His Special Ones by Orin Drake
It's... something, alright.

        Chapter 6


        "Stay back a little farther."  He suggested, trying to ignore the severe throbbing in his leg.  There was plenty of first aid in the back... but that would mean stopping the car to look for it.  He had a general idea of where he kept everything... but that wasn't enough to keep up with the speeding Bronco.  "And why are you so good at following a car going well above the speed limit?"
        "Video games."  She lied perfectly.  "Lots of late nights at the arcade."
        Too convincing for his taste.  "How many cars can you hotwire?"
        "Just about every kind you can imagine."  She didn't bother to cover up.
        "That would be helpful."  He let his mind wander, just a little.  Anything useful in a "just in case" situation was still useful.
        She found the gas pedal to be quite sensative, to her delight, darting in and out of a little patch of traffic.  "Are you going to be able to walk with that?"
        "I can stumble."
        "That's... probably not as helpful as it sounds."  She gave the rear view mirror a quick glance to make sure no police cars were near, gunning the engine just a little to keep up.
        He found her almost professional manner somewhat entertaining.  "Heh.  I'll have a nicely sized arsenal with me, I'll be just fine.  But you should stay further back."
        "Don't want to lose him."  She dismissed without eye contact.
        "Don't want to get shot, either."  He countered.  One wound, in the leg... not so bad.  Not the most pleasant situation, but not as bad as it would be if they were both hurt.
        Well... fine, then.  She quietly took his advice, keeping her eyes on the Bronco at all times.  It would be harder, the closer they got to the city.  And, by the traffic, they were certainly nearing it.  At first there were just speckles of cars.  Then little pockets of them, travelling together like packs.
        "Now you can pull closer."  He suggested, cars getting thicker around them.  "Try to hide behind an SUV or something."
        "Never thought soccer moms would actually be useful for something."  She quipped, following orders.
        Rex took a good look around them, industrial buildings beginning to come into view.  Catching the road sign, he nodded to himself.  "We're still on the highway outside of the main drag.  This'll just take us around the outskirts if we stay here."
        She wanted to agree with his hope, but she stopped herself.  Not that she was much of a believer in those sorts of things, but... she'd do all she could to avoid jinxing herself.  They continued several more miles, darting behind larger cars when they could, doing everything in their power to follow the garash yellow beast.
        And then... it turned off.  Darting across two lanes of traffic to do so, no less.  There was only a split second of decision--and Ally reacted to the best of her ability.  Giving a quick glance behind, she sped up and turned sharply; for a moment there, she thought the unexpected weight of the car and momentum was going to flip them.  Some kind of luck must have been on their side, or maybe it was the turning of the wheel at just the right moment... no matter.  She hadn't quite made the exit, but the exit lane was only a few yards of dirt away.  It was a bumpy ride, but she got there.
        "Video games?" Rex challenged, as much amazed as he was scared shitless.
        Hell, she'd surprised herself.  But she had no plans to admit such a feat.  "And an obsession with the Dukes of Hazzard."
        Maybe that little detail could have been left unsaid.  The deep chuckle actually seemed to aggravate his gunshot wound.


 

        She followed at as much of a distance as she could afford herself.  Just a hair behind losing him at every turn, she would have made any detective envious.  There were many times when she let her mind wander, just a little, pondering whether or not shooting out the tires would be a good idea... but then, there was no better way to make tailing Nick more obvious.  Probably not a good idea.  Add to that, if they did stop him... they'd never find out where he was headed.  Then there was the little matter of how he might retaliate.  Not pretty pictures involved in that thought.  It caused a shiver to crawl down her spine, a mild burst of speed gained in turn.
        "He's turning off again."  Rex confirmed quietly, taking a look at the general landscape from where they held back.  An industrial area.  Kind of a torn-up, ignored road.  Turning onto it, he began to realize that the shocks on the car weren't quite as nice as he'd have liked them to be...
