What If
Darien Fawkes paced the white room restlessly. This wasn't so uncommon for him even after all this time. With a lengthy sigh he collapsed back onto the white-sheeted bed and stared up at the white painted ceiling. He was really sick of the color white, it mocked him at every turn.
The room itself consisted of white walls, a white ceiling, a white floor, and even a white door with no handle. Other than that there was just the bed and Darien, dressed in his usual white cotton shirt and pants. He hadn't worn anything different for...he didn't know how long anymore. With another long sigh he grumbled out, "Boy, I'm just in a winter wonderland here, aren't I?" His eyes strayed up to the camera nestled in the corner, purposely out of his reach. Its black eye gazed hollowly back at him like some demon spawned from hell.
Darien suppressed a shiver and squeezing his eyes against his fears rolled onto his side. Opening them again, he stared numbly at the silver band around his left wrist. Other than the camera, it was the only thing that wasn't white and something Darien had even more hatred for. The bracelet was small and flat, the edges were smoothed to a polish with the lock just as smooth so it formed a solid silver oval ring about his wrist. Across the top was imprinted 'QSTS1' and at first glance a person would say that was all the bracelet contained, but Darien knew better. The lock for instance wasn't a real lock per say, or least nothing he could pick. There was a sort of electromagnetic mechanism inside the thin metal that with a special key caused the metal band to unclamp. The bracelet also contained a tracking device, Darien had learned that out the hard way. He was pretty sure it wasn't the only tracker on him anymore. They hadn't said anything of coarse, but with all the secret tech crap in this place he just couldn't see it any other way.
Reaching up to idly finger the silver ring he glanced at the tattoo on his right wrist, a perfect example of that hidden technology. The snake tattoo glared back at him as it curled biting its tail, well over half the body was red against a dark green. That was what, he thought to himself, about ten minutes of quicksilver use? He contemplated cutting that time down some, it would be much better than what he knew was coming. But no, it was too early, he'd be invisible for only a minute before they'd come in and drug him, forcing him to wait.
No, Darien thought angrily, he wouldn't give them that pleasure. He'd had a lot of practice now timing this well, timing how best to disrupt their experiments. He got up and began pacing again. Running a hand through his hair he could feel the loose curls flop shaggily back. What he wouldn't give for a mirror, or a clock, or just about anything.
The click of the lock at the door startled Darien out of his mood, his heart skipping a beat reactively as he felt his mouth go instantly dry. He wanted to hug himself against the sudden chill as the door swung open, but Darien resisted, barely.
A shorter, balding man entered, his black uniform accented by the holstered gun, radio, and cuffs attached to his belt, along with a couple other various small objects. "Hey there, buddy." This time Darien couldn't suppress the shiver that flooded his body as he cringed at the name. Bobby Hobbes was certainly 'not' his 'buddy' and on several occasions Darien had made a point of pursuing that exact fact. He had long since been persuaded otherwise. The man pretended not to see Darien's reaction and told him casually. "The Keeper wants to see you. It'll be a long sit, so I'd advise you take a pit stop."
Darien nodded and with a motion from the man followed Hobbes out of the white room and into the white walled hallway. It wasn't all white, there was some variety, but it looked exactly like you'd imagine any secret underground government installation to look, a padlock on every door. His room was slightly different, you had to pass through an extra room where the monitor was set up and another security lock before one could even get into the hall. This entire section of the complex, Darien also knew, was blocked off to anyone outside the QS personal with yet another security gate at the end of the wing. Darien had gone past those doors only a few times the entire time he'd been kept here, the last time during one of his escape attempts.
As was usual every time Darien was taken out of his cell, two armed guards took up position behind him and Hobbes, each wearing thermal sunglasses and carrying dart guns. "Hello, Scott, John," Darien greeted blandly. They didn't answer, they never did.
Feeling alienated and claustrophobic at the same time all Darien could do was follow Hobbes down the empty hallway. At least they weren't cuffing him anymore, Darien grimly thought to himself. Actually, they had stopped doing that after Darien kept snapping the chains off them.
"Alright, make it quick," Hobbes stated leading Darien into the men's room or at least the equivalent of such. It was more like a large stall, the mirror and anything else that could be a potential danger had been removed. Privacy had gone right out the door the first day Darien was instituted in this hellhole.
Darien sighed slightly, but then spotted with surprise a magazine someone apparently had forgotten on the back of the toilet. He automatically reached for it, but Hobbes snatched it up in an instant, grumbling some obscenity under his breath. "Ah come on, man!" Darien protested and then immediately fell silent from the look on the man's face.
"This is not for you, my friend," Hobbes stated, his face contorted in annoyance. Darien didn't doubt that who ever had left it there was going to be in serious trouble before the day was through. "Get on with it, I haven't got all day," Hobbes ordered.
"Alright, alright," Darien murmured, turning back to his task, but it wasn't easy, his mind was still on the magazine. It looked like a Times magazine with some face Darien didn't recognize on the cover, but Darien didn't care. It was something different, something from the real world.
His mind came crashing back to the reality of his nightmare world when they entered lab 5. Three scientists were hovered around a piece of machinery, one was on the ground with the bottom panel open and messing with the wires inside. "Okay, try it now, Claire," the man said from below.
The woman, Claire, also the Keeper who Hobbes had referred to earlier, flipped a switch, smiling as the sensors came flickering on. "That did it Mike," she said pleased.
The third scientist, the youngest of the three, walked over to another set up as he checked something on the screen. "I think they're aligning, Claire," the young man told her with a grin.
"Good, good. All right Ben, Make sure you do a diagnostics test before we go any further." Claire quickly replied. Hobbes cleared his throat to get the woman's attention. "Oh yes, put him in the chair, please." She told him distractedly and immediately went back to the console she was working on with her companions.
"Alright, kid, you know the routine," Hobbes gruffly said guiding Darien to the chair in the middle of the large lab. The chair itself wasn't so bad but with everything that surrounded it, the thing looked like it was about to be eaten alive, which was how Darien felt half the time.
With a small sigh he sat down and let himself be strapped in. The restraints bit slightly into his skin from the metal reinforcements that had been added, especially where it rubbed against his id bracelet, and he grimaced slightly in protest. The Keeper came around to the side of the chair, her face creased as she critically examined his face with her eyes. Darien wasn't sure what she looking for but imagined he looked pretty pathetic.
"You're not eating enough," she commented then.
"I haven't been hungry." Darien had meant to say it with sarcasm, but instead the words came out dull and monotone.
Her frown deepened. "I don't want to put you on a drip again." She sighed then, her mind shifting gears. "Alright, what's his usage at?" Claire asked Bobby.
"Six, going on seven," the man told her referring to the snake that monitored the quicksilver.
"Good, let's get started. We've got plenty of time before QSM."
QSM, Quicksilver Madness, that was the event Darien dreaded the most, and the event he tried to bring on himself as fast and as often as he could get away with it. Tomorrow, he firmly told himself and with some nervousness settled in for whatever experiment they were planning on trying today.
Hobbes had been right, it was a long sit. Much to Darien's apprehension, the piece of machinery the scientists had been meddling with earlier was exactly what they planned on using today. After an hour or so, they had Darien covered in various wires and monitor set-ups. An hour after that he sat listening to the beep of said monitors. Bobby stood opposite him leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. It was kind of unnerving the way the man could just stare at Darien for such long periods at a time and have only the barest of emotion filter across his face. It was his job, Darien guessed. He turned, looking to the door where Scott and John stood guard, looking almost as stoic as Hobbes did.
Then the Keeper came back around with Ben at her side baring a syringe and vile filled with a foggy red liquid. "Whoa, whoa, what's that?" Darien immediately tensed, vainly trying to back away.
"Calm down, Darien. This will go much smoother if you just relax." She told him taking the syringe and filling it. The way she said it made him even more nervous and when Ben reached out to hold his head still, Darien jerked away.
"Hell no! Get that stuff away from me!" Darien growled out. He no longer cared about waiting, he knew where they planned on putting that needle and he knew exactly how much it was going to hurt.
"Darien," Claire chastised annoyed, motioning to Bobby.
The man was on the other side of the chair in an instant and between him and Ben they were able to hold Darien's head still without disrupting the wires. Darien's cries of protest turned to screams of pain as Claire injected the substance into the artery in his neck. "Mike!" Claire called out even as Darien's eyes rolled up in his head and the scream faded away to unconsciousness.
"It's good, we're getting feedback on...damn!" Even as he said it a sensor went off, the violent beeping accented as Darien suddenly came awake. He surged forward against his restraints sucking in a large breath of air. He sank back breathing in quick and sharp his eyes going wide against the pain that throbbed through his head to his body. His muscles felt like they were on fire and his chest constricted. The claustrophobia rose like a fog and Darien frantically sucked in even more air searching for the air his mind told him wasn't there. The panic rising with the pain, Darien jerked even harder against his straps in a growing frenzy, his nails digging into the palms of his hands as his knuckles went white with fear.
"Mike?" Claire called again in alarm.
Mike was frantically typing at a keyboard but shook his head. "Sorry, Claire, the tracer's not taking, the gland's rejecting it completely, forcing it into the other areas of his mind."
"Ben," Claire ordered sharply, the kid taking off for the fridge at a dash. "Hobbes, help me get him out of the restraints before he hurts himself."
"I don't think that's wise-" Hobbes began, but Claire cut him off and they pulled the last strap off as Ben came dashing back with a fresh needle already loaded with a clear liquid.
Taking it while they grappled with Darien to hold him still again, Claire pushed the substance directly into the gland. Darien screamed again, but as his cries faded so did the pain, leaving him feeling completely exhausted.
Darien's mind felt numb as he lay there limply on the chair, listening with unhearing ears as the three scientists discussed 'what went wrong' and staring blankly at the far wall. Then quietly, a rage slowly began to grow in his mind till it fill his every thought, and with a sudden start Darien realized he wasn't currently restrained. Darien didn't think anymore, but let the red-hot anger fuel his motions.
The quicksilver covered his body even as he grabbed Hobbes' gun and snaking an arm around the man's neck jumped off the chair. All the wires and connections had frozen from the quicksilver and snapped off without a problem, setting him free. "Let me out of here!" Darien screamed holding the gun on the smaller man as he frantically backed up trying to use Hobbes as cover.
Scott and John had their guns drawn as they sprinted towards him. "Get back! I'll shoot him, you know I will!" Darien yelled at them to keep their distance.
To the average viewer it looked like Hobbes was just standing there a floating gun to his head, but one could see where frost was forming around the man's neck and on his shirt, where Darien's arm held him in a head lock. The two guards stopped their advance, and then Claire tried. "Darien, why don't you put the gun down. You don't want to do this. You don't want to kill."
"Oh yes I do," Darien growled out venomously.
He felt Hobbes relax then, it was the only warning Darien had before a piercing pain engulfed his knee and Darien stumbled back, all his limbs going briefly numb as they tried to absorb the shock of the pain. The quicksilver shed. Hobbes reached around grabbing his gun back as he spun out of Darien's grasp, his leg coming up in a kick.
"Not the head!" The Keeper needlessly called out. Bobby hadn't planned on it and his foot made sharp contact with Darien's ribs forcing the man to the ground gasping once again for air.
Darien squeezed his eyes shut, curling instinctually as his chest constricted again, but this time every gasp sent knives through him and it was all he could do to get any air in at all. His muscles complained loudly and he couldn't even feel his leg through the burning that consumed it. The rage buried itself deep within him, leaving Darien weak and to the thralls of fear as he lay there unable to move.
Sighing, Claire shook her head in regard to Darien before moving to Hobbes. "Are you alright?" She asked critically checking his neck for frostbite.
"Oh ya, no one takes Bobby Hobbes hostage!" He said though he rubbed at his neck grimacing, it was still cold but there was no damage.
Glancing from the cringing man on the floor to the two guards now standing over him, she said with another sigh. "You might as well shoot him, I'm going to have to set his knee anyway."
Scott nodded but before he could pull the trigger Hobbes took the dart gun from his hand to do it himself.
Fear flooded Darien and he swallowed hard before opening his eyes to gaze up. Hobbes' face was like stone as he met Darien's gaze then the dart struck Darien's chest and Darien felt the toxins add themselves to everything else. He relaxed unwillingly, sinking back into unconsciousness, unfortunately, this time, the pain followed him there.
Bobby motioned for his men to pick Darien up and put him on the table as he turned back to Claire. "You know he's going to try to go QSM prematurely when he wakes." Hobbes told her.
"I know," Claire said as she checked the snake, another segment was filled now. She looked frustrated. "What I really need is one full cycle without quicksilver use and without drugs," she quietly exclaimed.
"Do you want me to talk to him?" Hobbes asked.
Claire glanced quickly up at him, a small laugh on the tip of her tongue before she said seriously, "Bobby, the last time you 'talked' with him, he was unconscious for five days. As is I think you might have broken a couple of his ribs."
Bobby shrugged, "I won't touch him, I promise." Claire looked back up at the man with raised eyebrows of disbelief. The man smirked, "Don't worry Claire, Bobby Hobbes is your man!"
When Darien woke again it was to the same white walls in the same white room he had started the day in. Feeling groggy Darien tried to move but the second he did his chest and leg protested violently. Catching his breath Darien gingerly reached up and probed the sore and tender areas. Bandages were wrapped around his chest under a fresh white shirt. He felt his hair, it was dry but his pillow was still slightly damp, telling him they had bathed and dressed him while he was out. He wondered if this was what if felt like for people in nursing homes, except he doubted they ended up in as much pain as he was in right then.
Grinding his teeth he shifted again, determined to get a bit more comfortable. Gratefully, the second he lay still and relaxed the burning faded to a dull ache. Curious, Darien looked down the length of his body to his leg. He could feel the wrapping on his knee as well and experimentally tried to bend his leg wondering if it was broken. It wasn't, and the leg did bend, though not easily. After a bit Darien just let himself relax, staring up at the ceiling with numb thoughts.
A couple hours went by and growing restless Darien began to push his limbs into movement. He could only lie still for only so long, no matter how he felt. Yet he soon discovered that the more he stretched out his stiff muscles the better he felt, as long as he didn't breath too deeply or put pressure on his leg, he was doing fine.
At the same time, it didn't take long before he'd sapped all of his energy and Darien found himself collapsing back on the bed exhausted. Sitting against the wall bored, Darien numbly looked over to the door as it opened.
Hobbes came into the room a chair in hand that he set down a couple feet away and sat on backwards, crossing his arms across the back of it to make himself comfortable. That said something to how much they felt Darien was injured to risk bringing a chair into the room. Either that or Hobbes was just confident it wouldn't make a difference at this point. Darien swallowed against his dry throat thinking it probably wouldn't.
For several long minutes the two men just regarded each other, their faces expressionless. Then Hobbes calmly stated, "We need to have a talk, kid."
Darien cringed reactively shrinking a couple inches away. He felt the pain in his chest burn in response. Hobbes regarded Darien carefully, a look of consternation on his face. He reached behind him and pulled a magazine out of his back pocket and tossed it on the bed next to Darien.
Staring with trepidation at the forbidden object, Darien asked in confusion, "What's this?"
"It's a magazine," the man answered the obvious. "I remembered something about you liking that philosophy crap." He paused when Darien still sat frozen in place then shrugging with indifference moved to take it back. "If you don't want it-"
"No," Darien cut him off, his hand quickly covering the object and pulling it towards him. Yet he couldn't take his eyes off of Hobbes expecting it to be some sort of trick. When the man settled back into his chair, Darien finally, cautiously, lifted the "Philosophy Now" magazine looking longingly at the color filled cover. When he realized his hand was trembling, Darien let the magazine lay on his lap and frowning over at Hobbes quietly demanded, "Why?"
