examined the label, and Merritt got the impression that he was looking for something to criticize. After a long pause, he placed the bottle on the table and turned back to Merritt. “You’re right. It is my favorite wine, and it’s nearly impossible to get if you don’t live in the South Sphere. I haven’t had a glass in four years. So now I have to wonder how you managed to get your hands on an entire bottle.”

Merritt shrugged. “It just happened to make its way to me.”

Belmont’s frown deepened at being kept in the dark, and Merritt cursed himself mentally. He’d come here to humble himself, yet he was doing the exact opposite.

The truth was that Kimball had contacted him to chat the week before. She’d settled happily into her prestigious new job in the South, and she wanted to thank Merritt for keeping her secret while she’d planned her escape from the North. As far as Merritt was concerned, he was only being a good friend and ally. Kimball had never intended to harm the North, so Merritt saw no reason to betray her trust. But she insisted on returning the favor.

Belmont’s fondness for Deering white was a random fact Merritt had remembered from a news interview over a year ago. Since Kimball’s office was a ten minute drive from Deering, Merritt took a shot and asked her if she’d be able to send him a bottle of Deering white. A few days later, a mailroom worker at military headquarters passed him a box with three bottles in it. Merritt had always been on good terms with Kimball, but apparently their relationship had been better than he’d realized. 

However, he was in no hurry to explain any of that to Belmont.

He stood patiently as Belmont scowled at the bottle on his desk. It appeared Belmont was torn; Merritt assumed he wanted to turn down the gift on account of who had given it, but he was too fond of the wine to want to part with it. After an excruciating stretch of silence, Belmont finally turned his gaze to Merritt. “Why are you really here? You know, I don’t normally take walk-ins from people of your rank.”

“I came to apologize. What happened out on the balcony at North Star—it was a misunderstanding. I don’t know a whole lot about elite culture. I had no idea what the balcony was for, and when you bit me, I thought it was an attack.”

“Bullshit. I told you what I wanted before we went onto the balcony.”

“You said you wanted to talk. I thought we—” Merritt immediately recognized that arguing with Belmont wasn’t the way to earn his favor. He cleared his throat and straightened his spine. “It was a mistake. All I want is to give you the wine and to ask your forgiveness. And to see… if you need anything.”

“If I need anything?”

Merritt swallowed. “As a soldier, it’s my job to serve my sphere. And you’re…” his voice came out forced, “…a prominent part of my sphere.”

Belmont raised an eyebrow. “So you’re offering to serve me.”

Merritt’s voice caught before he could reply. The note of interest in Belmont’s voice made him uneasy.

“Well?” Belmont asked. “Are you all talk, or are you willing to back it up with action?”

Unable to summon his voice, Merritt offered something between a nod and a shrug. Meanwhile, he asked himself why in the world he’d decided to take this route in the first place. He’d assumed Belmont might ask for some sort of favor or gesture to go along with the gift. What he hadn’t expected was his own sudden urge to resist compliance.

But he had orders from Mercury. He had no choice but to stifle the part of him that clung to resistance. 

Belmont’s intense eyes lingered on him, narrowing. “I’ve noticed the way you look at Mercury. You might as well be down on your knees kissing his feet all day. But I hope you realize it’s not just your King who you owe respect to. It’s all of the sphere’s elite.”

Merritt nodded. The best thing he could do was keep his mouth shut, focus on his poker face, and let Belmont say whatever he wanted to say.

“You know, there is something you can help me with,” Belmont said after a moment of contemplation. He gestured with his head toward the floor under his desk. “I wore a bad pair of shoes the other day, and they left a big, black scuff mark on the floor. Why don’t you make yourself useful and buff that out for me?”

Merritt pressed his lips together. After a brief pause, he said, “You want me to clean your floor?”

Belmont rolled back in his chair, as if giving Merritt room to work. “Not the whole floor. Just one little mark.” He pointed. “Right here.”

It should have been easy for Merritt to swallow his pride. He’d been doing it all his life, with all his superiors. But Belmont’s mocking tone and infuriating half-smile sparked a rush of indignation within him. Stifling the emotion before it could surface on his face, he slowly circled Belmont’s desk and examined the floor where Belmont would have normally rested his feet. “I don’t see anything.”

Belmont pointed again. “It’s right there.”

“It looks clean.”

“Maybe you should get down there and look closer.”

Merritt gritted his teeth. “Okay,” he said tersely.

Belmont handed Merritt his monogrammed handkerchief. Merritt took it and got down to his knees. As he crawled under the desk, he could feel the weight of Belmont’s eyes on him from behind, accompanied by a soft chuckle, and he realized that Belmont was enjoying the view.

Fist clenched around the handkerchief, Merritt forced himself to ignore Belmont’s gaze.