        "Ever been here before?" she questioned, trying not to snap an axel over the increasingly large potholes.  Keeping a steady gaze on the Bronco was starting to make her seasick.
        "No."  He admitted, attempting to get his bearings.  He couldn't see any of the telltale buildings of the city, so they weren't that close... but, they couldn't be that far, either.
        Finally the yellow monster turned into a smaller dirt road.  Hands twitching on the wheel, Ally followed slowly.  No reason to get close yet... but by the time she'd turned onto the road herself, the Bronco was already parked and pretty clearly empty.
        Rex swallowed.  He couldn't have gotten far... chances were, Nick had ventured into the closest building--a warehouse?  What the hell would he or anyone related to the Good Doctor want with a warehouse?  And a grimy one at that.  A freaking dirty ghetto warehouse that looked abandoned for years...  Perfectly abandoned.  Movie-like.  And therefore... "Fake."  He confimed, suspicion like a scent coming off of him.
        A deep, nervous breath.  Time paused... though not for long enough.  She looked over at the guy she'd really just met, trying to come up with something intelligent to say.  Nothing seemed to come to mind.
        He grinned a little at her searching silence.  "Well... I guess we should get out and take a look."
        That wasn't quite what she'd been hoping for, honestly.  Not that she would actually disagree with the idea... except for the fact that she was only the least bit nervous about the entire situation.  But... what the hell.  "Got a baseball bat or something?"
        "I think you can handle a little more than that."  He gave her a slightly michevious smile a beat before indicating the area between the seats.
        Well, that was interesting as usual.  She held eye contact for a quick moment, looking for anything terribly out of place, then followed his gaze... ah.  The "tool box" had its own distinct resting place in a makeshift cavern between the seats and underneath a wealth of technological-looking "stuff".  She looked back at him for a moment before grasping hold.
        "Don't be nervous."  He offered.  "Can't hurt ya.  Unless you load it, point it at yourself and shoot."
        There was a long pause before she actually decided to unlatch the lid.  "When you put it like that, I only get more curious."
        Perhaps, between them, they were just one big disaster waiting to happen.  Then again, seeing her grasp for the larger gun with an almost hidden look of extreme satisfaction, he was pretty damn sure that there was no "perhaps" about it.  "That might have a little too much kick for you."
        "More my style, though."  She so much as dared to twirl it around her finger--not quite expecting the weight and momentum, winding up with the barrel pointing at her head.  Taking that as a sign, she wordlessly handed it over.
        How the girl was still alive somewhat eluded him.  Not that he wasn't glad.  "Try the one on your right.  Not too powerful, but enough to drop someone."
        She slid her hand around the grip.  It was surprisingly heavy for its size, but comfortable.  Easy to see exactly how a person could get a little too easy with holding one.  A deep breath... and she was as ready as she was ever going to be.
        He opened his door, making a move to get out of the car--then winced too hard to deny.  Dammit.  He was going to have to dig the little metal bastard out of his leg himself if they couldn't be quick about this...
        "Are you sure you should be getting out of the car?" she prodded lightly, trying her damnest to seem utterly unphased.
        He looked down at his still-throbbing leg, taking the blood-soaked cloth into account.  "What would you suggest?"
        While she wasn't entirely thrilled to throw herself out into the open...  "I can take a look."
        He made certain, firstly, that she was serious.  That much confirmed, he nodded, his own gun safe in his grasp.  "Be quick, and be careful."
        She swallowed, giving the new weight in her hands another questioning look.  Not bad...  It felt good, but... dangerous.  Not just to everyone else, either.  Well, she could handle it.  She'd have to.  A nod, and she was off.
        As the door closed, he watched from the car.  She was almost a goddamn natural--gun snugly in both hands as she advanced slowly, carefully, eyes up at all times and constantly looking.  Approaching the building, she chanced a look back; it was quick enough, but she saw Rex's returned gaze.  Okay, well... okay.  All attention on the building.