Lips thinning Hobbes told him, "I want to make a deal with you, kid. Until the Keeper says otherwise I don't want you using any quicksilver, not a drop, and each day I'll give you something new." He motioned to the magazine. "Like that. Now I know we tried this before and it didn't work out so well, but I have a feeling you might be feeling differently about it now."
Darien looked from Hobbes to the magazine. He knew what they were asking, and Darien had made a point of not giving it to them, but...His fingers moved over the thick paper. It was a hard choice, cooperating with them and begin allowed glimpses into the real world, or not, and letting his rage manifest.
"Look Kid," Hobbes said sincerely as if completely understanding Darien's dilemma. "You're less then a day from QSM, we know you plan to push it again." He paused watching Darien carefully as he said, "If you let the Keeper do what she has to do, I'll take you topside, I promise."
"What? You mean outside?" Darien asked in shock. He hadn't been let outside in over a year, why would they let him now? "Why should I believe you?" Darien couldn't resist from questioning and inwardly cringed when Hobbes stood up.
"Bobby Hobbes always keeps his promises," the man stated. Darien knew that to be true, no matter what the promise was. He softly let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when Bobby picked up the chair and took a step towards the door.
It clicked open for him, and turning back Hobbes steadily asked, "So, we have a deal?"
Darien swallowed. He looked at the magazine again and finally nodded, softly agreeing, perhaps to his doom, "Yes."
"Good." Hobbes replied and left, the door shutting behind him.
As soon as the man was gone Darien backed himself into the corner and taking several slow breaths to calm his nerves he eagerly opened the now sacred magazine.
*****
Darien took several nervous breaths as he stared through the eye protection goggles at the metal and light sensors that surrounded him. He felt like he was a coffin, he thought ruefully. Darien automatically tried to move but the way he was strapped down to the metal slab made that near impossible and he breathed in harder against the growing panic. He could hear through the casing of the machine the immediate response.
"Claire, his heart rate's rising."
"Bring it down Darien," the Keeper's voice sternly ordered.
"Easy for you to say," Darien grumbled but purposely slowed his breathing trying to force himself to relax. The dull ache in his head suddenly flamed and he jerked against the straps crying out between gasps. The headaches that signified the coming of QSM had been growing all day, or night, he rarely knew one day from the next anymore. With the reddening of the ninth cell they had cocooned him within the infernal machine to await and monitor every step of the change. That was hours and hours ago.
Darien gasped again, grinding his teeth as he fought the next wave of pain. It wasn't just a sharp pain, like a knife, but was more like the gland itself was alive and the beast wanted out. He knew there was only two ways for the pain to end, with counteragent, or to let it happen, to let the animal free. Darien wished he could claw at his neck, if he could pulled the damn gland out with his bare hands he would.
When the pain faded away to the ache he sighed, taking the momentary relief, but the sharp taste of iron filled his mouth and Darien realized with remorse that he'd bit his tongue. "Great," he breathed out fighting back the urge to speed the process up. All it would take now was not even a minute of quicksilver use to push him over the edge, to end the pain, and then they'd be forced to give him the counteragent and he'd start the whole process over again. It was tempting, really tempting, but so was the idea of seeing daylight, if even just for a minute. Actually, he'd prefer it if it was night, they never turned the lights out down here, but the whole idea of stepping outside and breathing real air convinced him to hold out. He only had to do it this once, right? He lamely tried to convince himself, and squeezing his eyes shut Darien steeled himself for the next attack.
When the final one came he was so consumed by it that the world turned surreal, and when it ended, it was as if everything just fell away. The pain, his fears, even his rage fell to a determination that suddenly engulfed him. Darien wanted only one thing, to kill everyone and anyone who had put him here.
They left him like that for some time and Darien listened to all the science talk that was transpiring outside his confines, blood in his eyes and murder in his thoughts. Annoyed and impatient Darien pulled against the straps. He couldn't feel the pain of the bruises it caused, all he knew was that he wanted out and so he pulled harder, but the straps held. With frustration Darien yelled out several threats and obscenities, hoping for a reaction. There was a pause, but the scientists just ignored him, continuing with their 'research.'
Darien called out a few more choice words before he stopped, and with the beast he calmly waited.
A couple hours later the metal slab slid out from its cocoon and after Claire removed the covering from his eyes, the beast grinned up at the Keeper and Hobbes. "Wanna play?" Darien calmly asked. All at once Darien growled out as he jerked even harder against the restraints on the off chance one might break. They didn't, but he was satisfied by the fact that he'd managed to startle them and smiling widely, Darien out right laughed.
"Alright Darien, time to put the demon away," Claire said with thinning lips. As she spoke she prepped the needle of counteragent.
Darien sniffed the air like an animal might sniff a familiar scent. "But the demon really wants to play with you, Claire," Darien drawled out grinning at her hungrily. He wasn't fazed as she plunged the needle into his arm and injected the serum. With a voice full of malice he vowed, "I'm going to kill you one day. All of you." A second later his head lulled back and his eyelids fluttered closed as the counteragent took effect and he slipped briefly to unconsciousness.
"I don't doubt it," Claire murmured biting her bottom lip as she regarded the unconscious man.
Bobby looked up at her a little startled but he didn't comment. Instead he asked, "did you get what you needed?"
"Yes," She told him and began to undo the straps holding Darien. "In fact, I think it's enough information that we can begin to administer the counteragent before his reaches QSM. At least, for a few months anyway."
"The kid will be happy to hear it," Bobby stated gruffly, also unfastening straps, then with an odd expression commented, "Somehow I don't think he's going to let us do this more than this once. I know I wouldn't."
Claire flipped off the last strap and frowned at Bobby. Her thoughts were interrupted as Darien came awake.
Blinking back the fog, panic, and fear as the remains of the beast flooded through him, Darien sucked in a shaky breath. Pushing himself off, he moved away from the contraption as fast as he could, hitting the far wall as he hugged himself against the cold that threatened to engulf him. The counteragent may chemically reduce the effects of QSM, but putting away the rage that fueled the beast was a completely different matter.
"Darien," Hobbes growled out in warning.
"No, no I'm good, I'm being good," Darien said squeezing his eyes shut and shivering that much harder. Then he sank to the floor, his old and new pains making themselves quite prominent in his mind. "I'm good," Darien continued to murmur more to himself than anyone else.
Hobbes walked over to the man. Darien looked up at him with pleading eyes, unable to swallow his fear, he quietly stated, "I didn't go invisible."
"No, you didn't." Hobbes replied, then reaching down swung one of Darien's arms around his shoulders to pull him up. Darien bit back a cry as his ribs rejected the action, but he already knew he wouldn't be able to stand for long without help and endured the small inconvenience.
"Eat and sleep, in that order," Claire stated sternly.
Panic filled Darien's veins. "You said I could go outside."
"You will, after you rest," Hobbes told him.
"You said I could go outside," Darien repeated the panic rising unwanted.
Hobbes shook his head, "Alright, if you make it through your meal without falling asleep, we'll go outside then." Darien nodded numbly although the Keeper looked ready to protest. Hobbes just raised a hand saying to her, "Don't worry, I'll take care of him."
Well, Darien didn't make it through his meal before collapsing from exhaustion. If he hadn't been so tired before hand he would have accused them of drugging him, but when he woke he was pleased to find himself still able to move, if stiffly. Several new bruises lined his arms, legs, and midsection, which he examined gingerly, sarcastically thinking that he had to get his prison stripes somehow. Then Hobbes came into the room, and after taking Darien to eat and such finally lead the man past the wing doors to the upper levels of the compound and finally to the outside world, bringing with him a platoon of security.
Darien stepped from the second elevator into the hollowed building that housed it. He could see bright light streaming in through the fogged and dirty windows and blinking, headed straight for it like a moth to a flame.
Hobbes made several hand motions, the guards separating, taking close but still discrete positions where they could watch everything from the perimeter to Darien should he try anything. Personally, Hobbes was amazed the man could stand at all and trying not to rush the guy stayed quietly at Darien's side.
From the second Darien stepped outside the building and took his first breath of real air a smile of pure bliss spread across his face. Closing his eyes he breathed in deeply, savoring the smells that infiltrated his senses. Then opening his eyes he stared around at the dessert and shrub terrain. There wasn't much to look at, and it was pretty close to how he remembered it but it wasn't white, and that's all he cared about.
Spying a picnic table Darien shuffled towards it, cringing slightly as rocks bit into his bare feet. Frowning down at the dirt ground as if he hadn't expected that Darien moved even more slowly, carefully picking where to put his feet to avoid the sharper rocks. At the table he sank down, Hobbes coming to sit quietly on the other side.
Darien sat in silence for a long time then, grateful that his constant sentry remained quiet as well, Darien didn't want anything to disrupt the moment. Determinedly looking past the men that watched them, Darien studied everything from the stark looking buildings to the spiny tress that lined the compound. They were at the back entrance to the installation, he could see vehicles moving in the distance at the other end, and a small dirt parking lot that a few people were meandering about in. All of it safely tucked away from any prying eyes.
Darien turned his eyes up to the sun then, it was high in the sky, so it was about noon he figured, or early afternoon. For Darien, it still felt like early morning. Struggling for a minute with the thought he readjusted himself to the time of day and feeling satisfied smiled at his self-accomplishment. Here, outside, with nothing to remind him of the horrors that existed below, Darien could almost imagine, if just for a minute, that life was normal. He was just some normal guy sitting outside, enjoying the sun. Sure. Right.
An hour passed in silence. Then an hour more. Darien would have stayed out there till the sunset, but he knew that wouldn't be allowed. Frankly, he was amazed Hobbes hadn't dragged him back underground already. Darien pressed two rocks together in his fingers as he looked over at the man sitting opposite him. Hobbes returned the gaze, his face a mask of stone.
"So," Darien began hesitantly, he'd relished in the silence up till that moment, and then at last his apprehension got the better of him. "Why do you..." he paused again realizing quickly this was not the question to ask but knew he was stuck with it. "ah, do, what you do?"
Hobbes' eyes narrowed slightly as he regarded his charge. "I serve my country, my friend," he answered studiously.
"No, but what's the real reason?" Darien blurted out before he caught himself. A dark looked crossed the other man's face and Darien unconsciously held his breath. "Sorry, I did-" Darien began to mumble but was cut off.
"The pay's good." Hobbes suddenly stated and standing up, commented, "I think it's time for you to go in."
"Ya, sure, okay," Darien quickly agreed silently cursing himself for opening his mouth in the first place. He cringed as he stretched out his stiff and sore joints, his knee was throbbing now, something Darien hadn't really noticed till he tried to move it, but it still held his weight and walking even slower than before, Darien limped his way back towards the building.
They had just reached the door, the outer guards coming in behind when Hobbes stretched out a hand across Darien's chest to stop him. Darien froze, his body going taunt in fear, but Hobbes removed his hand and turned it palm side up. "The rocks?" He requested.
Darien felt breath come back to him and he looked down at the two stones still pressed between his fingers. He hadn't meant to bring them, but he didn't want to let them go, either. Regretfully, he dutifully dropped the objects in Hobbes' hand and stepped back into the hollow building.
The trip was short, but Darien still imagined it to be very much like riding the elevator down to hell. An inevitable trip for someone like him. With a long sigh they entered the sterile hallways once again. There were more people on the upper halls, more of a lot of things, Darien thought with envy and gazed with open curiosity through every window they passed along the way.
There were people of various dress codes up here, all of which flattened themselves against the walls as Darien and his armed escort passed them by. Darien could feel their eyes on him as he passed, he could only wonder at what these people were thinking, did they know anything of what existed on the lower levels? From the whispers that erupted in their wake, Darien was beginning to think they didn't. Then again, these people were all scientists, and since when were scientists human? He angrily thought to himself. All at once, Darien couldn't wait to be back in his quiet white room.
He was so consumed in his thoughts that Darien didn't even realize something was amiss till he heard Hobbes call out in warning.
Darien watched wide eyed as a woman burst out of a room only a few feet down the hall and with a savage cry blindly surged right into their little group. One of the sentries had stepped forward to catch her but with a grunt was pushed back heavily into the wall before being knocked to the ground. The girl let out an inhuman cry and flung about widely with whatever came within a foot of her, managing to take another guard down in her frenzy.
Darien was in shock. She was dressed in whites, just like him, even had a silver bracelet around her wrist, just like him, and right now if he didn't know better he'd swear she was in the thralls of QSM. Then Hobbes was there, and with quick movements the man had stopped her flight with a crack across her skull, she fell to the floor with a sob as she curled reactively on her side, but she didn't fall unconscious.
At that moment two thoughts ran through Darien's head. The first was bread into him from the day he came here. That was to escape. If there was ever a time, it'd be now, when everyone was distracted and he was so close to the surface. Yet the other thought was oddly more persistent, and Darien suddenly leapt forward, pushing the others back as he awkwardly knelt at the girl's head, murmuring insistently, "You're alright, you're fine, you're going to be okay."
She turned tear filled eyes up at him, they were red from crying, but nothing else. Reaching out to him, Darien pulled her close. Seconds later several men in lab coats burst through the same door the girl had come through only minutes before. They skidded to a halt to see their runaway in the company of Hobbes and his elite. Darien watched silently, feeling the woman's fear seeping into his own as he hugged her protectively tighter.
A dark featured man, the apparent leader of the scientists, glowered first at the girl, then at Darien and finally at Hobbes. Hobbes returned the look with equal hatred unlike any Darien had ever seen before in the man, sending shivers running down his back.
"Well, thank you, Hobbes, for finding my charge," The scientist tersely stated.
Hobbes took a step towards the guy, his men automatically forming a circle around both Darien and the woman. "You wouldn't have lost her if you took the proper security measures, Henderson," Hobbes stated in a dangerously low voice that changed emphatically as he said the scientist's name. Henderson's face washed with displeasure, though his companions backed up slightly nervous.
"Yes, well. I'll be sure to remember that, Bobby." Henderson quietly said meeting the unspoken challenge. "Now. I need her back. We've still several more tests to run."
Darien felt the woman cringe and cling so tight he gasped in protest, his broken ribs sending ribbons of pain through his chest, but he didn't let go of her. Hobbes glanced over his shoulder at the two on the floor and turning back to Henderson stated, "I think she's had enough for today. I'll make sure she gets to where she's going."
Henderson scowled with open anger. "Hobbes you can't do this. I'll report it," he threatened, but Hobbes just brushed it off.
"Go right ahead," he growled back, then motioned to his men.
Darien felt the hands lifting him up, felt the woman in his arms tense ready to panic again and adding his support, quickly reassured, "It's alright, come on." As they stood Darien saw Henderson scowl some more, a look of murder in the man's eyes as he regarded Hobbes, then the man turned those eyes directly on Darien. Chills swept through Darien's body. Then, slowly, with help, Darien and the woman were propelled down the hall away from the fuming scientist and his team. Hobbes looked just as angry as Henderson had as they passed through the second wing and took another elevator to the lower levels.
It was in the elevator that the woman spoke for the first time. She looked up at Darien, and then over at Hobbes, saying quietly, "Thank you."
Hobbes made a sort of huffing noise, his face still contorted with his dark thoughts and what ever resentment he held against Henderson. Then he calmed some and asked, "What's your id number?"
Inwardly Darien cringed, it was such a callous question, but she answered it simply, "APTS32." With a hesitant look up she finally stepped away from Darien and startled, looked around the elevator as if realizing for the first time where she was. "Who are you?" She asked suddenly.
"My name's Darien," Darien answered, then after seeing her eyes stray to his id bracelet added, "QSTS1." A look of shock and some fear reflected in her eyes as she took a step back. Darien felt his heart drop and his throat constrict from her response.
Hobbes hit the stop lock button and turned a penetrating gaze upon the woman. "What do you know of project QS?"
She quickly shook her head. "Nothing. Really."
But Hobbes asked steadily, "What has Henderson said?"
The woman, APTS32, swallowed and told them, "Not much. He's been mostly bitter against it, against you," she said looking to Hobbes. "I hear him complain that it takes most of the funding. Nothing else, really..." she faded off nervously biting at her lip.