“Do you see it?” Belmont asked.

Merritt didn’t reply. A moment later, he jerked at the feeling of a foot between his shoulder blades. Belmont pushed down, driving Merritt’s face closer to the floor. “See it now?”

Merritt glared down at the floor. “Yes,” he lied through clenched teeth.

“Good. Now give it a few nice, firm rubs.”

Face hidden from Belmont’s view, Merritt allowed his scowl to surface. He scrubbed the already spotless floor a few times. “I think it’s clean now.”

“Give it another round,” Belmont said. “Just to be sure.”

Merritt did as he was told. “All right. That’s it. It’s clean.”

The weight of Belmont’s foot lifted off his back. He heard the sole of a dress shoe click on the hard floor, followed by casters rolling. “Good,” Belmont said. “Glad you were able to get that for me.”

Merritt turned to crawl back out from under the desk and realized with horror that, rather than rolling further away as he’d thought, Belmont had rolled forward, closing Merritt in under the desk. Merritt was on his hands and knees, his head between Belmont’s thighs and at eye level with his crotch. Belmont’s long, gangly legs effectively blocked his exit.

Out of reflex, he tried to spring up and smacked his head on the underside of the desk.

“Careful down there,” Belmont called, his voice so soft and sinister it sent a chill down Merritt’s spine.

This was exactly what Belmont wanted. He’d managed to put Merritt back in the same precarious spot he’d been in at the quarterly review party, and he now stared down at Merritt with a smirk, challenging Merritt to defy him again.

Merritt didn’t have to stay under the desk. Belmont’s long legs offered the perfect leverage against the narrow-set casters of his office chair. It would be easy to grab one of his legs and topple him backward, chair and all. But doing so would prove to Belmont that Merritt’s apology wasn’t as sincere as he’d claimed, and that he wasn’t truly ready to make nice.

Merritt met eyes with Belmont. Belmont made no move. He simply sat, wearing a subtle smile as he watched the internal conflict play out on Merritt’s face.

I could topple your chair. I could jump you and pin you and elbow you in the face until you’re blinded by your own blood.

Belmont reached out, running his fingers through the hair at Merritt’s temple. The fingers slid lightly along the side of his scalp, tracing around to the back of his head. Merritt shivered, then scowled. He wasn’t sure if he was angrier at the touch itself or at the traitorous way it made his blood rush.

Try anything, and this time I’ll snap both your arms.

But what difference did it make? This was why he’d come to Belmont’s office, wasn’t it? To make nice?

Belmont slowly stroked the hair on the back of Merritt’s head.

Merritt squeezed his eyes shut, taking in a heavy, steadying breath. A rush of conflicted thoughts flooded his mind, so overpowering they shut it down. He couldn’t think, couldn’t process what was happening.

Belmont’s fingertips grazed the nape of his neck.

Setting a hand on Belmont’s knee, Merritt leaned forward.

He barely shifted two inches before Belmont’s hand tightened on his hair, pinning him in place. With eyes narrowed and that same smirk still on his face, Belmont gave a cocky tilt of the head. “What are you doing?” he asked in a mock gentle tone.

Merritt’s huffed breaths choked out any words he could have summoned. He stared up at Belmont in stunned confusion.

“I didn’t ask you for that. Did I?”

Merritt felt the burn of crimson blooming on his cheeks. No. You didn’t.

Belmont released his hair. Setting a dress shoe against the leg of his desk, he kicked off and propelled himself backward on his chair’s casters, clearing the way for Merritt to crawl out. 

Merritt should have made a mad dash for freedom, but instead, he lingered under the desk for several seconds, drowning in his own muddled thoughts. He didn’t want to come out; the shadow cast under the desk was the only remaining cover for his shame.

“I’ve never seen a guy look so comfortable on his hands and knees,” Belmont said. “Do you still expect me to believe you earned your promotions through talent alone?”

Merritt gave no reply. It took all his will just to crawl out from under the desk.

Belmont watched him as he rose to his feet. “I’m seeing everyone give you promotions left and right, handing you more and more power and asking you to be a leader. But I don’t think you know how to do anything other than follow orders. I don’t think you even want to do more than that.”

Merritt smoothed out the wrinkles in his pants and fighting jacket without looking at Belmont.

“Well, then,” Belmont said. “I think that’s all I’ll be needing for now, Merritt. But I appreciate the visit.” He grabbed the bottle of Deering white off his desk and ran his hand suggestively down its neck. “And thank you for the wine.”

“I hope you enjoy it,” Merritt said coldly.

“I’m sure I will.”

“Then have a nice evening.”

Merritt turned and headed for the door. As he stepped across the threshold, Belmont called after him, “Come back any time, Captain. If you ever forget where your place is in the North Sphere, I’ll be happy to remind you.”

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