        Not that it did much good, frankly.  Yes, at first she was a ball of nerves and adrenaline.  Then she took a look at the windows... that appeared more than merely blacked out.  They seemed to have a texture of black plastic to them--not really windows at all.  Didn't appear to be one-way glass, either... odd.  With one more glance at the car to be sure nothing had gone wrong, she carefully moved around the corner of the building and continued.
        Well, she didn't seem to need his help all that much.  And, with a bleeding leg and a sudden desire to get to a safer place to take a leak, he was glad for it.  One eye on the windshield and the other on his leg, he carefully unwrapped the tight cloth for only long enough to inspect the wound.  Yes, it was a stupid move--but he was curious.  So long as it looked clean, maybe he could hold off on the idea of getting to a doctor.  Hated those money-grubbing bastards... but beyond that, he didn't want to find some shitty hospital on the outside of town where they'd make a much longer sweep of his I.D. than they really had any business to.  Go to some busy HMO and you don't get anything but a quick look and a bill; not so with one of the operations around the area...
        The sound of the car door opening very nearly sent him through the armored roof.  He expressed as much with a gasp, not exactly feeling his heart slow down when he saw Ally flop into the seat and close the door.
        Being pretty good at pretending that obvious things weren't actually in existence, she let his reaction pass by her intense sarcasm.  "One door.  And it's locked."
        That seemed... very odd.  "Is that the only way in?"
        She nodded, glancing around before speaking.  Damn her paranoia, but she felt watched.  Never could be too careful with who might be behind you.  She'd seen enough movies to know.  "That's it.  No other doors, no real windows.  And no locks to pick, either."  The door itself had been around the other side of the building, and she nearly had a heart attack with the mere thought that it may open upon another of the Good Doctor's happy fun experimental playgrounds--having ultimately lucked out with noting the metal garage-style door not only to be locked, but looking as though there was no unlocking mechanism available from outside.
        His eyes narrowed on the building, annoyed fingers tapping out a grating pattern.  Well... they needed to get in there.
        Ally gazed over with a cynical expression.  "And why can't we just blast the fucker with missiles and machine guns?"
        "Here?  This might not be a real warehouse, but it is a real ghetto.  Probably not the best way to go."
        She sighed, crossing her arms, gun still in hand, for a moment.  Indeed, they needed in there.  And knocking probably wouldn't prove to be entirely productive.  Therefore...  She locked the door, started the engine, and carefully grasped her seatbelt.  "I would suggest buckling up for this one."
        Were she anyone else, the thought never would have crossed his mind.  But...  "You're not."
        She didn't answer.
        "You're not."  He tried again, louder.  It was no longer an inquiry.
        "Sorry."  She growled--right before pressing the pedal to the floor and letting the gearshift rip wide open.
        Yes, he could have screamed his head off, cursed her a blue streak that even his drunk racist uncle would have blushed about... but the smarter choice seemed to be buckling his safety belt and holding on to the seat with both hands.  Damn their horrifying curiosity.
        Neither the car nor the building ever saw it coming.  She tore around the side and to the hopefully standard-grade sliding door--not bothering to brake.  Instead, she drove out as far as the lot allowed, spun in the dirt, and let the engine build to deafening proportions before--
        In training, Rex had once kind of "fallen" out of a helicopter, landing on his back in a river.  If he were to take a moment to magnify that feeling by about thirty times, he'd be able to describe what the impact with the door was like.  It was mostly shock, though.  That absorbed some of the more frightening feelings.
        The fact remained, as Ally all too calmly put the car in park, that they were inside.  One stunned look around pretty much assured them that they'd landed in no ordinary warehouse, alright--though exactly what it was still eluded them.  There was a set of stairs leading up... but, strangely enough, there was another set leading down.  The inside itself seemed more like an office building composed of old desks, chairs, and a very dimly lit feeling of absolutely mundane bore.  At least it looked to be abandoned.
        Not that Rex appeared to entirely care, as his driver noticed instantly.  No, he was not... pleased at all.  She hadn't seen that particular look in a while.  "It's a good car."  She tried to calm him.