After a second Hobbes nodded and hitting another bottom the elevator resumed its ride. When the doors opened Bobby said to her, a surprising amount of gentleness in his voice, "I'll have to hold you in his room till I can sort things out, but I promise you'll not be seeing Henderson again, at least till tomorrow."
The girl glanced nervously at Darien but nodded. Darien walked through the last security gate into the lower wing with an immense wave of depression. Was he really some kind of monster? He wondered silently.
Hobbes left the two in the white room, and Darien limped over to sink down on the bed with a small sigh of relief. Feeling awkward and a little invaded, Darien looked over at the woman, but she looked just as nervous as he felt. "So, my name's Darien," Darien said sliding back to sit against the wall in the hope that he would come off as non-offensive as possible.
She chewed her lip again and pushing her hair back behind her ears replied, "Mira." She still seemed skittish, but looked to be relaxing somewhat as she looked around the near bare room. "So, this is...your room?"
"Ya, well, it's sort of between...things," Darien stumbled as he gazed around at what he called home. "It's not much, but...I've got a magazine," he told her realizing just how lame that sounded even as he pulled it out from under his pillow to show her.
Mira immediately turned away to face the wall. "What?" Darien asked feeling even more put to shame.
"No, no, it's not you," she quickly told him. "I just can't look at numbers or words, I go crazy."
"Ya, I know what that's like," Darien grumbled and sliding the precious object back under the pillow said, "okay, it's out of sight."
She turned cautiously, then regarding him for a minute smiled and laughed softly. "This is silly of me, I'm sorry," she apologized sincerely.
Darien frowned, not sure how to respond. He was beginning to think he'd been disassociated from society for far too long. Shrugging slightly, he commented, "I don't exactly get guests, so..." He faded off as she walked up to him. The fear in her eyes was gone, replaced by a welcomed empathy.
She glanced around the room again, taking in everything. "They really keep you on a tight leash, don't they?"
"Ya."
"So, what's so special down here?" She asked.
Darien shook his head nervously glancing at the camera in the corner. "I can't...you don't want to know."
"Is it you?" He numbly nodded, worried she might back away afraid again, but instead she surprised him by sitting down and putting her hand lightly on his. Darien froze at first but then relaxed when she smiled and said, "You don't seem so bad."
Then Darien took a chance and looking at her with eager eyes asked, "What's the date?"
She was surprised. "You mean you don't know?"
"I didn't even know it was day until today," he replied ruefully with a hesitant smirk.
Her lips twitched into a smile, but she still questioned, "This is all they give you? This is it? Not even paper and a pen?"
"They gave me a pen once, but I drew on the walls and they took it away," he replied impatient and turning imploring eyes upon her pleaded, "The date, please?"
She melted with that look and smiling sympathetically told him, "It's the fifteenth, of July."
"July," he murmured amazed. "Two Thousand and One?" She confirmed with a nod and he in turn nodded, digesting the information.
Mira frowned. "How long have you been here, Darien?"
"Too long," he said mournfully, then quickly sought to change the subject. "So, why are you here? I mean, in the compound and everything. Endless of coarse you can't talk about it, cause that's okay," he quickly added not wanting to cause trouble, but she laughed lightly and Darien suddenly found himself smiling in response.
"I could care less what they think," she told him honestly. "Until about two months ago I was a marine,"
"Was?" Darien questioned, the way she said it implied she didn't expect to ever be again.
Shrugging, Mira continued, "We were behind the lines, things happened, and I ended up barely alive with brain damage. A couple weeks later I regained a lot of my normal functions, but some things, like reading I can't do, and there's been other weird stuff, but I don't know how to explain it. That's why I came here, Dr. Henderson's trying to help me through it." Yet she shivered when she said his name, and Darien got the impression the help he was giving wasn't the kind she had bargained for. She looked away from Darien's gaze and hugging herself said, "I really shouldn't have bolted today, I just went crazy."
"Hey," Darien softly exclaimed to get her attention, and when she looked up he told her, "Sometimes you can't control the crazy, it just comes out on its own." She smiled grateful, and once again Darien found himself smiling in response.
In the adjoining room Hobbes stood next to the Keeper as she watched the monitor screen with deep interest. Claire leaned forward a bit when she saw Darien smile again, and listened to their conversation continue to talk about the world upstairs. "Well I'll be," she murmured quietly. Then glancing at Hobbes said, "I'm glad you came and got me. Your instincts were right on the money on this one, Bobby."
Hobbes didn't look so please but still commented, "And you expect anything less?"
Claire's lips twitched in a smile but her eyes were completely fixated on the occupants of the white room. "What was her id number again?"
"APTS32."
Nodding some in thought Claire murmured, "Yes, I remember her. I read Henderson's reports, he hasn't gotten very far. Heard the project was going to be vetoed as a wasted failure." Beside her she felt Hobbes go tense and with a sly grin told him, "Relax Bobby." She leaned in even closer to the screen saying, "I think we can find an even better use for her."
Hobbes huffed out, "Anyone's better off away from Henderson."
Frowning, Claire looked over at him as she watched him pull out a small bottle and dry swallow two pills. "I thought you weren't taking those anymore?" She asked.
"Just when my instincts tell me something's going to change." He replied completely serious as he slipped the bottle back into it's hiding place.
"Oh?" Claire asked lightly, though she regarded him with sober eyes. "Are these changes for the good or for the worse?"
Bobby didn't answer her directly but turned his attention steadily to the monitor. "I think that depends upon the view point, there Keepie."
*****
Darien opened his eyes to stare across the room at the white wall. Was it a dream? He wondered to himself. The room was quiet, still, and empty, just like it normally was. His hand slid under his pillow to feel the smooth texture of the cover of the magazine he'd been given, how long ago? He wasn't sure, but if it was any indication, then maybe the day before hadn't been a dream. He closed his eyes trying to pull back into his mind every bit that had happened, from the scent of the outside world to the sight of Mira. Mira...he felt a smile creep up. They had talked for hours before Mira had been escorted out. It was in Darien's recollection one of the best days he'd had in years, certainly the best he'd had since the gland had been implanted.
Darien just wished it hadn't ended so soon, he wasn't ready to exit the fantasy and rejoin the reality of his existence. With a lengthy sigh he rolled onto his back, the idle pains in his body groaning in protest but not complaining especially loud. A small round plastic covered plate was suspended on the wall a couple feet above his head. Four dots marked equal spaces and two metal sticks covered by the protective plastic face rotated from the middle of the plate. Darien blinked up at it with a frown, then comprehension dawned and he quickly sat up, this time grimacing from the sudden movement, his hand automatically going to his sore ribs.
Wondering if he was still dreaming, Darien reached out to touch the small clock. It was stuck to the wall, glued there somehow, but it was real, and as he listened, his acute ears could make out the subtle tick tick tick. Amazed, Darien realized that according to this clock it was shortly after nine. Was that morning or night? He wondered, but reasoned with everything that had happened it had to be morning. Nine in the morning, he thought, grinning. Getting up he began to stretch out for a low key morning exercise.
Some time later Darien was still feeling proud of himself while he ate his morning meal. The whole concept that it was morning still made him feel a bit giddy and he would still be smiling about it if Hobbes wasn't in the room. The place he ate each day wasn't exactly glamorous, nor was the food anything he'd call cuisine, more like bizarro gruel, but today they'd given him an apple, which Darien was happily saving for last. He wanted to be sure he remembered the apple as the last taste in his mouth this morning.
The room itself was just a big room with two booths and a table in the corner all of which was bolted to the ground, but they often left Darien locked in the room to eat on his own. Today Hobbes was pacing the floor with the air of a restless wildcat.
Darien idly stirred the concoction in the bowl with his spoon as he watched the man with a frown. He'd never seen his usually stoic bodyguard look so nervous. The action reminded him so keenly of something he read he automatically murmured it out loud. "To dare to live alone is the rarest courage..." Darien's voice trailed off as Hobbes turned hostile eyes upon him.
"What did you say?" Hobbes asked approaching the table and resting his hands on it as he leaned in towards the taller man.
Darien dropped his spoon and sat back nervous. "It was in the magazine." He told Hobbes hurriedly then added with agitated exasperation. "Geez man, I'm sorry. Calm down, it was just a quote." The expression that crossed the bald man's face told Darien he'd just said the wrong thing, and his heart sank as he watched Hobbes pick up the apple.
"Your comments are not appreciated," Hobbes growled out, then turning, left, with the apple, and pointedly taking a large bite as the door opened. Mournfully, Darien sighed, next time he was going to eat the apple first. Yet his dismay vanished when as the door open to let Hobbes out, Mira stepped in. She looked questioningly at Hobbes but he nodded before leaving, and she hurried over to sit across from Darien at the table with a huge smile. That smile was contagious.
"Darien, hi! Can you believe it? They said I could come see you again!" She greeted, then noticing what he was eating wrinkled her nose and asked. "What is that?"
Darien grinned at her reaction. "This is a protein drink, contains all eleven essential nutrients and any other vitamin or nutrient your body could ever want, or not want." He told her motioning to the off white substance in the plastic cup, then picking up his spoon and giving it a look of disgust added referring to the gruel, "I don't know what this is, but I like to pretend its oatmeal, or something."
Mira's shoulders shook with amusement from his comically pained expression although she smiled with sympathy. "I'm sorry."
"Nah, it's not that bad, I get other stuff, too, as long as it can be eaten with a spoon," And with that he dropped the spoon into the bowl, frowning as it made a 'glouping' sound. "Things that don't need forks or knives, they're on the 'can not have' list." He told her vainly missing the apple.
Mira smiled, then reaching out grabbed his hand to get his attention. "Darien, guess what?" Her eyes were alight with joy as she held up her hand so he could see the silver bracelet around her wrist as she spoke. "They transferred me to QS, I'm never going to have to work with Henderson again, and Claire thinks she can help me, in a lot less painful way. Plus they said I could see you more often."
Darien just stared with shock at the imprinted numbers on her bracelet, QSTS5. He felt the blood drain from his face in his horror as what she'd just told him sunk in. She'd been transferred to QS... "Darien?" Mira asked worried and alarmed by his reaction. It wasn't at all what she had expected.
Shaking his head Darien breathed out, "No. No Mira, you can't! This can't happen!" His agitation grew as fast as his panic and forcing himself to breathe slower to stay calm Darien quickly got up. "Mira, you don't want to be here. You shouldn't be here." He told her in a rush.
Confused, Mira tried to reassure him but froze as he turned his back on her and began pounding on the door. "Hobbes!" Darien yelled in anger, pounding even harder when there was no immediate response. His panic had given way to the rage and Darien no longer cared much about staying calm, he couldn't let this happen.
When the door finally slid open he could see the usual sentries of guards beyond as Hobbes frowned up at Darien. "What is it, buddy?" He questioned gruffly.
"She can't be here," Darien told him, pointing behind him to where Mira sat in stunned silence.
"The Keeper's going to help her out-" Hobbes replied but Darien angrily cut him off.
"You're not listening to me," Darien growled out. "I don't want her anywhere near QS!"
Face contorting into a scowl, Hobbes evenly responded, "You don't have a choice."
Darien couldn't hold back anymore and in frustration he grabbed at the collar of Hobbes' shirt. The man's reaction was instantaneous. Darien sucked in a sharp breath as he was slammed up against the wall, Hobbes' arm holding him there by pressing against the cracked ribs. Pain flooded Darien's body and his limps went weak, hands falling to his sides as he tried to regain his breath through the burning. Yet Darien refused to back down. Squeezing the tears from his eyes, he glared unrelenting at the man and horsed out, his voice low but full of venom as he stated, "every person on the QS has died, Hobbes!"
Hobbes met Darien mad stare evenly, calmly telling him in an equally low voice, "That's not true. You haven't."
They held each other with their eyes for several minutes, but with grief Darien realized Hobbes wasn't going to back down. His face now reflecting the pain he felt both physically and emotionally Darien whispered, "Get her out of here, Hobbes. I don't ever want to see her again."
Regarding Darien for a minute, Hobbes turned to the anxious woman at the table, saying formally. "Mira, I'm going to have to ask you to leave, now."
She got up slowly, pain and confusion in her emanating from her entire countenance. "Darien?" Mira hesitantly inquired, but he turned his head away, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. He couldn't handle seeing the pain on her face, not right now. He heard her softly sigh, the whoosh of the door as it closed, and at last as Hobbes lightened his pressure on Darien's chest, Darien opened his eyes taking an unsteady breath. He could see himself beginning to shake a little and clenching his fists tried to get it to stop.
"Eat your meal, Darien," Hobbes stated.
"I'm not hungry," Darien replied tonelessly.
Hobbes didn't move. "Eat it anyway," the man told him. "You're scheduled to be milked tonight." Now Darien really didn't feel hungry, and he felt the flood of fear surge through his veins.
After a minute Darien convinced himself to move back to the table, but his fears were interrupted as Hobbes quietly added, "I'll bring ya another apple, kid." Darien looked at the man with a start, surprised to see sympathy reflected in Hobbes' eyes, if even just for a fleeting moment.
*****
If yesterday, being the best day he'd had in a long long time, was any indication that nothing in Darien's life stayed good, today was the epitome of that fact. Darien had grown to hate the clock on the wall as the hours ticked by, drawing closer to the event he hated only slightly less than QSM. Unlike QSM where if he was careful he could find ways to avoid it, being milked was something he couldn't get out of. He'd almost rather spend the day as the product of tests than watching and waiting for the time to come.
The day itself had dragged on with nothing in-between, although Darien was pretty sure he had his issue of 'Philosophy Now' completely memorized. When the time at last came he thought about braking the deal if just to show them how much he didn't want to do this, but at the last second thought against it and still favoring his one leg followed betwixt his usual guard escort to lab 2.
Its set up was slightly different from any of the others and restricted for the sole use of 'milking.' With a shiver Darien sat down in the chair like contraption and apprehensively watched as Hobbes locked him in place. This thing had as many straps, if not more, than the coffin like QSM monitor, and made Darien completely immobile. It even had a spot that locked his head in place against a metal backing yet left his neck and lower scalp free. It also wasn't the most comfortable contraption in the world, on more than one occasion Darien's limbs had fallen asleep from a lack of circulation.
Breathing in slowly through tight lungs, Darien closed his eyes, trying to block out what the Keeper and her two lackeys were saying. He just wanted this to be over with, though it didn't seem like he was going to get his wish any time soon.
"Claire, station 2's seizing up again." Ben said. Partially connected to and backing the 'chair' Darien was in was the automated set up, something you might imagine in an automobile assembly line. This was set up to insert a metal needle into the back of Darien's neck in order to drain or milk the quicksilver directly from the gland, and filter it to two near by canisters that would store the quicksilver for travel.
Claire moved over to watch as Ben fiddled with the controls while Mike grabbed a can of WD40 and lubricated the gear in question. Manually moving the controls again, Ben smiled as the mechanical arm jumped back and forth smoothly. "That did it."
"Alright, realign the settings for the program." Claire said, then turning to Mike asked, "Can you go get the QSDR from Lab 5? I want to make sure we get a reading on this batch before it gets shipped out."
Mike nodded and left the lab. Ben looked up at Claire saying, "It's ready. You want me to wait?"
Claire shook her head. "No. Let's do this."
Darien opened his eyes at those words. He couldn't turn his head so he couldn't see them, but he could see Hobbes and the door, and he knew what was coming. He could hear it long before he felt it. The shrill sound the needle made was like knives crawling under his skin.
The door to the lab opened as Mike came back in, and Darien stared with shock and horror through that door. As fait would have it in Darien's book, to his complete abhorrence, Mira and a guard happened to be passing through the hall at exactly the same time. He could see her eyes going wide with pain and fear as she glanced in to see the horror the room contained, to see him in such a chilling predicament.
