[ WP ] Pain is discovered to be the most efficient form of energy . It is ruled illegal , but secret human pain factories have already begun . You are the owner of one of these factories .

He picked up the phone before it could ring. 
 
 ``...'' 
 
 A voice squeaked through the receiver: `` Hi! I mean, hello, I mean, uh... Mister, uh... Mister Sullivan, sir?'' 
 
 He waited. 
 
 `` I'm very, very sorry to bother you, but uh... it's, y'know, it's him again, and you said that, if it happened again, we were - uh - supposed to, y'know, call you, and --'' 
 
 `` I'll be there.'' 
 
 `` R-really? I mean, you do n't --'' 
 
 Mister Sullivan killed the connection and slid the little phone back into the left inside pocket of his suit without a sound. Standing up silently from his chair, he smoothed out his jacket, then clicked a small button hidden in his right sleeve just by his wrist. 
 
 `` Ignore everyone who asks for me. I wo n't be long.'' His voice poured like concrete, fluid, dense, and gray. 
 
 He stepped swiftly around his great obsidian desk and stepped towards the door. It slid open soundlessly, gaping open to a round outer office shrouded in darkness. The only sources of light came from various buttons scattered around, piercing the room and dying in endless automated cycles. He scanned the room purely out of rote while walking, finding no one. At the far end was a short corridor, where an elevator's open doors waited; like his office and waiting room, it was black as tar. He paced in, leaving the barren floor; the doors shut and moved without any further input from Mister Sullivan. He heard them long before the doors opened. 
 
 `` He's coming? You're sure he's coming? What do you mean, you're sure he's coming?'' 
 
 *Ten floors. * 
 
 `` What do we do? What the hell do we do? Where's the damn manual, go get it, you idiot!'' 
 
 *Five left. * 
 
 `` Oh fuck, he's almost here. Use your damn ears, there's no light anywhere here, you should know this by now. Just - just shut up!'' 
 
 They stood in a loose semi-circle around the elevator doors, each of them wearing a set of nondescript goggles on their eyes. Mister Sullivan felt the vibrations in the air from their trembling. He ignored it. One of them slithered right to his side as he stepped out. 
 
 `` Where is he?'' 
 
 `` We can take you to him, of course. Move, assholes! Find something to do!'' 
 
 Mister Sullivan walked past the rooted lab-coats, weaving through them like smoke. The scientist kept pace, reading from a clip-board all the while. 
 
 `` Every single pain index, sir; none of them report any activity. We've exhausted most of the cultural tortures so far - I was so sure the bamboo would do the trick this time - but nothing seems to be...'' 
 
 He muttered on as Mister Sullivan parted the waves of his employees without physical effort. Some betrayed their innermost emotions, backing themselves into the walls on Mister Sullivan's far sides. The scent of their adrenalin was eventually muted, like it always did. 
 
 `` Oh, Sullivan, it's right there.'' 
 
 Sullivan stopped, but the scientist walked a few paces past before turning around, his goggles aimed at Sullivan's face. Sullivan looked down into the black glass surface. What little people were left in this corridor inexplicably found that they needed to find the nearest bathroom, or file some paperwork, or otherwise call their parents. 
 
 `` Randall. I thought we discussed this the last time I came down here. Do you remember how long ago that was?'' 
 
 Sullivan heard Randall blink behind the goggles twice before answering. 
 
 `` Yes - yes we did. I do n't remember, that's how long ago it was.'' 
 
 Sullivan closed the distance between them with two easy strides. Looking down, he saw the slimy scientist's every pore and wrinkle. 
 
 `` Randall; I know that if there were one person left in this company who was n't afraid of me, it would be you. That's why I value your employ. Out of concern as your boss, I ask that you take care of yourself; you do n't look too well. As an irreplaceable cog in this nightmare machine, I ask that you do just that: take care of yourself.'' 
 
 Randall felt a lump in his throat. He had to gulp it down - in any other context, it may have been comical, but in this, it was not. 
 
 `` Now; where is he?'' 
 
 Randall pointed to the door on the right, rendered silent. Sullivan patted him on the shoulder, nearly felling Randall from the weight. 
 
 `` Thank you. When I'm in there, you are to monitor any and all communications coming from this room. Nothing will leave there; do you understand?'' 
 