        "It was a good car."  Calm was not a thing he felt he would ever see again.
        Good point.  "Well, it's in car heaven now.  There's no pain, there."
        Instead of screaming, he mumbled quietly, giving the dashboard a little loving pat before reaching over and trying to turn the key... and shocking the hell out of both of them when the beast started without incident.  "Boy are you lucky.  She survived."
        Hmph.  "I think we're a little more lucky to have survived ourselves, but... I'm glad."
        "You don't mean that."  He accused softly.
        Phew.  At least he was a step above most people she'd had to deal with...  Miracles and soforth.  Though, there was one more thought in the way...  "Now what?"
        He sighed, trying to prepare himself mentally for stairs.  They were going to really, fucking, hurt... but he wasn't about to let her go alone.  "Up or down?"
        Granted the building was quite large from the outside, with a few stories above them... but she just couldn't imagine anyone going up the stairs for any reason.  Maybe it was just her, but...  "Down."
        Nodding, he opened his door--with a little bit of jiggling and a slight punch to the side.  "That'd be my guess, too."
        Well, if they were idiots... they were idiots together.  Tucking the gun and keys quickly into her pocket, she rushed from the car to give him a hand.  Hey, it was the least she could do.  "Are you going to be able to handle this?"
        "Eh, can't be that bad."  He lied so completely that he could almost feel his teeth rot.
        It was one of those moments, however, in which she refused to call him on.  Securing the gun once again in her grasp, she decided it may be best for her to lead the way.  For the moment.  Until they ran into trouble.
        Oh yeah, he regretted the decision with the first few steps on the flat floor, nevermind the actual stairs.  The first step down was just about the worst thing he'd felt in a damn long time--not counting several zipper incidents in his youth.  Or that time when it burned after... but nevermind.  He controlled his breathing with each motion (having seen it done many times in the movies; and hey, if it worked for actors...), taking his time but doing his best to keep up.
        "I had a thought."  She announced at the bottom of the first flight as it paused to turn the other direction and into a second.
        And I bet it's fucking brilliant.  He kept closely to himself.  "Yes?"
        She almost grinned as she was speaking it, obviously trying to control herself.  "What if there's an elevator?"
        He... paused.  Very nearly painful in its own right.  "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."
        Both puzzling and amusing.  "Really?"
        With a deep breath, he shook his head and started down the next flight of stairs.  "While that would be nice..." he admitted carefully, "There are too many other worries.  We might miss something between floors, wind up using an elevator that never gets used and simply handing ourselves over, or generally just find ourselves in the wrong place at the wrong time."
        "Not to mention the possibility of plummeting several floors to our deaths.  Or be trapped, half-dead at the bottom, one of us being forced to kill and eat the other."  She added, following behind slowly.
        "Avid movie enthusiast, are you?" he grunted, trying to go on.
        "You bet."  She confirmed, almost wishing she weren't.  Then at least she wouldn't feel so damn paranoid.  Truth had turned out not only to be stranger than fiction, but stranger than science fiction, and twice as scary.
        In reality, there hadn't been all that much to worry about--the first door they came to was weilded shut, and there was only one more floor below them.  It was interestingly at that point that the worry came on; only one way left to go.
        Leave it to Ally to reach out and turn the knob before she had a chance to talk herself out of it.  On the other side was something... totally unexpected.  It was a basement.  A basement-basement.  A place of pipes and old equipment, one dull naked lightbulb... but there was what looked to be a long, dark hallway on the other side.
        "It just doesn't end."  Rex's less than natural optimism seemed to be slipping.
        Not that she blamed him.  "Why do I get the feeling--"
        "Stop."  He called her off instantly.  They really didn't need that line of thought, even if it was a joke.  "Whatever's there, can you handle it?"
        She got the gist of what he was really asking.  But... her hands were sweating around the pistol as possibilities rushed into the forefront of her mind.  "I don't know what to do."  She meekly admitted.