Darien's heart raced with his rising shame. This was something he had never wished, never thought anyone would ever see. Then the pain of the needle's insertion pierced his skull, only it was unlike any previous milking. Pain exploded in his head like a miniature nova, and Darien screamed a silent scream. Through burning eyes he could see Mira jump forward in alarm only to be held back and have the door slid shut in front of her.
"Retract the needle!" Claire cried out running around to Darien's side in alarm.
Hobbes jumped forward as well, quickly demanding, "What happened?"
"He freaked! Damn it! Ben, get it out!" They worked quickly at unleashing the restrained man and at last the needle released Darien from its hold, but the pain only grew. It ran down his spin with a ferocity that wracked his whole frame, the building pressure in his head and chest growing so hard that he was sure he was going to literally combust.
"Help me turn him over," Claire quickly ordered.
Hobbes watched Darien's eyes glaze over as small beads of quicksilver sprouted from the man's pours only to shed before fully forming. Darien's skin was quickly turning a sickly gray white and his skin was growing as cold as the quicksilver. Hobbes and the Keeper managed to roll Darien onto his side so Claire could get a look at the newly formed hole in Darien's skull. Hobbes cringed as the man let out a small whimper but was otherwise unresponsive.
Claire swore, than taking control of the situation sent her lackeys ahead to prep lab 4 for immediate operation and commandeered Hobbes and his guards to carry Darien directly there. "We need to keep him as level as possible, and someone damn well better make sure that hallway's bloody empty!" She heatedly ordered. Hobbes made a motion to his men, and together they lifted the shaking man as the Keeper directed.
Ben was ready with an anesthetic when they arrived, but Claire waved it off. Ben stared at her in shock. "You've got to be kidding me! You can't still want to-" He dropped what he was going to say with the dangerous look Claire turned on the young scientist.
"Just get me a scalpel," she darkly told him, then turning to Hobbes stated, "I need you and your men to hold him down on his side for me."
Hobbes wanted to tell her he didn't think the kid had enough strength to move, but didn't dispute, and grimly wrapped his arms around Darien's shaking frame. Surprised filtered across Hobbes' face as Darien's hands clutched at his supporting arm in a vise grip, yet one look at the man told Hobbes the kid wasn't reading anything externally anymore.
Darien's memory jumped invariantly with his mind as he was consumed by the agony. He could remember the hands lifting him, could remember the heat of the metal table as it burned his frozen skin. He remembered screaming, this time able to give voice, as the knife blade bit into raw flesh and a second nova exploded in reaction twice as bad as the first one. He didn't remember much after that, and it was a long time before he rose from the depth of his murky state to a temporary awareness.
He was still cold, still shaking, and still on the operating table, and he hurt, really hurt, he couldn't feel half of anything, the pain was so bad it was deadening his senses, but somewhere in his mind he knew the worst of it was over, at least for now.
He could feel something being pressed to his lips, a straw, and he thought he was being urged to drink. Blinking furiously, Darien tried to focus, tried to see what it was, but a gray fog was covering his vision and he finally just breathed in. The taste was horrible, and his mind connected it to the protein drinks he had been made to drink every day of his new life. In vain, Darien tried to move and the attempt sent his senses off into another spin.
Sometime later he rose from the murky pool once again. Things seemed a little bit clearer this time, and when he was bade to drink he could make out the cup with the straw and the hand that held it in place. The liquid was dark, different, but Darien could see Hobbes' face come into view as the man bent down and felt the warm hand on his cold shoulder as the man bade him again to drink.
Doing so, Darien was mildly surprised to find the liquid somewhat sweet, almost familiar. Hobbes told him it was coke, then told him to sleep. Darien couldn't fight it, and let himself drift off once again, the pain following him there, but numbing just that little bit more.
*****
Claire walked into her office with a lengthy sigh. She looked down at her now bloodied clothes with a grimace and walking over to her duffel bag behind her desk began rummaging around for a clean shirt and pants.
"I take it things are going well again?"
Claire spun around to find a man standing a couple feet from her closed door, his hands hanging clasped in from of him with a very neutral expression on his face.
"Eberts," She said startled, then glowering slightly, demanded, "What are you doing in here?"
"He felt it best that I come assess the situation personally," Eberts said, stressing the 'he' ever so slightly.
Making a face, Claire pulled her bag onto her desk and told him, "Well, you can tell him that QSTS1 is just fine now."
Eberts stepped towards her, his neutral expression not wavering any as he commented, "We needed that shipment."
Claire sighed, the day had turned far longer than she had planned, it had been hours since the incident and frankly, she was tired. "Give me a day and I'll synthesize a batch of quicksilver for you."
"You know it doesn't hold its integrity nearly long enough for our purposes," Eberts automatically disputed.
Glowering with exasperation she stated with a thin smile, "Alright, fine. But I can guarantee it'd be the last batch you'll ever get because there's no way he'd survive a milking right now!"
The man blinked stunned and unconsciously lowered his gaze somewhat, saying, "No, that's fine. I'll tell him."
"Thank you," Claire grumbled out, then sighed again, realizing her temper was running high and thin. "If you don't mind, I need to change and I've things to do." She made a face when he didn't immediately leave.
"What? Oh, sorry," Eberts said and opened the door to leave but turned at the last second a hint of concern lighting his normally expressionless face. "I noticed you refrained from any anesthetics. Does this mean you plan to continue with tomorrow's experiment?"
"Yes." Claire replied evenly. The man nodded and shut the door behind him. Claire stared at the door for a few minutes deep in thought. She wondered briefly if it was really worth doing. No, she knew it was worth doing, she'd been waiting for an opportunity like this for several months now, but with today's accident, was it worth the risk, not to mention she wasn't so sure if Darien would even be willing anymore. That was the challenge.
Snapping herself out of her thoughts the Keeper switched clothes and made for the cot in the back room to catch a few hours of sleep as her mind lulled over her current problem. Claire knew she didn't want to wait, and her mind could find only one feasible solution.
*****
When Darien woke next it was in his own bed. He stared at the wall, unable to roll over to see if he was alone in the room or not, but as he strained his ears all he could make out was the ticking of the clock. Despite the extra blankets that covered him, Darien shivered against the cold that still engulfed him and he tried to curl into a tighter ball seeking warmth. Pain washed through him like a flood and he held his breath waiting for it to die down before he tried to move again.
After some time Darien gritted his teeth and forced himself to reach back to feel the squared bandaged at the back of his neck. A small part of him wondered if they'd taken it out, yet as he touched the bandage and his body reacted, he could tell the gland was still there. He'd lived far too long with that thing not to know what it felt like.
Letting out a shaky sigh, Darien finally left it alone and returned to just staring at the white wall. Several hours went by in a deathly stillness, the steady noise of the clock becoming a constant drone that was becoming worse than the empty silence that used to inhabit the room. Darien was trying hard to focus on anything but what he was feeling and had taken to counting the ticks as they went by. It was working, sort of.
The seemingly loud click of his door interrupted him and Darien futilely tried to turn to see who it was, regretting the small attempt immediately. Letting out a small groan, he lay where he was and tried instead to just listen.
He could hear the shuffle as someone entered, a light walk, irregular steps as they came hesitantly into the room, then Mira's voice quietly called to him, "Darien?"
"Go away." Darien told her in a voice ruff from ill use and constriction.
"I-" She began still hesitant, then mournfully told him, "I can't." Darien didn't respond. He could think of only one reason why she was there, and that would be if they thought they could use her. And the only thing she could be useful for right now would be if they still needed something from him. Tears of anger began to cloud his vision of the wall and Darien furious blinked them away. "Darien?" Mira asked again, her voice a little closer.
"No Mira," Darien told her with a thick voice, hearing her stop her approach. "I won't let them use you."
"It's too late." He could the resignation in her voice, hear the deep sadness that filled her even as if filled him and he felt fresh tears sting his eyes. "They told me about the gland," she told him subdued.
Darien fears were confirmed with those words and he closed his eyes shut against it, his anger falling away to hopelessness. She called his name again, but Darien didn't answer. He just stayed in his internal world, savoring the physical pains over the emotional sorrow that threatened him. He heard her sigh softly, could hear her cross the room to sit against the wall opposite him to wait. Then he heard something that pulled him out of his forsaken thoughts. The soft sweet sounds of...a guitar? He hadn't realized she'd brought it in with her, but she must have, and he listened almost reverently as she quietly plucked out several chords before her hands fell silent.
Darien breathed out an anxious breath. "Music."
His voice was barely a whisper, but with nothing to obstruct the noise, Mira heard it and softly replied, "More like fiddling. But to you, I guess any sound is music." She paused, then with a voice full of emotion said, "Darien I'm sorry."
Darien frowned confused. "Why? You didn't do this." He suddenly wanted to turn over, to see her. He could hear her get up and walk over.
"When I saw you, I just...I'm sorry." Mira said again.
She was close enough now that Darien could turn slightly to look up at her, overwhelmed by the guilt in her eyes. "Mira," he whispered. "You didn't do this. I did." She nodded in reply but he could still see the guilt reflected. He was startled when she put her hand on his shoulder a look of shock flooding through her.
"Oh my go- Darien you're so cold!" She exclaimed. Mira reacted instantly, sliding in beside him, her arms circling him as she tried to lend him her warmth.
Darien was surprised by her sudden intimacy, but at the same time found it gratifying in more ways than one. He could feel her heat on his back like the warmth of a hot sun, and he soon found himself sinking comfortably into that warmth. "Thank you," he murmured drowsily. Darien felt he could feel her smile and softly smiled in return, the pain was slowly dying away, as was consciousness.
"I'm here with you, Darien," Mira told him softly, and entwined her hand in his, their silver id bracelets clinking softly against each other. She felt his breathing ease, felt the rhythm of his body slow to that of sleep and for a few minutes Mira just lay there. Then softly, as quietly as possible, she began to cry tears she'd restrained since they'd approached her that morning and told her want they wanted her to do.
When Darien woke again, he found he was still in Mira's protective arms. He didn't move for a long time, savoring the embrace, the warmth, listening to her heartbeat against his. He felt more focused now, not so overwhelmed by the pain that blossomed from his head, and he realized with a start that he was no longer cold. Cautiously, taking extreme care, he lifted his free hand experimentally, it didn't hurt so bad, although he felt completely drained of energy, and he soon put his palm down on her hand.
She reacted with a start, automatically pulling her hand from its entwined grasp, but he reached out and caught it in his. "Please," he whispered, feeling her relax against him. He didn't want her to leave now, his gut telling him it would end all too soon as it was.
"Darien," She said, her voice throaty and hesitantly insistent as she asked him, "What happened to you? What brought you here, in you own words."
From the way she said it Darien guessed they'd told her more than just that he had a gland. So he told her, oddly finding relief to be able to finally say it out loud. "I was a thief. Got caught on a third strike and my brother asked me to sign on for an experiment in exchange for a pardon."
"And he's..?" she quietly asked when he paused.
"He's dead," Darien numbly replied, then continued. "I don't think he knew this would happen, that it'd turn out like this. He was always trying to look at the bigger picture, never the reality of it. It was his pursuit of science that blinded him, and got him killed."
Darien stopped again, his throat tightening as memories he'd thought he'd buried long ago surfaced. He could see it in his mind as if it'd happened only a day before. The stark hallway at the compound with metal ribbing, and Kevin, his brother, as he shoved Darien behind that ribbing, taking the brunt of the terrorist's attack in the chest. Darien felt tears roll down his nose and sniffed back the threatening flood as he felt Mira's hand squeeze his in comfort. He took a breath to steady himself them quietly told her, "There was an attack at the compound we were at. The man my brother trusted the most turned on him. He killed everyone there, destroyed all the data. I was the only thing left of project QS. So they brought me here. To try and recreate what my brother did." Then he bitterly mumbled, "Some pardon, uh?"
"Can they take it out?" Mira asked quietly.
"I don't think so," Darien murmured, realizing that fact himself. "I've heard the Keeper say the gland's integrated itself in my head unlike any other test subject they've had. I think if they take it out they're worried they'll loose me and the gland, which is probably the only reason they haven't yet."
"Don't say that," Mira told him, hugging him slightly, but her voice was strained and he knew she didn't fully believe herself. They were quiet for a few minutes then she asked him, "If they found a way to get it out, would you help them?"
"Is that what they told you to tell me?" Darien asked numbly.
He could feel her tense and she quietly replied, "No."
"But it's why you're here, isn't it? To get me to cooperate?" He guessed, not so appalled by the idea anymore, just resigned to it.
"Yes," she whispered, her voice cracking in guilt.
Darien pulled her hand closer to his chest, telling her with open honesty. "I'm tired of fighting it, Mira. I'm tired of fighting them." He felt her shake slightly, and focusing past all the pain Darien forced himself to finally move. Turning over so that he could face her, Darien reached out a hand and gently brushed away her tears, meeting her sorrow filled eyes with ones of his own, and then he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him.
They laid there in each other's embrace right up until Hobbes came in with his men to take Darien to the next experiment. Unexpectedly, Mira was to go with him, and with mixed feelings Darien allowed himself to be half carried to Lab 5. He didn't like the idea of Mira witnessing the horrors he so often went through, but at the same time was relieved he wasn't alone. They had given her a stool to sit on and as he lay on his side on the table being hooked up to a million sensors, she held his hand in a reassuring grip as much for herself as for him.
They weren't strapping him down this time, and the tone in the room was considerably more hushed than it ever had been. The Keeper and her scientists barely said a word to Darien as they attached the sensor wires and confirmed the subsequent monitors were reading correctly, and when they conversed with each other it was in hushed and nervous voices. Only the Keeper's stern tone seemed to keep them all on track. Darien looked at the door nervous, even his usual guards seemed agitated, although they had their gun holstered instead of out. Hobbes was leaning against the wall, watching Darien with silent eyes, a small glimmer of deep thought reflecting out to him.
The whole place felt unnatural, even to him, and Darien shuddered slightly, feeling Mira shiver in response. Then the Keeper walked over, her usual calm voice telling him simply. "This is going to hurt."
Darien couldn't see what she was doing, but he could feel it, and holding his breath in preparation, he felt her pull off the bandage from his neck and probe the raw area. He managed to bite back his outcry as the gland protested, and then the pain faded back to its usual amount. Claire pursed her lips in thought for a minute, but nodding up to Mike, indicated for him to move the last of the monitor's into place. It was an interesting piece of machinery, unlike anything Darien had seen before and it reached over his head like a roof as Mike rolled it into place.
They attached a couple more sensors, this time to his head, making his sprouts of hair clump together like a furry porcupine. "Alright, I think we're ready," Mike told her releasing a nervous breath.
She nodded, then said, "Darien. Here's what I need you to do for me. I'm going to ask you to quicksilver various areas of your body. Each time I want you to count to five and then cut the flow. Will you do this?"
Darien nodded. The first thing she asked him to quicksilver was his left leg. It took him a few minutes to concentrate enough to attain partial invisibility, and when he finally had it he almost lost it, letting out a gasp as the back of his head began to burn in reaction. His gasp was echoed by Mira's, though for totally different reasons. Darien gritted his teeth against the building pain and at the end of five let the quicksilver shed off him with relief. Looking up his lips curled slightly from the mesmerized look on Mira's face. Not seeing is believing, he mused to himself, then grimaced.
Mira shook herself and smiling shyly down at Darien covered both his hands with hers. The Keeper gave him time between each quicksilvering to semi recover, but pushed forward with the experiment till he'd worked through every part and combination possible. As they worked streams of data began pouring out of the computers and the nervous atmosphere between the scientists began to change back to the more familiar excitement.
Ben stared open eyed at the streamline of data, working it through quick computer models as they went. "This is amazing," he murmured, attracting the attention of his two coworkers.