 Sullivan strode in without hearing Randall's reply. 
 
 -- -- -- -- -- -- 
 
 The only sign that the heavy steel door closed was the disturbance in the air. Like the rest of the facility, this room was pitch black. To the only other person there, the room seemed even darker. 
 
 Sullivan stood and watched the humanoid strapped onto the stretcher in the center of the room. He saw him breathing intermittently, as if it was no longer an automatic process. Sullivan's nose was assaulted by the cacophony of smells, a foul mixture of waste, iron, medicine, and pain; but he paid no heed to it. A few moments passed before he spoke. 
 
 `` Can you still speak?'' 
 
 The captive coughed and sputtered momentarily. `` In a manner of speaking'', he croaked. 
 
 Sullivan fought to keep from chuckling. `` Still joking around, I see.'' 
 
 `` Well, what else can a guy do around here? Let me tell you, Sulley, your guys are not fun to be around.'' 
 
 He stepped closer to the makeshift bed. It was hospital white and clean, though his prisoner was a foreign green, and plainly not. 
 
 Strapped in, he let out a low, rapid breath; Sullivan took it for a chuckle. `` Oh, right, it's Mister Sullivan now, right? Where'd you get that from, Waternoose?'' 
 
 `` He died way before that, subject.'' 
 
 The figure on the bed opened his one eye. Sullivan saw that this more habit than anything - the iris of the eye was whiter than the bed. 
 
 `` You forgot my name too, Sulley?'' 
 
 Sulley growled deep in his throat. `` Mike, do n't make this any harder than it has to be.'' 
 
 Mike closed his eye. `` There we go, that's all I needed Sulley. At least you have n't forgotten anything.'' He fell into a coughing fit. 
 
 `` I did n't forget anything, Mike. Nothing is all I have.'' 
 
 Mike recovered. Eye still closed, Mike said, `` I did n't take you for the poetic type, Sulley.'' 
 
 Sulley struggled not to slam the steel bed, instead crushing the sides with his great hands. The sound of metal crunching under pressure resounded and bounced in the chamber. 
 
 `` Do n't screw with me, Mike. You know why I'm here. You're worth less than nothing to me and this company now.'' 
 
 A heartier laugh followed the echoes of iron. 
 
 `` I do n't care, Sulley. Kill me, if it'll let you sleep better. Do you still hear her? What was it she called you?'' 
 
 `` Do n't fucking say it Mike.''. Even to Sulley, it sounded more pleading than commanding. 
 
 `` Pussy? No, that's my name for you,'' another death-rattle chuckle, `` no, no, I think it was... kitty?'' 
 
 Sulley unleashed a primal roar, shaking the walls, floor, and bed. His hands flashed, and ripped Mike from the metal and leather contraption, squeezing his body between his claws. Heat poured from Sulley's body like a miniature sun, as if in response to the building pressure behind his eyes and chest. Sulley's lips bared his great white teeth, wound tight as a vice. 
 
 `` Ah, Sulley. What happened to you, gently kitty?'' 
 
 `` Do n't call me that again!'' 
 
 `` You do n't have to do this, you know.'' 
 
 `` I have to, you killed her, you started this!'' 
 
 `` I did n't do it Sulley, I know you know.'' 
 
 `` You, were the one who said she had to go back. YOU kept me from her.'' 
 
 `` What would that have changed, Sulley?'' 
 
 `` I SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE.'' 
 
 `` Ah... oh Sulley.'' 
 
 For a moment, there was only Sulley's haggard breathing. Mike broke the silence. 
 
 `` If it helps any, I want to pat your arm with mine; but, y'know. The whole torture thing.'' 
 
 ``...'' 
 
 `` Sulley... I miss her too.'' 
 
 Sulley dropped Mike to the floor. He silently smoothed out his jacket, clicking a small button hidden in his right sleeve just by his wrist. 
 
 `` Mike Wazowski is terminated. I will be back in ten.'' His voice poured like concrete, fluid, dense, and gray. 
 
 The giant Mister Sullivan knelt down on one knee besides Mike's crumpled form. He cradles Mike's head with his left palm. He felt a wetness drop from above, landing on his hand. 
 
 `` I'm sorry, Mike.'' 
 
 `` I'm sorry too, Sulley.''