        He grunted quietly, understanding.  "Is there any realistic possibility of getting him back?  And to stay that way?"
        "I don't know."  She whispered, wiping each hand off on her jeans to make sure there was absolutely no sweat between skin and gun.  "The doctor's still alive, obviously... and his assistant, the little prick..."
        "But is getting either of them to help you even a remote possibility?"
        She sighed, annoyed that he was indeed perfectly logical.  "The possibility always exists.  But it's slight."
        "Are you saying there is actually a chance in hell?" he dared her to reflect on her answer.
        Swallowing, she slowly rubbed the trigger with a hair's weight, running over its cool, smooth surface as if it were a worry stone.  "Yeah.  There's a chance.  But no matter how it turns out, Doc and his band of loonies have to be exterminated."
        He wouldn't argue with that.  "You'll have to lead."
        She nodded, needing no further encouragement.  The hall was dark, and damn right everything was creepy as hell... but that gun was almost a security blanket.  She could believe.  She would try.  This was all for Nick, dammit... and maybe a little revenge.
        There was a strange surprise at the end of the hallway--a not so hidden, "hidden" door.  The problem, it appeared, was that whoever had used it before had left a portion of it ajar, allowing just enough of a crack to see through.  It was too much to refuse of course--and she pulled back immediately, having found instant paydirt.  Certain it had been too dark to judge her reaction, she stepped back and whispered, very close,  "It's Taylor."
        Well, that was nice, but...  "Who?"
        Ah, yes.  Right.  Not knowing names and all.  "The Good Doctor's good assistant."
        He could almost feel her coiled energy, her desire to destroy the man...  "Well, go get him."
        "Gladly."  Yes, it was foolish.  It was completely stupid, let alone destructive on a number of levels... but she just couldn't help herself.  It took one solid, cocky kick to slam the door open--gun pointed.  She was ready.  He was clearly not.  "Well, if it isn't little Robbie."
        His back had been turned until he heard the commotion--and now that he was faced with a gun and a completely insane former patient... the beaker in his hand shattered to the floor.  He could recall neither her number nor her name, but he sure as hell remembered the broken fingers.  His mouth moved like a fish, grasping for words, thoughts, instincts.
        There was absolutely no mercy, and no patience.  It wouldn't even have mattered had Rex not been there to have her back; she was gone.  "How do I fix him?" she demanded.
        Taylor was terrified... but not enough.  His mouth remained shut.
        Until she took aim and shot the son of a bitch's left foot off without a second thought, sending him to the ground on top of the glass.  Oh yes, that got his mouth wide open, alright.
        Rex flinched with the sudden action.  Even all the shit he'd seen in specialized training hadn't really prepared him for that reaction.
        "Tell me!" she demanded vicously.
        The doc's assistant was too busy screaming.  So, she took the next logical step--stepping up to slam him hard across the face with a fist full of pistol.
        After a moment of stunned silence, the pain drenched him once again, and he squirmed like hell.  Her question came back to him, at did the fear of what else she was capable of doing.  "It c-can't be done!" he choked out, making a terribly sad attempt at turning over to crawl away.
        "Not good enough."  She responded calmly.  Taylor's other foot exploded in a rain of blood.  It became instantly clear as he clutched at the nonexistant appendage that he was going to go into shock... but all in all, she really didn't care.  It was too late--the adrenaline was just too high to think through.  She hadn't the least bit of intension to let him live, anyway.
        He realized that in dull, and very real, terror.  "It's a word trigger!" he gasped.
        She placed the searing hot barrel against his forehead.  "You have two seconds to give me that word."
        It was utter surrender.  "Quiesco!"
        That was... unfamiliar.  Was it... what... Latin?  "Don't fuck with me here."
        "It's Quiesco!" his voice cracked, the general flailing starting to lag just a touch.
        Well, she supposed it was worth a try.  "Now.  Where's your little doctor friend?"