Claire stared at the screen for a few minutes before saying, "Run those numbers through model QS94." Ben and Mike looked at her startled, but the younger scientist did as he was ordered and bringing up the simulation on an alternate screen plugged in the appropriate data. To the average person, staring at the flux of diagrams in one corner, the stream of raw data in another and what seemed like the aligning of two genetic codes below it would never correlate. Yet the scientists watched as the computer ran through its mock simulation and came out with a 99% accurate rate of results in a state of growing excitement.
"Oh my gosh," Ben murmured in shock. "How is this possible? We've run countless LR's through this simulation, none of them came out even close to this!"
"Maybe it's because of the damage to the gland," Mike suggested. "It could be overcompensating."
"What ever it is, we've the time to figure it out, later." Claire said clinically, pushing her coworkers from the screen. "We've obtained all the data we can for today, I want the both of you to go to Lab 3 and make sure the data transferred correctly. Then begin running though all the modules, starting with QS1. We're going to do this proper." She stated tartly. Claire waited for the door to shut behind them before she turned a meaningful look on Hobbes.
Mira's tenseness was the first clue Darien had that something was up, and he twisted his head to see Hobbes exchange some kind of silent communication with the Keeper. The man then turned to his men at the door and to Darien surprise he ordered them out of the room. They looked surprised by the order as well, but with a stern look from their boss quickly covered it up and retreated.
Feeling alarmed, Darien tried to push himself up, but Hobbes was quick to push him back down. "Just hang on there, buddy." Hobbes turned to Mira then and said, "Help me get these things off of him."
"What's going on?" Mira asked for the both of them. Hobbes didn't reply, but pushing the monitor back worked quickly at plucking the sensors glued to Darien. Mira exchanged nervous looks with Darien and working one handed held tightly to Darien with the other. As they peeled the last off, the Keeper walked over to them, a needle filled with a dark purple liquid in hand. Darien tensed at the sight, and he felt the chills sweep through him with nervous anxiety, yet the expressions on the Keeper's and Hobbes' face arrested his thoughts of flight.
With a grim look, Hobbes regarded the Keeper, asking quietly, "Are you sure this is going to work?"
Claire looked from the scared subjects before her to the steady expression of the man beside her, her own mind wondering that same question. But she'd seen the numbers, she knew what it meant, and she calmly stated, "It's now or never Bobby."
The man nodded then turning to address Darien told him, his eyes abnormally filled with sympathy. "You've never trusted us, kid. You've never had a reason to. But if you do this one last thing, I promise you now things are going to turn out fine. And Bobby Hobbes doesn't brake his promises."
Darien regarded him for a minute, regarding the slightly subdued look on the Keeper, and then the intimidating needle in her hand. His mind raced through all the possibilities, but he knew for them to be acting like this there had to be only one place they intended to put it. Then he looked at Mira, felt her fear, felt his own, but she smiled at him anyway and whispered, "I'm here with you."
He nodded then, to her, and then to the others. The Keeper prepped the needle then told him seriously. "I'm going to inject this into the gland, but once I put the needle in, I need you to quicksilver your whole body, as well as the needle and my hands. Do you understand?"
"I, I don't know if I can." Darien replied honestly, he was already exhausted from the tests.
"You have to do it, Darien." Claire told him soberly. Then bending down and finding the spot she inserted the needle.
Darien hissed sharply, the nova that resulted from the intrusion was as bad as it had been the day before and it quickly began to overtake all his senses. Yet somehow, through the swarm, he felt Mira's grip, and using it like an anchor focused his mind to ignore the pain, to concentrate. Slowly, with an outcry of frustration and hurt, he was able to evoke the rush of quicksilver. Instead of the usual cold feel it had, the quicksilver was like molten lava as it surged through his veins and bled from his pours, but Darien pushed it on till his heart was pounding loud and fast in his ears.
Focusing even harder he convinced the quicksilver to spread, and soon it was covering anything within contact of his body, the table, Mira's clutching hand, and the needle. Maybe it wasn't what the Keeper had wanted, but it was the best she was going to get and Darien knew he'd accomplished his given task as he felt the ice of the substance injected into his head, into the gland itself.
With a strangled cry the quicksilver shed, and Darien let out a blood-curdling scream before falling deathly still. Mira sucked in a sob, staring up at them in horror. "What did...what did you do?!"
Claire put the needle aside and quickly checked Darien's pulse. Its beat was strong, twice the speed it normally was. Lifting an eyelid she found the whites of his eyes slowly turning to red, yet when she checked the snake, the tattoo was actually fading to green. She smiled reassuringly at the fretting woman, telling her, "It's alright, Mira. He'll be just fine, he just needs to sleep this off." Then the Keeper looked at Hobbes and told him relieved, "It's working. I've got to go to lab 3. Make sure that no one, and I mean no one, comes in here."
"Don't worry Keepie. I've got this covered." Hobbes told her, and on her heels spoke to his men just out side the door before coming back in. Seeing the angry and fearful look on Mira's face Hobbes walked over, looking down a the unconscious man with sober eyes and murmuring, "Trust us."
When Darien regained consciousness, the pain was gone, only a numbness remained, and something else, something he couldn't explain. He breathed in deeply, getting a nose full of hair and opening his eyes realized Mira had her head resting down on the table next to him. His hand reached tiredly up to stroke her hair getting her attention.
She turned murmuring, "Darien?" But when she saw his eyes she gasped in shock and fear.
"What is it?" Darien asked worried.
"Your eyes are red," she breathed out. That got Hobbes' attention and the man quickly came over even as Darien's blood ran cold. Red? He was quicksilver mad? He jerked back away from Mira, afraid for her life. "Darien?" She questioned hesitantly.
"Get back," he told her urgently, sitting up. Then Hobbes was there, grabbing his wrists and turning them over as he steadily watched the frightened man. The snake was still green, only the barest hint of red at it's tail, but Hobbes didn't immediately back down.
"How do you feel, pal?" He asked Darien.
Blinking back in confusion, Darien finally relaxed enough to think about it. He didn't feel like he normally did under the QSM's influence. In fact, he felt nothing of the usual pain or rage that should be fueling him. "I'm, I'm alright," he murmured, the realization sunk in. Hobbes nodded and released him. Numbly, Darien reached back to feel the wound on his neck. It still hurt, even more so when he touched it, but it wasn't like it had been, nothing was like it had been.
Confused, he was about to ask Hobbes what was going on when a loud explosion quite suddenly shook the whole room as it reverberated down through the hall and exploded up the elevator for release. Black smoke billowed in through the ceiling vents, the covers blowing inward as machinery and equipment fell crashing to the floor.
Darien stumbled off the table, clutching at Mira's and Hobbes' reaching hands as the table jerked about, the force of the shaking pulling it loose of its bolts. "What the hell was that?" Darien gasped out.
"Stay here," Hobbes ordered and moved over to put a hand experimentally on the door, but immediately retracted it with a hiss. He was heading back to them when suddenly another explosion shook the room and the door flew inward a billow of smoke and debris trailing after it. Hobbes had his gun out and was automatically firing into the smoky black hallway.
Darien didn't think anything could possibly be inside the infernal, and was surprised when there was a responding return fire. He pulled Mira back with him protectively against the far wall and they watched in horror as bullets caught Hobbes in his shoulder and midsection. The man went down still shooting but fell limp a second later. Darien could see the blood pooling darkly beneath him, and he closed his eyes against the sight hugging Mira to his chest, her terror melding with his own. What the hell was going on? He frantically thought.
Blinking his eyes against the sting of the smoke, Darien stared through the blackened entrance into the hallway beyond. As his eyes focused, he watched as a man in a thick helmet and suit walked into the room, a gun raised and pointed at them. Darien felt Mira go tense and squeezing her arm reassuringly, they awaited their doom.
The suited man eyed the two subjects but moved first to Hobbes' prone body, kicking it lightly with a boot though no movement followed. Then the suited man removed his helmet to reveal the manacle expression of Henderson. Mira openly gasped in shock.
The scientist ignored her, his dark eyes trained upon Darien, only a little taken back by the red gleam in Darien's eyes as Henderson venomously bit out. "So, all this for you, is it?" The man had his gun raised as he approached to the two captives, a sadistic and slightly crazed gleam entering the man's eyes. "Well, here it ends."
There wasn't enough time for Darien to react as Henderson pulled the trigger, but Darien's blood ran cold as he realized with shock and horror that the bullet wasn't meant for him. He felt Mira's body go taunt and then limp in his arms, and she looked up at him, that breathless look of terror in her eyes as she felt life literally slipping away.
Darien fell with her to the ground. "No, Mira, look at me," Darien breathed out, his breath shortening as the panic flooded him and his memories blended with the present. He couldn't do this, not again.
"Darien," she whispered, blood trickling out her mouth, and then she went still, the life in her eyes fading from sight, leaving behind mere vacant spheres.
Darien hugged her still body to him, fighting back the flood of tears as the all too familiar rage suddenly began to build. Darien glared up at Henderson with bloodthirsty eyes. "Why?" He ground out.
Henderson shrugged coldly. "Her project was terminated anyway. Yours on the other hand," his face contorted into a scowl. "What was so special about you, anyway?"
Darien felt his blood pumping through him, and smiling up at the man with a sudden sadistic grin, he breathed out dangerously, "You wanna see?"
Henderson stepped back in shock as he watched the man before him suddenly disappear from sight and with a gasp felt the icy hands circle like a vise around his throat as an unseen force knocked him to the ground. Henderson was still a fairly large man and so instinctually rolled with the guy, but after a few unforeseen punches and kicks the scientist knew all at once what Hobbes' security was for. Gasping for what he was sure were his final breaths, he stared open mouthed as silver flaked about him and he was left facing the red eyed demon on the doorstep of hell. Then suddenly the man's red eyes rolled up and he fell forward unconscious. Henderson quickly shoved the man off of him, sitting up to find the reason for Darien's sudden collapse.
Another man in a suit like Henderson's tucked another dart into place before removing his helmet. The guy made a face at Henderson and with a thick accent remarked, "I warned you to be careful Henderson."
"Arnaud," Henderson growled out as he got up. "You never said he could go invisible!"
Arnaud just shrugged.
*****
The Keeper pushed against the collapsed mainframes that surrounded her, coughing in the thick air as she did. Her body felt bruised from the collapse, but she didn't think anything was broken, and after several attempts she finally managed to get herself free. Looking around in despair at the half-burnt lab, she spotted the bodies of her colleagues and quickly had to turn away.
Carefully picking her way through the mess, she moved out into the blackened hallway. The panels were burnt to a crisp and half falling to the ground in crumbles. She could literally see the wave the explosion had taken, and fearing she might be the only survivor made her way quickly to lab 5. The door was open, blown across the room, and Claire's eyes immediately spotted Hobbes where he lay.
Rushing over she felt for a pulse amazed when she felt the strong beat beneath her fingers. He'd lost a lot of blood, but his clothes had managed to clog the two wounds. The shoulder wasn't so bad, and the bullet that went through his midsection seemed to have missed anything vital.
To her surprise, Hobbes rose to consciousness at her touch, and letting out a groan he whispered looking up at her, "Claire?"
"Yes Bobby, it's me. You're lucky to be alive."
"Damn lucky," he agreed. Then against her protests pushed himself up. She forced him to be still at least until she could find something clean to wrap him up with. It'd do them no good if he lost even more blood. "Where's the kid?" Hobbes asked insistently as he cringed from the Keeper's attentiveness.
Claire had seen Mira's prone body while finding the bandages, but she'd known without checking that the girl was dead. She'd also found Darien's id bracelet laying open on the floor and now handed it to Bobby. "He's gone."
Hobbes turned the object over a couple times in his hands before stating, "Someone had a key."
Claire nodded, then noticed Bobby's look towards the corner and told him, "Mira's dead."
"Damn!" Bobby cursed, and grudgingly admitted to himself, "The kid was right, everyone on the QS project does die."
The Keeper frowned at Hobbes, "In the state Darien's in...Bobby, I have no idea what he's going to do."
"Then I guess that means we'll just have to find him." Hobbes stated determined. With the Keeper's help he managed to get himself to his feet and ruefully Bobby looked around at their predicament. "That is, once we find a way out of here."
*****
Darien came awake with a jerk, his body snapping to attention in the lightweight cot as every nerve in his body seemed to panic at exactly the same moment. Eternity stretched in that second and Darien found himself rendered immobile by the all-consuming sensation that besieged him, laid helpless to its terror. His senses tore between two realities, one that amplified the slightest touch, sound, light, anything, till they became him. The other laid an unexplainable coating on everything within and without like a blanket of invisible threads that vibrated with an overwhelming constancy.
Ridged, betwixt a breathless scream, suddenly it was gone and Darien sagged helpless on the thin mattress. It was such a change that it took him several minutes to become just the slightest bit aware of his surroundings, yet even then the strange occurrence left him feeling numb, as if his entire body had fallen asleep. Breathing in slowly Darien blinked, focusing on the white ceiling that stared back at him.
His first thought was that he was back at the compound, back in his room and that he'd just had a worse dream than normal, but the longer he stared at the white panels the more he knew they weren't the same ones.
Unbidden he felt his eyes begin to tear as his memories reasserted themselves in his mind and Darien vainly wished they would be as numb as his body felt. Closing his eyes he squeezed out the moister, trying to forget what all had happened. He just wanted to pretend it was just another day, he was just another experiment, but his mind refused to settle on any sense of mundane and Darien soon gave up, relenting to the torment that filled his head.
With a quiet sob he let the hot tears fall down the sides of his face unchecked, his thoughts revolving from self-pity to true remorse to guilt in a second's breath. So consumed by the haunting memories Darien never even noticed as the hot tears turned to ice and froze upon the hairs at his temples. After several long minutes he finally felt his mind begin to settle to its fait, and a void of thought protectively covered his emotions, submerging the memories to be reopened at a later date. Breathing in a shaky breath but feeling that he had regained at least some control, Darien opened his eyes only to find himself staring out through quicksilver.
With a half sob half gasp of shock Darien quickly tried to pull himself up on his elbows, his melancholy momentarily forgotten, but his arms refuse to hold him and he painfully fell back. It was enough to startle him from his thoughts so that the quicksilver shed from his eyes, returning his vision to normal. That was when he noticed the sharp stinging in his left hand as it surged up through his arm. With clumsy fingers, Darien reached over and grabbing the IV needle yanked it out with a hiss. A tsunami of pins and needles flooded his numb body, but then faded away to leave him with slightly more feeling than before, and for the first time Darien looked around his new confines.
The walls were white, the door was white with no handle, and two black cameras were in the corners facing him, but that was about all that was the same as he usual white room. The metal stand and monitor for the IV sat next to the head of the bed, and in the corner was a toilet, sink, and mirror, hell, even a towel rack was mounted on the wall, a small white towel hanging off the bar.
With a small struggle, Darien forced himself to sit up, finding himself still in simple whites, though these were slightly different, short sleeves instead of long, leaving his bare arms to reveal the purple and yellowing striped bruises. The pants were slightly too short as well, giving him the thought that they'd gotten the cloths at a local hospital or something.
He absently rubbed his wrist where the bracelet used to reside, and looking around the room again, Darien realized with a start that these people, no, Henderson, really must know little about him. Almost immediately hope surged in his veins and he looked anxiously to the door, the desire for escape magnified tenfold.
Sliding his feet off the bed Darien got up, his focused mind ignoring the twanging sensation that leapt through his legs till they finally just quit and he crumpled to the floor. "Oh, that was smooth," Darien grumbled to himself, but it was enough to force him to think about what he was doing. He couldn't just blindly take off, he reasoned to himself, Hobbes would be coming for him anyway. No wait, Hobbes was dead. Darien quickly shoved that thought away but faced the reality that those at the compound 'would' be coming after him. He needed a plan.
Laying quietly on the floor Darien let his mind travel over all the possibilities, deciding that he was this close to freedom, there was no way he was going to mess it up by getting over excited.
When he felt satisfied he'd thought of all contingencies he could account for, Darien finally moved from his spot, grabbing the IV stand to help pull himself to his feet. That was one thing he'd realized in his plans, there was going to be only a limited time for him to regain any strength, which meant he had to take it as easy as possible.
Feeling strangely encouraged because of his plan, Darien headed for the sink, his eyes attracted to the mirror like a magnet, but when he looked at his reflection, even knowing what to expect, he couldn't hold back the gasp that escaped his lips. Staring back at him were a pair of blood red eyes, his red eyes.
Confused, Darien minutely inspected them, along with every other part her could see, plucking mournfully at the shaggy mop of hair that fell about his face. Frowning, Darien looked down at the tattoo, but it showed only the barest tip of red at the tail, less than what it had been in the lab. Was it broken? Was he Quicksilver Mad? He looked back at the mirror, mesmerized by his image as he thought it over. He didn't feel like he was QSM, like before, he felt normal, but unless Henderson has counteragent then he should at the least be well along the way to QSM. Which meant it had to be what ever had been in that needle the Keeper had stuck in him. What was it Hobbes had said? That he should trust them? Ya, right! He thought sourly to himself.
Shaking his head he held out a hand and experimentally tried to quicksilver it. It wasn't easy, Darien felt like he was pushing against a wall the entire time and even after his arm vanished from sight Darien was only able to hold it like that for a few seconds. With a sigh of mixed emotions, Darien exhaustedly turned back to the bed. Right now, all that there was for him to do was wait, but waiting he understood, and the thought that this time he wouldn't have wait so long fueled him with growing passion.
*****
Huiclov stood outside the door to the main lab feeling nervous. He was about to go inside, but hesitated and instead pulled out a bottle of Pepto-Bismol swallowing a couple gulps of the pink stuff before sliding it back into his jacket pocket. He took a breath to calm his nervous and mentally shaking himself pushed open the door, preparing for the worst.
Two men were inside. Henderson, who seemed more to be pacing the room rather than actually doing anything, while the other, Huiclov's brother, Arnaud, sat working between two microscopes and looking more than a little irritated.
Arnaud glanced up at Huiclov, prepared to give him a curt greeting but a look at Huiclov's nervous expression put the slide in his hands down and turned his full attention on his brother. "What is it?" Arnaud practically growled out.
Henderson stopped and turned to Huiclov as well, his face contorting in a scowl as he snapped out arrogantly, "Can't you see we're busy here?"
Glancing over at the other scientist with thinning lips, Arnaud evenly questioned his brother, "Well?"
"He's awake," was all Huiclov managed to say.
"What?!" Henderson exclaimed, his vanity sliding somewhat to fear. Henderson turned inflamed eyes on Arnaud. "You said he wouldn't wake up! You said that we could just take the gland out, but we can't! And now we've got a-"
"Oh shut up!" Arnaud finally snapped, cutting the man off. Surprisingly, Henderson shut his mouth, half-turning away to find something else to occupy him although he continued to complain if a bit colorfully under his breath.
Huiclov watch in cringing anticipation as Arnaud's lips thinned even tighter towards the scientist, but letting out a slow breath instead he told Huiclov, "Put a couple more guards outside his room, and make sure that door doesn't open for *any* reason endless I say so, got it?"
Nodding, Huiclov made his quick retreat, waiting till he was out in the hall and well away from the lab before releasing the breath he hadn't consciously held. Still, he had to pause and listen, perhaps out of the simple knowledge of what was sure to come next, or maybe out of a perverse curiosity, he wasn't sure. A few minutes later there was the muffled sound of a gunshot from down the hall and Huiclov reactively flinched. Yet even as he shook his head and quietly swore, he found he didn't feel quite as much sympathy as he normally would for the poor bastard. It'd been a long three days.
*****
The explosion that had gutted the lower levels of the compound had retroactively damaged a large portion of the upper levels as well, to the point that the more sensitive operations were still being vacated to another location.
Bobby sat on the table inside one of the large tents that had been set up around the compound's exterior for the use of housing equipment and personal as they slowly emptied the building for transportation. This tent along with two others, were separated from the main group for the sole purpose of the QS team as they salvaged what they could.
Staring out the slightly open tent flap into the desert distance, Bobby grimaced, his hand unconsciously moving to his stomach. The Keeper looked up at him from the papers she was scanning and frowning commented, "You really should be in a hospital, Bobby."
"Negative," Bobby automatically replied not looking at her. "He's still out there."
Claire shook her head knowing there was no way of arguing with the man and went back to her work. She had convinced them of the necessity of transforming the tent into a makeshift lab with the excuse that she'd need to make counteragent to administer to QSTS1 when they found him, and she had, but she was more concerned with recreating the catalyst she had used three days earlier. Currently, the purple liquid and a batch of counteragent were both being distilled and combined through a drip set up.
Bobby slid down off the table, still gazing out the tent. "Company. It's the Boss." He told her calmly.
Submerging her sudden rise of panic, Claire needlessly switched papers and shifted positions before the tent opened wider and an overweight man in a suit entered.
Bobby had his arms crossed as he formally greeted the man, "I didn't expect to see you here, sir."
"Um," the large man grumbled, responding, "I wanted to see your progress in reacquiring QSTS1 personally. Getting him back is our top priority!"
Hobbes nodded. "Yes sir, I understand. My team was able to recover the system that tracks QSTS1's transponder, but it was slightly damaged, we're working on fixing it now."
"I want him back Hobbes!" The fat man sternly told him. Then he turned to the Keeper and questioned, "How long before he goes into QSM?"
Claire looked up from the papers she wasn't really reading and evenly replied, not technically lying, "I gave him a shot three days ago. If he's careful we have another three days."
Their Boss nodded, his lips thinning as he stated, "Three days Hobbes!" Then to their intense relief he left deciding they worked better left alone to the job.
After a few minutes the two finally relaxed somewhat, Claire quickly grabbing up the old papers as Hobbes turned sober eyes upon her and quietly asked, "How much time do we really have?"
She shook her head worried. "I'm not sure. He should already be feeling the changes, and there's no telling what side effects any foreign drugs introduced to his system might cause..."
"Keeper, I need a time frame!" Hobbes insisted.
She shrugged helpless. "According to the model, two days, tops. After that we'll loose him."
Hobbes silently cursed, angrily hitting the table in frustration as he turned to lean against it. Claire watched him worried, then hesitantly voiced the thought they'd both been avoiding. "He could be dead already. We don't know what Henderson planned to do with Darien."
Lips pursing in thought, Hobbes quietly stated, "The kid's not dead."
A second later one of the guard's appeared at the door to the tent. "Sir, there's-" He didn't get a chance to speak as Eberts rushed in past him and laying his laptop on the table quickly opened it up.
"Eberts," Hobbes growled out, highly disliking the intrusion, but Eberts was already talking.
"I got it working, had to replace the northbridge and stack on a new CPU, plus some of the ram was damaged and the power source completely fried-"
"Eberts!" Claire exclaimed but came around to see in interest.
"There," Eberts motioned to the screen. "He's in northern Mexico."
"Mexico," Claire frowned. "I know Henderson, there's no way he has any contacts in Mexico."
"De Phone." Hobbes suddenly stated with a glower.
"Arnaud De Fehrn?" Claire questioned, remembering the name from the reports she'd read when she was first brought on the team.
Hobbes nodded. "He's the only other person who would know about Darien or the QS project." Eberts looked ready to go into one of his background reports of Arnaud, but Hobbes cut him off with a question, "This computer is the only one that can track the transponder?"
"Ah, yes."
"Good." Hobbes stated and closing it picked it up and left, saying over his shoulder, "We leave in an hour, Keeper."
A pained expression crossed Eberts' face but getting nothing but a shrug from Keeper, left, no doubt to go update the Boss.
Moving back to the drip, Claire was pleased to see it was almost done, although part of her worried if they'd be too late.
*****
Darien sat on the floor with his back against the wall so he could face the door. He'd been awake for sometime now and was a little surprised that no one had come in yet. He was beginning to wonder just how long he'd been awake, let alone here, for his stomach had taken up a hollow grumbling that made him feel more sick than hungry.
It had taken some time for him to regain any strength, and he had been careful to keep his movements small, more to stretch out than to move. In the time that had passed, almost two full segments of the snake had turned red, which in and of itself Darien knew was too fast. Yet every time he checked the mirror the red eyes stared back and there was still that slight tingling sensation in his limbs when he moved.
He didn't know what was happening to him, but the larger part of him really didn't care, he'd figure it out later, when it was just him and no one around to poke and prod him anymore.
With a sigh, he laid his head back against the wall, closing his eyes to relax. He opened them a second later as the door to his room finally swung open.
A thin, medium built man walked in with a smirk. Darien frowned startled at who he saw. "Arnaud De Theil?"
"De Fehrn, Actually," Arnaud told him.
Darien's frown deepened. "Hairdryer?"
Scowling Arnaud quirked, "Still the wise ass I see."
Darien shrugged. "I've got to do something in my spare time." His plan was quickly readjusting itself in his mind. "Where's Henderson?" He asked casually.
Arnaud's smirk returned and he candidly stated, "Henderson had to leave."
Darien wasn't sure exactly what that meant, but he could give a guess, and suddenly feeling a bit worried shifted, slowly rising to his feet. He could feel Arnaud's eyes watching him carefully though the man didn't react and Darien realized in that moment that he needed to reassess his situation. "What do you want with me, Arnaud?" Darien asked him darkly. He felt a sudden rise in temperature as if the room had suddenly grown twenty degrees hotter and was surprised as the thought of attacking the man before him suddenly plagued his mind. Mentally giving himself a shake he admonished himself for the intrude and focused on the plan, he had to stick to the plan.
Eyes narrowed in suspicion, Darien could see Arnaud regarding him as if he could see the struggle that had just occurred in Darien's mind. Then Arnaud relaxed a little and lips curling in a condescending smile he told Darien smoothly, "You? I could care less about you, really. You're not your brother. It's the gland I want."
Darien wasn't surprised, the gland was all anyone really cared about. "Then why haven't you just taken it out?" He asked, once again fighting the overwhelming urge to jump the smaller man. His palms sought the cold of the wall for support, and he forced himself to breathe slower, deeper.
At this Arnaud made a face and scowled again. "I would have," he told Darien honestly, then growled out, "but your friends seem to have changed it in my absence. I need to know what they did."
Darien laughed, a harsh bitter laugh. He wasn't sure what to be more surprised at, that Arnaud would call Darien's long time wardens friends, or that he actually thought they would tell him what they did. "You've got to be kidding me, right? You think I know?" Darien exclaimed.
Swearing, Arnaud turned to leave but before he could Darien loudly stated, "They're coming for me, you know!"
Turning back Arnaud smiled. "I don't think so. We removed your ID tag before we left."
Laughing again Darien sneered at the man, "Please. You think they'd have me for that long without taking extra precautions?"
Arnaud's faced darkened considerably and he stood there for several minutes sizing Darien up trying to decide if he was telling the truth. Darien just returned the gaze, openly staring at the man with a growing hatred. It was becoming harder and harder to suppress his carnal desires. At last Arnaud snapped at him. "Where is it?"
Darien shook his head, "I don't know. But I'm sure it'd show up on an x-ray." From the look on Arnaud's face, Darien briefly wondered if saying that was a bit much, but he needed to find the tracer just as much as Arnaud did.
Swearing, Arnaud motioned to the door and three guards stepped in, guns at their waists and tazers in their hands. Darien immediately flattened himself against the wall, his body going tense in fear as he venomously watched the guards approach. "Go invisible and they'll open fire," Arnaud told him darkly, grumbling out, "gland be damn!"
At the moment, Darien didn't doubt it, and using all his will he suppressed the fear and rage and obediently followed where the guards directed. He was led to a room and strapped down to a table where he could be x-rayed but the straps were just a think nylon, nothing that could really hold him if he froze them. They really didn't know much about him, did they? Darien mused, his hopes of escape rising even higher.
It took some time to complete the x-rays and develop them, but as Darien had hoped they just left him strapped to the table, the guard's relaxing somewhat in the false security. At last Arnaud was putting the slides up along a light board to examine. Darien watched with keen curiosity. That was when the odd thought struck him and he wondered briefly why Arnaud would have a room set up for x-rays like this in the first place. Through the door of an adjoining room he could see what appeared to be an actual surgical operating room. It was like a miniature hospital in here, Darien realized with a start.
"You were right," Arnaud stated frowning at the slides.
"Where is it?" Darien asked.
The man regarded Darien with calculating eyes, a sinister smile creeping up on his face as he moved to the counter pulling out a filled syringe and walked over. "My dear Fawkes. I don't think that's really important for you to know, now, do you?"
Darien eyed the needle and swallowed, this wasn't part of the plan. His panic made quicksilvering a bit easier, but his reaction was still slow enough to give Arnaud enough time to pop the cap and plunge the needle into Darien's arm. The quicksilver shed instantly, and the sedative began to take effect, only the effect wasn't what either man had expected.
Biting off a small scream, Darien arched against the restraints as the burning pain seared his arm, his breath falling short as it then quickly spread to his heart and then back out to the rest of his body. It happened so fast that he barely had time to even register what was happening before the burning turned to searing ice covering him in a frozen blanket.
Arnaud backed up startled as Darien's entire body began to shimmer with liquefying quicksilver that fell to the floor like pools of mercury. A minute later the puddles practically vaporized on the spot leaving Darien gasping for breath, his red eyes wild with pain.
"I didn't think that was supposed to happen," Huiclov breathed out from the door. The other two guards looked at each other and shifted nervously.
Before Arnaud could respond the radios came to life calling for him. Snatching the offered radio from Huiclov's outstretched hand, Arnaud impatiently snapped in the mike, "What is it?!"
"There's a breach in security on the outer perimeter," the voice at the other end nervously replied.
Arnaud looked to the shaking man lying on the table, his face darkening in anger. Pushing the radio back into Huiclov's hands he stated, "Huiclov, watch him! You two, come with me!"
Huiclov quickly stepped out of the way as Arnaud stormed out, the two guards apprehensively following. When the door close, Huiclov pulled out his gun and approached the table, his nerves piqued and curiosity abound. The man was shivering acutely, his lips were blue and a thin layer of frost coated his body. Even the haunting red eyes that turned to him seemed to house a look of cold chill like a glimmer of silver.
"Help me," Darien forced out between frozen lips, pleading. His chest was enflamed with the cold, it hurt to even breath, but the only thought that kept traveling through his mind was that they were here. And he was not going back.
Huiclov's heart went out to the man, and he quickly found himself fighting with his conscience once again. He hated this. Nervously looking from the door to the man he quickly fished around for his medicine.
Darien pushed against his restraints futilely then looking up desperately tried again. "I can't go back, please!"
Sighing, Huiclov realized he was going to be in trouble one way or the other and tucking the bottle and his gun away he began unstrapping Darien.
Sliding off the table Darien practically fell on top of Huiclov in his rush to go. "Easy there friend," Huiclov told him, shivering himself as the cold practically radiated off the man in his arms.
Darien shook his head gasping out, "Can't! Need to go!" Pushing away from Huiclov he forced himself to move to the light board, catching himself on the wall. Blinking hard he stared at the films trying unsuccessfully to spot the tracer.
"It's here," Huiclov stated pointing to a small circular spot that barely showed at the ankle on the film of Darien's right foot.
Darien looked at the man grateful. "Thank you." He whispered swallowing against a hoarse throat.
"You're welcome," Huiclov replied though he sounded more resigned than appreciative. Yet the man surprised Darien even more by pulling Darien's arm around his shoulder and practically carrying him as they walked out. "Come on," Huiclov stated. "Let's get you out of here."