        Apparently there was one thing he was more afraid of than a painful death--and that was the Good Doctor.  Yeah.  No surprise.  "I...I c-can't..."
        "You have got very few seconds before I shoot your balls off, one by one."  She lowered her aim appropriately.
        He squealed in horror--but ultimately would say no more.  No doubt he'd been conditioned... if not by what he'd seen, then certainly by whatever the doc had done to him personally.
        "Make your peace with god."  She invited.  Waiting just long enough for the eye contact to grow a little distant, she switched her aim and fired.
        Ugh.  Rex cringed and backed away.  Point-blank to the head was extremely messy.  He wished he'd been warned.  "You've got some bloodlust in you."
        She sighed, taking a look at her once spotless, once new clothes.  Standing, she did what she could to "clean off", but it was hardly worth the effort.  Sure what had just happened had really been disturbing... but she was neither sorry nor willing to dwell on it.  "Foster homes'll do that to a person."
        Well... he supposed so.  "I am going to keep that one in mind.  But... if I can ask, why exactly do you seem to hate him so much?"
        There wasn't really any way to describe things that wouldn't turn out disturbingly graphic... so she went for the gist of it.  "He was every foster home disaster I've ever had rolled into one.  That enough of an idea for you?"
        It took very little imagination.  Taylor was no spring chicken, and Ally was young, attractive... "That will do."
        She nodded, for the first time pausing to take a look around the room.  It appeared to be a very fancy storage facility mixed with some mad sceintist lab.  No shock there.  Unfortunately, there were two doors leading off from the room.  Where either one lead...  Well.  They may not have a lot of time to catch Nick.  Damn.  She should have kept that little bastard alive just a bit longer.  Now what?
        "Split up."  He responded to her unspoken question.  He dug in his back pocket, producing several bullets and handing them to her.  "If either of us get into trouble, we'll hear the shots."
        Her stomach appeared to have dropped onto the floor and proceeded to crawl away.  Yeah, they'd hear the shots, but would there be time?  Maybe it was just one of those things to ignore.  The guy seemed more than aware of the possible consequences.  "Can you manage?"
        "I'll be fine."  He dismissed, just glad there'd be no more stairs for a while... if there was a god.  "And, considering you seem to have no issue with pulling a trigger..."
        Hey, she wasn't going to argue.  "Okay.  Be careful."
        That was truly laughable coming from her.  "Will do."
        Seeing as how she was the one that could get around the fastest, she chose the door.  Darting to the right, she was off. 


 

        Stairs.  Not that she minded--she was actually kind of glad that perhaps she'd been the one to choose stairs and maybe Rex had gotten away with not having to climb them.  Though she doubted that.  Ah well.
        She'd seemed to chose the more boring route, actually.  Just small, dimly lit concrete rooms connected to one another in threes before leading into a short hallway and starting all over again.  Creepy, but not very interesting.  It smelled of wetness, mould, and several horrible sheds and back rooms.  It was cold, it was getting annoying to hear her every footstep echoed, and she seriously began to wonder if she would hear a gunshot...
        --Wait.  That'd been a sound.  A definite sound, and one she hadn't made.  She spun around to take a look... finding nothing.  Eyes narrowing, she looked back to where she was going... and slowly continued.
        There really was no chance.  The darkness mixed with the absolute surprise of the situation would have been plenty to render her too shocked to move once she'd been jumped--but the impact of the jump had knocked the air out of her, very nearly pushing her over the edge of consciousness.  When her vision blinked back into being, she wished it hadn't.
        No mistaking those teeth... and those eyes held insanity the likes of which she never imagined possible.  Too close, held down by his weight and aware only of the fear racing through her, the gun long since having skittered across the floor due to having nearly passed out.  She coughed, gasping, trying to get enough breath to speak but feeling only pain clamp her chest.