Not really able to protest, Darien was doubly grateful for Huiclov's help as they went through the adjoining room and headed for a different hallway. Darien had been right, the room was an operating room, spotting a tray of surgical utensils on the counter. He grabbed up a scalpel as they passed it and carefully tucked in his pants, hoping it wouldn't cut him, but figuring he probably couldn't feel it at the moment anyway if it did.
Huiclov didn't noticed, but led them down and out through a side door of the amazingly extensive house. The terrain was covered in brush not so unlike the desert ruff outside the compound only a bit greener. Here, Huiclov stopped. "I've got to go back inside, good luck." He said sympathetically.
Darien leaned against the doorframe regarding Huiclov with confusion. The large man's face was a mix between fear and worry, but not worry for Darien. He didn't understand it, but he didn't care, the man had gotten him this far. "Thanks," Darien said, then took off at a stumble into the surrounding foliage.
Watching the man till he was out of sight, Huiclov sighed again and walked back inside. He had only reached the second hall when two men in black appeared around the corner, guns raised and yelling at him to freeze. Huiclov did so, lifting his hands slowly in the air as he was quickly disarmed. "Where is he?" One of them demanded.
"I don't know," Huiclov told them, wondering if they meant his brother or Darien.
*****
Arnaud fired till his clip was empty, smiling satisfied as he heard the fatal grunts of two people. He ducked back behind the wall as one of his own guards fired around the corner, but the man grunted with pain and fell out into the open dead as bullets tore up his chest. Arnaud cursed colorfully and slamming the new clip in place fired a couple warning shots wildly around the corner to keep the Feds from advancing.
Then he heard a familiar voice call out to him from down the hall. "We know you have him Phone! We want him back! You know you're not getting out of here alive this time!"
Smirking Arnaud responded sarcastically, "Monsieur Hobbes! So good of you to visit!" Motioning to the two guards he had left to move up and resume firing, Arnaud quickly slipped back down the hall. If they wanted Fawkes so bad, then he was going to give them Fawkes, in pieces!
Yet when he got to the room he found it empty. "Ingrate brother!" Arnaud growled out as he looked at the table and loosed restraints quickly realizing what had probably happened. Small explosions from the corridor distracted him from his vengeful thoughts and not waiting another second Arnaud took off for the back entrance. He knew when to take his loses and rebuild, and if there was one thing he'd learned in the last couple of years it was that if he had to bide his time, he could. He just hated doing it.
*****
The team swept through the complex like a swarm of locus, but although taking several prisoners, Arnaud slipped through the cracks and it soon became apparent QSTS1 was not there. Worried that Arnaud had taken Darien hostage, Hobbes pulled the laptop out from a bag and put it on the table Darien had been strapped to not so long ago. It took a few minutes, but the satellite was able to give him a ruff idea of the terrain and direction Darien was traveling in.
"They found the transponder," The Keeper stated.
Hobbes turned around to see her pulling down a particular x-ray. "I don't think they had a chance to take it out though," she told him walking over, but looking around the room with some admiration commented, "This place is fascinating. I wonder what he was doing here?"
"You can wonder all you like at some later date, Keeper. We've got a job to do," Hobbes stated gruffly, then tucking the laptop away turned to his waiting men. He had some of them stay behind to secure the place and begin clean up, keeping the rest for the hunt. They'd have to travel on foot for the most part, there was too much foliage for any of the vehicles to travel easily.
*****
Darien hugged himself against the cold as he continued walking. He'd done his best to run as often as possible, but all his legs wanted to do was just collapse, and they had already, on several occasions, but he had to keep going.
Although he could feel the heat of the sun burning his back, Darien continued to shiver. It was as if the chill had settled into his very bones, tarring at his muscles with every motion. He wasn't moving fast, he knew this, and he was sure they'd catch up to him soon.
A root snaking out of the ground snagged his numb feet and with an outcry Darien tumbled once again to the ground, but he didn't readily get up this time. Darien breathed in hard trying to regain his senses, but the fear was climbing and the dread soared through him as much as the cold. He couldn't keep this up, and the knowledge of that fact tore at his heart worse than any of the experiments he'd ever been submitted to did.
Tears burned his face as he weakly sat up against the offending tree and as his vision turned to a hopeless world of black and gray his eyes settled upon the small outcropping of farm buildings in the distance like a candle light in the darkness.
An idea sprang to mind and gulping back the impending fears he wiped the quicksilver from his eyes then reached for the blade in his belt. His hand came away bloody and a quick look told him it had in fact sliced into his side from all the tumbling. As if seeing it triggered the recognition in his mind, Darien gasped from the pain, covering the wound with his free hand.
No, he didn't have time for this he harshly thought to himself and wiping the scalpel and his hands on his already heavily soiled clothes, Darien pulled his ankle around to where he could see it better. It was the backside, which made it awkward plus it was impossible to see any marks that might give him a clue as to where the tracer was with all the dirt and scratches that covered his feet, but he didn't care. He just had to get it out of him, and then they couldn't follow him anymore, then he'd be free.
Taking a deep breath he put the point of the blade against his skin as close to the tracer as he could remember from the x-ray. With a sharp hiss he pushed down with the knife, a little surprised by the amount of blood that suddenly surged up through the cut. Invariantly holding his breath and sucking in more he pushed down harder, rewarded with even more blood. Simultaneously pain seemed to flood his foot and his mind, threatening him with the blackness of unconsciousness. Gritting his teeth Darien tried to ignore the kaleidoscope of sensations and focusing solely on finding the chip dug deeper, using numb fingers and an unsteady hold on the scalpel to spread apart his skin and search through the raw flesh.
Blood greased his fingers and covered any hope of seeing the small object, so left alone to feel it was a miracle in and of itself that Darien was even able to locate the tracer. It took another couple of awkward cuts to dislodge it from his ankle and breathing in hard and fast Darien at last sat back, the transponder lying in a growing puddle of blood in the dirt.
It took almost as much effort for him to then cut at the bandages that wrapped his damaged ribs to use on his foot. They soaked red instantly but at least he wasn't dripping anymore and shakily pulling himself up, Darien pushed on towards the buildings in the near distance.
It was sheer determination that got him as far, and luck it seemed that would get him further. As Darien neared the buildings, he spotted a truck being loaded with pallets of crates from the storehouse. Creeping closer, he waited till the forklift turned around for another pallet before he made his move.
Pushing through the darkness, Darien managed to turn himself invisible, surprised slightly as his body seemed to warm up to the quicksilver, then he was pulling himself bodily up into the truck and slipping back between the pallets. It was a tight fit, but it wasn't like he wasn't thin these days and even his height didn't cause a problem as he wiggled down between the pallets out of sight.
No longer able to hold his concentration, the quicksilver fell from his body, and the blackness of unconsciousness took over.
The man working the forklift loaded the last two pallets and called out to his buddies that he had finished.
"Yo, Angelo! Did one of the crates burst?" Another worker asked the forklift driver as he moved to shut the back of the truck but had stopped when he spotted a couple smears of red dirt.
Angelo walked over looking at the marks but pulling out a scrap of cloth from his back pocket wiped it away saying good naturally to his pal, "One of them's probably leaking. Not our concern anymore!"
His coworker laughed and grabbing the handle pulled down on the door, snapping the usual seal tags in place.
*****
With thin and worried lips Claire picked through the mass of blood and dirt with a pair of long tweezers. She found it at last, pulling it out of the mess and dropping it into a plastic bag before handing the transponder to the waiting Hobbes. Stripping her gloves off she carefully stood back up, vainly hoping to avoid stepping in any more of the blood littered ground then she already had. It was truly a gory sight and not at all reassuring.
"Do you think Arnaud did it or that the kid did it to himself?" Hobbes questioned frowning at the miniature device.
Looking around the site deep in thought at last Claire shook her head. "I don't think Arnaud's with him. There's an awful lot of blood here, we'll be lucky to find him alive if we find him at all. I just can't see De Fehrn taking the time to cut the transponder out and not being more careful if he just planned on dragging a dead body around." She looked around the condemned ground. "No, it's too messy, it had to have been Darien." She stated decisively.
Hobbes silently agreed, and turning in a circle spotted more patches of red on the ground. Looking up towards the buildings in sight, he automatically headed for them, speaking into his radio and motioning to his men as they moved out pushing their sweep in the new direction.
The Keeper grabbed her bag and raced to catch up, saying anxiously to Hobbes in quiet undertones. "He did a fair amount of damage to himself, I'm amazed he could even keep going. There's a good chance when we catch up with him it'll be too late, and not just for the shot."
Hobbes turned to look at her, giving her a grim expression as he quietly asked, "Does it really matter Claire? We still have to find him, dead or alive."
She didn't answer, but fell back a step as Hobbes pushed forward with even greater determination.
*****
Brendan set his cup of coffee down on the counter of the hallway they called a break room. Technically it wasn't actually a room at all, but the real break room was all the way on the other side of the warehouse, so for the few who worked on this side, the break 'hallway' worked just fine. Taking a deep sigh of relief, Brendan leaned back to wait for his coffee to cool to a more drinkable temperature. It'd been a long morning, and the sun had only just risen, but they'd just recently changed all the shipping times and this was only the second week of the new work schedule. Most of his crew had complained about having to start work so early, he hadn't liked it much either, but people seemed to be finally adjusting.
Brendan looked through the open doorway to the dock where Jimmy was busy on the forklift relieving the truck of its cargo filled pallets. There didn't seem to be anyone else on the dock at the moment, Brendan wasn't surprised, he knew where his crew was and the driver had probably taken off for the shop down the street to eat. It really was too early for this crap, Brendan thought reaching for his coffee.
His hand never touched it. A sudden exclamation from Jimmy immediately caught his attention and as Brendan turned he could see the young man jumping off the forklift with a series of shocked curses. Rushing out onto the dock, Brendan's first thought was that Jimmy had some how hurt himself, but he couldn't readily see any damage. "Jimmy?" Brendan questioned surprised to see the kid's face was white as a ghost as he neared.
Jimmy shook his head speechless and half-pointed inside the truck. Turning, Brendan involuntarily took a step back. At the back of the truck were the two remaining pallets, and laying perfectly still in front of them was a man, his white clothes stained darkly with dirt and blood.
A couple others had been attracted by Jimmy's initial reaction and curiously came over. "Wow! What'd ya do? Squish him?"
Brendan scowled over at Skip, who'd spoken, his leading instincts tuning out his momentary shock as he noticed Jimmy turning slightly green from Skip's comment. "Alright guys, keep it together here. Skip, take someone with you and go call 911, then wait outside for the paramedics." Brendan glanced at the pallet noticing the smears of red on the side. "Someone get this pallet off to the side and check the others for contamination. Wear gloves. No, not you Jimmy," He quickly amended as the kid automatically made to get back on the forklift. "I want you to stay here with me. The rest of you get back to your tasks, the world still turns without us!" Brendan ordered. The crew immediately split off, excitedly talking among themselves, but used to obeying their boss and soon disappeared from view.
Brendan pulled Jimmy to the side as someone hopped up on the forklift to move the pallet. Then turning to the young man, he regarded him steadily to see if he was about to pass out. Jimmy's skin was still pale, but there was intelligence in the eyes. "Wait here," Brendan told him and receiving a nod, made his way cautiously onto the truck.
Once inside, he noticed several red smears on the bed of the truck, more so as he slowly approached the stranger. It was unlike anything he'd ever seen, and Brendan didn't doubt it was likely to give him several nightmares after today. Brendan figured the guy was about his age and Caucasian, although with all the bruising Brendan could see on his bare arms, it was hard to say for sure. His face was unhealthily thin, and blood seemed to cover him everywhere, it was hard to tell where he might be actually cut, except for the foot. It was wrapped tightly in red bandages all the way up the ankle.
Crouching down, being careful not to step in anything, Brendan sized the man up in wonderment, wondering where the guy came from. The seal tags had been in place when the truck got here this morning, so that meant Mexico, but where before that? The clothes looked like they might be hospital issued or something yet Brendan just couldn't see anyone being treated this bad in a hospital, even in Mexico.
He felt foolish just crouching there, but Brendan didn't have a clue what he should do. Was he supposed to try and see if guy was still alive or just leave it for the EMTs? Somehow, he didn't think this exact situation was covered in the company's emergency handbook.
Just then the option was taken away from him and he almost fell back in shock when the guy suddenly shifted and groaned softly in pain. The man opened his eyes, blood red spheres gazing up with disorientation. A hand lifted slowly out, but it was obvious the man wasn't coherent and as it fell limply, a small pool of silver liquid seemed to seep out of the fingers to cover a small section of the truck bed. Brendan watched mystified as the mercury like substance began to dissolve, only it didn't, but quite suddenly where it had been the truck wasn't either and Brendan was staring through a hole at the pavement below.
Hesitant, he reached out. The second his fingers touched the spot the silver coating reappeared, this time actually dissolving into thin air and leaving the truck whole.
Brendan heard a gasp behind him and turned to see that Jimmy had crept into the truck. The kid's eyes were huge and he shook a little with nerves although Brendan doubted Jimmy even noticed. "Is he an alien?" Jimmy breathed out.
"No," Brendan told him definitely, then looking back to the semi conscious man on the floor and feeling a rise of anger at the injustice this man obviously went through stated, "He's a human being." Jimmy just nodded, his eyes never leaving the strangers as he stepped a pace closer.
The injured man groaned again, his eyes half-closing as a convulsion seemed to ripple through his body, but when it passed and he looked up at them again, there was more awareness there. Brendan shivered, it was unnerving to meet those eyes and he was surprised even further when the man before them struggled to speak, his voice hoarse and grinding, "H-help m-me."
Brendan and Jimmy quickly exchanged looks, then Brendan swallowed back his nerves and as calmly as he could said to the red eyed man. "It's alright. You're going to fine. We called 911, they're on their way."
This didn't seem to sooth the man at all. "No," he breathed out, his face contorting in pain as he struggled to move again in a growing panic. "I'm not going back," he half-gasped half-growled out.
The guy was beginning to panic, Brendan knew that couldn't be good and automatically reached out. An ice-cold hand suddenly gripped his in a surprisingly strong grasp. Brendan looked down in shock, meeting the man's insistence gaze. "Help me!" He hissed out, but the black pupils in the red sphere began to dilate and he fell back, his grip lessening.
Brendan awkwardly disengaged the man's hand and then turned his head sharply as the paramedics arrived, Skip following eagerly behind them.
"What happened?" The first EMT asked quickly sliding in next to the nearly unconscious man.
"I'm not sure. We found him like this," Brendan answered not sure how to explain the odd occurrence that had happen only a few minutes before. The EMT just nodded to him and then to his partner, quickly getting to work. Brendan backed up out of the way and motioned for Jimmy to follow Skip out of the truck, but stayed behind to watch.
One paramedic was already on a phone while the other was trying to talk to the injured man. The guy wasn't coherent, but did at one point suddenly cried out. The one on the phone quickly relayed, "He's a John Doe in his 30's. Has multiple lacerations, is hematomas. Unresponsive to verbal stimuli but responds to pain." He handed the phone over to his partner who'd worked to obtain the vitals as he coworker talked.
"Eighty over palp, thirty-six resps, and pulse is at one sixty. He's pale and diaphoretic." There was a small pause and then, "okay." Shutting the phone he said to his coworker, "alright, let's get the IV in."
Thinking again if he should tell them what happened, Brendan watched them wire the man, half expecting a reaction from the guy, but nothing followed except a couple moans, and all too soon the paramedics were ready to go.
"A cop will be by in a minute, he'll need to talk to you and who ever found him," the first EMT said to Brendan as they moved the stranger onto a back board and carried him out.
Brendan nodded, it was all he could think to do. They'd figure that weirdness out eventually, of coarse they would, they were doctors. He watched them leave, and looked to the daring few who'd crowded back onto the dock to watch. He noticed that Jimmy was still looking as pale as he had before, but he didn't seem to be talking and Skip was leaving him alone which meant Jimmy hadn't said anything about it either.