        The monster in Nick's body bore down on her with its horrible grin.  There was something in his hand--
        Fear seemed like a pebble compared to the boulder of emotion racing through her.  A knife.  An insane man with a knife.  She coughed, searching for thoughts, for words...  "Nick, stop."  She pleaded quietly.  "Nick... it's Ally.  Ally, remember?  You rescued me.  And gave me money for clothes."
        There was no response.  She may as well have announced that her mother was an Indonesian ox for all the attention paid.  He seemed far more interested in the shining blade, turning it slowly and gazing at the surface.
        Raw animal panic threatened to destroy her ability to think.  "Waffles!"  It seemed the only word that would save her--ultimately giving her a memory and a purpose to hold onto.  "Remember the waffles?  Quiesco, Nick! Quiesco!  Come on!"
        The word itself seemed to be a mistake.  Instead of ignoring her, the eyes bore into her as if noticing her for the first time.  The motions felt almost playful, but the undertones were... so far from it.  The blade pressed against her throat only heavily enough for her to unquestionably experience the razor edge.
        Well, that was a new sensation, alright.  Nearly in a surprising way considering all the shit she'd pulled.  This was not a way she wanted to die...  The blade was so tight against the flesh that swallowing would have split it open, not to even think of mentioning the supposed word trigger again...  She closed her eyes to try and gain some sense of calm, of clarity--and, just like that, the blade lifted.  A strange thing... since her eyes had closed, she'd found no desire to open them.  And that hadn't changed with the lifting of the blade.  Not even when she felt shifting above, heard small sounds, felt an odd heat source against her clothes...
        "Ally."  The voice was... grinding... but... it was... so strangely human...  She finally opened her eyes and saw why with an incredibly gut-churning shock--he'd used the knife on his own throat.  Not to slit it, but to cut out the device that was making his voice sound inhuman in the first place.  The blood was so thick, it's warmth spreading over her as it fell... and she smelled it.  She'd always thought people that spoke of the choking scent of blood were just being overdramatic, but... not so.  How could he not be trembling from the pain..?
        Ah, easily.  His eyes weren't... they weren't there.  He wasn't entirely... aware.  She flashed back to that moment when she had to run from the house, how dead his eyes had become... and while they held more life to them as she gazed up in fear, they still weren't quite the calm blue she remembered.
        "Y-yes..."  She forced herself to find her voice.  If she could keep him there, calm him... maybe he could get himself out of the mess before he went into shock... or worse...  "Nick, it's Ally.  You remember?"
        He tilted his head like a mechanical puppet, wound pulsing even more heavily with blood, eyes wide but seemingly sightless.  "Yes."  He croaked, turning the knife in his hand slowly, only half aware of it.
        She spoke with great care, keeping her gaze on his eyes for any change at all.  "Nick... you have to snap out of it.  You have to go get stitches.  You're hurt."
        He surprised her in the worst kind of way--driving the knife in his hand straight through her left shoulder and into the floor below.  It didn't immediately hit her, the scope of what had happened, until she realized with a heavy dread that the high keening she was hearing was her own.  Questions, demands, hurt words didn't even form in her mind over the sudden drowning pain that shut down all thought.
        "Ally..." she barely heard again, just a whisper.  In one sleek motion, he pulled the knife from her and placed it almost delicately at her side, illiciting yet another gurgling cry.  He pressed a hand against the wound like a faith healer, pushing down and making it throb even more.  All her thrashing against him seemed like nothing, useless.  "Ally... relax, Ally..."
        Tears were streaming from her eyes in direct response to the pain--but she could make out the gleam as he poised the knife over her again.  There wasn't even time for fear to encompass her; he merely stabbed the already wounded shoulder once more... only this time, there was a distinct barrier preventing the blade from going all the way through.
        Even with the agony clouding her, her eyes opened with understanding.  Something... had been implanted in her shoulder.  Though... this was not the way to take care of that...
        "Get, the fuck, off of her, now."  Rex's voice--a split second before firing a warning shot over Nick's head.
        Bad timing, bad timing.  "Don't shoot, Rex."  She shivered with the pain even as she said it... her words seemed so ludicrous.  She was laying there, with a knife in her shoulder, a psycho holding her down, and an ex-Marine with what she was kinda sure was a little bit of a crazy streak, ready to blow someone's head off.  Nope, never thought that'd be what her life was to become.
        Nick didn't even turn his head at the sounds.  Like a machine, he needed to carry the operation out until the end.
        The viciously moaning cry was absolutely not able to be held back as Nick dug with the blade, getting the small device to the surface.  Tiny in structure, maybe--but god, damn, did it hurt to be removed.
        Rex swallowed, the gun in his grasp quivering just the slightest bit.  Only moment ago he'd left Ally to her own self-assured devices, to be taken down by this... abomination in a human shell...
        When the implant was finally freed from her flesh, she gasped with a hopeful release.  It hurt, it still damn well hurt... but she hoped it was over.  Oh, god, it had to be over...  She let her head fall to the side, not willing to gaze at the empty eyes for fear they'd remain that way...  She chose to try to focus on exactly how the implant had gotten there in the first place.  She must have been drugged in her sleep at the Hotel Loony or something.  Didn't seem terribly possible, considering the little she slept... but then, just who the hell knew what went on in there.
        A silent, delayed trigger snapped somewhere in Nick's mind.  He blinked, wincing... blinking again, rapidly, as if just waking up from a trance.  "Ally..." the knife slid from his hands--hands suddenly pressed over his mouth in shock and grief, smearing their combined blood over his face.  "Oh, god..."  He reached out to touch her, to offer her comfort... but he just couldn't do it.  He was so afraid he'd hurt her again...  He jerked back and away, leaving her laying alone and covered in blood on the concrete floor.
        It was then that his own pain struck, his throat ignited in a throbbing fire.  He gasped, but it only served to burn more vividly, his hand finding the wound--then pulling away in fear and disgust.  What... the hell..?
        Rex remained silent... save a quiet sigh as he tucked the gun into his pants.  Well now.  Wasn't everything just fucked all to peachy.  He wasn't certain about any aspect of what had just happened... but it didn't exactly matter.  He tugged the other sleeve from his workshirt with one annoyed motion, then carefully began to pull Nick's hands away so he could try to wrap the wound without cutting off his air.
        As for Nick, the continued shock, confusion and pain pretty much prevented him from doing much more than going along with the idea, even when the fabric tight along his throat burned and made it hard to breathe.  The past few hours seemed to come through in a slow, blurry dream... bits and pieces, and not in first-person.  Just some... awful nightmare that seemed like it should be better off forgotten.
        That much done, Rex turned to Ally.  "I don't have much clean shirt left."
        She was pressing a hand against her bleeding shoulder, trying not to whimper.  "S'okay."  She rasped.  "Use mine.  Belly shirts are in, anyway."
        He nodded with a swallow, kneeling very carefully in front of her.  Taking the tiny fold-out knife on his keychain, he cut up the side seam and over, half cutting and half tearing his way all the way around until he had a nice long strip of the shirt.  That in hand, he wrapped it twice around her shoulder and pulled it tightly.
        That got a shrill burst of sound.  She tried to bite it back, but she hadn't known just how strong the pain would be.  She held her wounded arm, folded into her gut, trying to take her mind off of the unreal feeling of being stabbed.  All those books, every movie she'd ever watched... were no preparation for the real thing.
        Nick watched, wide-eyed.  It made him forget about his own pain, if only for a moment...  He'd done that.  He, had done that, to her.  How... could he ever..?
        Rex grunted, his own wound causing a cold shard to rip into his stomach as he tried to get up under his own power.  What a piece of work they were.
        Still shivering from the pain and the added unpleasant sensations of the situation, Ally's gaze floated to familiar blue eyes--only, this time they were clouded with unspeakable anguish.  "Hey."  She tried, surprising herself by how tired her voice sounded.

     
Content copyright Orin Drake 2011.
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