"Alright guys," Brendan stated to his crew. It was all he needed to say to prod them into going back to work. "Jimmy, you going to be alright?" Brendan asked cautiously. The kid nodded. "Alright, I want you to go into the office and wait for me, okay?"
Pushing the kid in the right direction, Brendan quickly turned to look out the window as the ambulance was just pulling away and a cop car was pulling up. This certainly was turning out to be one hell of a morning!
*****
Darien fought against the Black numbing pain, and it was pain. If it was pleasant he probably would have let himself fall to its temptation, yet his mind was very much aware of everything, so aware he couldn't respond, no matter how hard he tried.
The best he got was a few moans and grimaces as they stuck something on his finger, what ever it was, it was adding to his pain. His mind rolled with turmoil as they strapped him in to keep him from falling as the ambulance took off down the street, but to Darien is was just more bindings. Would it ever end? The thought reverberated through his anguished mind and suddenly he gasped, the sound of his voice echoing loudly in his ears. A now familiar wave of ice was beginning to build inside him, his blood apparently reacting to what ever they were giving him. Clenching his teeth, Darien waited for the onslaught, but it didn't happen like it had back at Arnaud's, this time the cold that surged up out of his pores like molten ooze that was oddly comforting.
As cold as it was, the flood of quicksilver took a lot of the pain with it, numbing Darien's senses to something more tangible and effectively reanimating his limbs to his control. The world faded quickly to the succor of black and white.
Darien wasn't exactly sure what was happening, but he imagined the site of the quicksilver covering his body and rendering him invisible was probably a shocking one for the two EMTs. As Darien regained his senses with the quicksilver's help the paramedics flattened themselves against a wall and yelled to the front to pull over.
Not wasting his chance, Darien snapped the restraints and fled as soon as the vehicle skidded over to the curb, not giving the ambulance a single look back as he ran down the nearest street. They were in some sort of industrial section of a city and the main roads were filled with heavy traffic intermixed with trucks which made maneuvering right now a bit tricky.
To add to it a headache was beginning to build in Darien's skull, a very familiar headache but one he hadn't felt since the Keeper had fist stuck him with that damn purple stuff. Sliding under an onramp bride, Darien backed away from the busy road, shedding the quicksilver and looking at his tattoo. The snake was all red, completely filled with red, not a single spec of green.
Another small explosion sent him to the ground as the shock deadened his muscles till it was over. Lying curled on the gravel Darien just gasped, breathing in hard for air. Then he reached back but quickly pulled his hand away when the gland burned at his touch. It felt raw and bruised, like the rest of him, but he didn't feel mad. Working to clear his mind, Darien slowly sat up and looked back down at the tattoo trying to reason out what was happening. Arnaud had said they had changed the gland, the actual gland?
Rubbing the grime away from his wrist, he watched in open amazement as the snake slowly began to fade from red to green till there was just a tip of red left. This wasn't making any sense.
The headache that signaled QSM was fading now, only the rest of the pains in his body were returning. What a trade off, Darien grimly mused to himself, but then a noise in the short distance caught his attention as with a rising panic he pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. His right foot felt like it was on fire and he almost fell again and grabbing whatever was close to keep himself upright, Darien staggered off in the opposite direction of the approaching sirens.
*****
Brendan looked mournfully at his cold cup of coffee still sitting on the counter. The EMT had been right, a cop did show up, several of them, and Brendan had been hard pressed to dealing with this whole mess of a situation. Even though he knew not even an hour had actually passed, Brendan already felt like it'd been more than a day. Sighing, he gulped down the cold coffee and turned to the dock reflecting on what to do next.
Only the HazMat team was left, clearing out the truck after they had the evidence they needed. Not longer after the police had arrived they had taken statements but near the end of the interview their radios had come to life and they took off in a hurry. From what he'd heard Brendan got the idea that the John Doe they had found had somehow escaped. He shook his head at the thought, the guy was practically unconscious, but he still couldn't push away the memory of the silver liquid and what it did to the bed of the truck. Maybe he was an alien, Brendan thought wryly to himself and almost laughed.
He looked to where Jimmy was sitting close by. The kid still looked out of it and Brendan was considering sending the guy home when he saw a short man and a tall blond woman walk in the side door. Maybe it was the way they were dressed, like they were part of some leather militia, or maybe it was just the way they held themselves, but Brendan was hard pressed to suppress the shiver that cascaded up his back.
Walking over, he asked, "Can I help you?"
The short man pulled out a badge and stated, "Department of Defense. I understand you had an occurrence earlier?" He asked regarding Brandon steadily.
Instincts bade Brendan to back away, but he kept his feet planted and evenly replied, although feeling more than a little paranoid. "Yes that's right. There was a stowaway in one of our shipments." Once again he couldn't help but remember the odd occurrence and the fear the man had expressed. He felt Jimmy's nervous gaze and could see the kid practically sinking in his chair through his peripheral vision.
The man didn't ask where the shipment was from, and Brendan got the feeling they already knew, in fact, they probably already knew who the John Doe was. "Do you know where he is now?" The man asked. Oh yea, they knew, Brendan thought to himself.
"They took the dead guy to the hospital or something," a new voice piped up from behind and Brendan turned seeing Skip trying to pry his way into the conversation. Brendan shot his crewmember an angry glare, where the hell did he come from?
"Dead?" The woman said sharply.
Speaking before Skip could say anything more, Brendan replied, "No. At least not when they left."
"Then, you were able to talk to him?" The short man questioned.
Almost shivering this time Brendan causally replied, pulling out all the same responses he'd given the cops not so long ago. "No. He wasn't coherent when we found him, but he was alive, then the paramedics showed up." As a quick afterthought Brendan added, "I'm not sure what happened, but not long after they left in the ambulance the cops got a call and took off in a hurry." Thinking the guy was still loose got the cops to leave, maybe it'd get these guys to leave as well.
It seemed to work for the woman was looking back to the door anxiously, but it took another minute under the man's scrutiny before he diplomatically said, "Thank you for your help. I'll be back if I have more questions." Brendan sincerely hoped not and was all too happy to see them leave.
Turning, he openly glared at Skip but said blandly, "Skip they need help over on shipping line 2."
"What?" The guy asked startled by the order and half still watching out the window with over curiosity.
"Go help the shipping lines. Now." The order sunk in and Skip looked ready to protest but with one look at his boss' face turned and left instead.
Brendan looked over at Jimmy. Yes, he definitely needed to send the kid home. "What was that?" Jimmy asked shakily, having overheard the entire conversation.
Brendan reflectively looked out the window like Skip had just been doing. The man and the woman were standing next to a black SUV in close conversation. Brendan wasn't so surprised to see another man, all in black, approach them from a different black SUV before they all separated to the respective vehicles and left. Turning back to Jimmy, Brendan replied somberly, "Something you only see on TV, my friend. Something you only see on TV."
Jimmy nodded, then silently asked a little hopeful, "Do you think he got away?" Brendan knew who Jimmy was referring to, but he didn't respond.
*****
Darien hit the chain link fence and sank half way down to the ground panting heavily. His body was half-numb with pain and it as getting harder to breath. Tightly closing his eyes he squinted the silver tears away, the filmy black and white vision distorting the edges of everything in sight. After taking several deep breaths he tried again to quicksilver the rest of his body, but after several minutes had to give up. It was like pushing against the wall again only it was a much thicker wall.
Looking at the quarter filled snake he futilely wiped at his invisible eyes and pulling himself back up started making his way along the fence. He had no idea what was happening to him, and all he wanted to do was sit down and let it happen, but he knew the cops weren't far behind, and he couldn't let them find him. He was too close to freedom, too close to give up now.
It wasn't long before Darien found a worn hole in the fence, and scrambling through it entered the vast train yard that stretched out before him. The section he was in was for the most part only rusted cars and broken tracks, pretty much anything in need of repair that could easily be forgotten about.
Trying to stay out of sight Darien began climbing between the cars, yet as he was climbing down a small pile on the other side, the rubble began to move causing Darien to roll to the ground.
"Hey, W'tch where ya goin'!" An irate voice cried out and a rumpled mass of torn clothes and a gray and dirt covered face emerged from under the debris. "Craz' loon!" The guy angrily yelled but immediately laughed and repeated, "Craz' Loone. Crrraaaazee Looon!" He laughed again a decidedly non-coherent laugh, but it suddenly stopped as the guy took a closer look at the startled Darien. "Ey, her's somtin' wron wit' yer eyes, bro! Day arn't dar. Whadcha do wit' em? Give em awa'? Go' anytin el'?" He questioned eagerly.
Darien skittered back in a panic getting back to his feet as the man took a step towards him, but the old man immediately backed off realizing Darien was far taller than he. He grumbled, "No sense in gettin' upse' I jus' askin'. Crazy loone...craz' crazzzyy loooon." Darien could only stare as the man turned back to the pile of collected rubble and seemed to practically disappear beneath its safe facade.
Wondering if he should ask the guy for help, Darien quickly dismissed that idea and turning started making his way back through the cars, cautiously watching where he placed each foot.
*****
Hobbes held back the broken fence as Claire stepped through the opening into the nearly deserted train yard. "Are you sure he went this way?" She asked for the second time.
"Positive." He stated frowning as he scanned the area in sight. "My men won't be able to distract the cops for long, we need to catch him before they do."
"We need to get him the shot," the Keeper disputed. "From the reports I think he's entering the final stage of the metamorphosis, which gives us just a few hours. Frankly, I'm amazed he's still going."
"Never underestimate a man's instinct for survival, Claire," Bobby warned as they moved gingerly into the train yard. "Let's split up. Keep in touch on the radios." The Keeper nodded and moved off to the right while Hobbes jumped between two cars and started his way down the row.
He had his gun out and ready as he slinked around the rusting train cars. Spotting something on the dirt he crouched down and ran a finger through the muddy patch bringing it up to smell the metallic quality. Blood. Then he heard a rustle close by and wondering if Darien was still there, Hobbes turned sharply towards the pile of junk that had shifted.
It went perfectly still. Hobbes was about to prod it with his gun when an old whiney voice drifted quietly out to him. "Craaaazzzee Loooonn! Hehehe...Craz' crazee loooon!" The piled seemed to separate and Hobbes could see the face of the old man emerge. The man noticed Hobbes there for the first time and spit out, "You craz' loon!"
Sighing and straightening Hobbes said to the old man. "A man came through here, what way did he go?"
"Stran' man. No eyes da' man. Gave em 'way. No' ta me, craz' loon! No' ta me!" The man babbled starting to pick through his stuff, pulling it to him like he was forming a blanket.
"Which way did he go?" Hobbes asked again with a growing frown.
"No' ta me. I'se n' hur' em. I'se 'ake good care, I'se 'ould." The old man turned away from Hobbes picking through more stuff and continuing to ramble.
Hobbes lips thinned, he'd have more luck just guessing a direction. Tucking the gun away Hobbes pulled out his bottle and dry swallowed two pills. As he did he noticed the old man had quieted and was now staring at him, or more pointedly, at the bottle in his hand. Slowly Hobbes put the lid back on the small container. The old man's eyes followed eagerly. Crouching down so he was level height with the man, Bobby stated dryly. "You want these? I'll give them to you, but-" The man practically lunged towards him in anticipation, but stopped when Hobbes held up a hand and held the bottle out of reach. "But," he repeated. "You have to show me what way the man with no eyes went."
The old man didn't turn his gaze away from the bottle afraid it would disappear if he did, but an old and scarred hand shakily rose to point between two rusty train cars. "Good job," Hobbes dryly stated and tossed the pills to the old man as if he was giving a dog a bone.
The old man crowed with delight clutching the small white bottle to him and whispering, "Craz' Loon. You craz' loon!" As he buried himself under his pile of stuff.
Regarding the pile for a second, Hobbes shook his head in disgust and pulling his gun out again moved through the train cars. On the other side he found a small trace of blood, the smallest of smears, but it was enough for Hobbes and he continued moving as quietly as possible through the cars.
He'd been moving pretty steadily, but it was slow going, there were a lot of placed for a person to hide in a train yard. The radio at his belt clicked and the quieted voice of the Keeper asked, "Hobbes? Have you found anything?"
If Hobbes hadn't been distracted by the radio he would have heard the scrapping on the top of the car beside him, but the first sign he had was the small grunt in the air above his head. Turning a little too late, Hobbes was taken by surprise as Darien's body literally fell on top of him. They both collapsed to the ground, Bobby landing heavily on his back with Darien on top of him, the gun falling away from Hobbes' grip in the fall.
The sharp edge of a ragged piece of metal bit at the side of Hobbes' throat where Darien held it, his other hand gripping tightly to the lapels of Hobbes' jacket. Staring up into invisible eyes, Hobbes met the man's unseen glare.
Darien's face was contorted in pain and anger, his fury blinding him to the numbness in his limbs and giving him strength he didn't have. "You should have stayed dead!" Darien growled out staring down at the man who'd been his warden for more than the last year of his life.
"It's over, Darien." Hobbes calmly told him, then grimaced as Darien pushed the metal piece further against his skin, the amateur blade cutting in. The warmth of the blood that emerged was a high contrast to the clammy cold of Darien's skin against his. This had gone far enough.
Reaching around Hobbes grabbed Darien's wrist planning to overpower the weaker man, but Darien let out a savage growl and grabbing Hobbes' wrists as well rolled with him on the ground trying to gain the upper hand. Pulling a leg up Hobbes kicked out, feeling the jerk and sudden lax of Darien's body before the man rolled off him, yet Darien still struggled to his feet, the long piece of metal gripped tightly in his hand.
Hobbes crouched, ready, but was surprised as Darien suddenly jerked, stumbling forward a couple steps before he regained his balance. He reached over his shoulder and it soon became apparent what happened. Darien pulled a dart from his back and turning grinned maliciously at the Keeper standing a couple train cars away, her dart gun raised.
Looking at the dart in his hand Darien laughed, "It's not going to work this time!" He stated grinning, and as the quicksilver began to coat his body he told them defiantly, "I'm not going back!"
When Darien had disappeared from sight, Hobbes tensed, straining his ears trying to prepare, but nothing could prepare him, not really, and he felt the cold brush of wind on his face a moment before the fire engulfed his side. With a cry of pain he sank to the ground, the sound of Darien's vengeance filled laugh fading away as the man ran down the row of cars.
The Keeper rushed over, pulling her bag to the ground and kneeling beside Hobbes as the long piece of metal shed it's quicksilver to reveal itself lodged in Hobbes side not so far from his bullet wound. Bobby gritted his teeth and tried to push against the Keeper to stand but with little effort she held him down.
"No time for this Keep, he's getting away," he said trying to rise again, and failing miserably.
"Relax, would you? I need to take care of this first." Hobbes made to protest, but she pinned him to the ground to do her work and calmly told him. "We'll catch up to him after I patch you up. I put a tracer in the dart."
He nodded, closing his eyes to focus and then bit his tongue to keep from crying out as Claire pulled the piece from his side. "You must have a well of good luck, Bobby. You're gonna hurt like bloody hell, but you're going to live, again."
Bobby opened his eyes to see her giving him a thin grin, and returned a crooked one himself. "Runs in the family," he grumbled. "Bobby Hobbes can live through anything!" Their smiles lingered a second more but then faded, Claire moving quickly and expertly to 'patch him up' well Hobbes' mind traveled to other thoughts to keep himself distracted from her work on his body. "Answer me this Keeper. Why didn't he just go Saran-Wrap from the beginning?"
"He can't anymore. Not without the addition of a foreign toxin, like the tranquilizer. The gland is using the quicksilver to purge it from his body so to speak." She told him as she put the last bandage in place. The new gash in his side would need further attention later but the cut on his neck was already clogging, it hadn't been that deep although chances were good there'd still be fine scar later.
Using Claire's help to stand he stated, "So it's working?"
"Yes, but without the last shot of the catalyst, his heart's going to give up on him soon. Not to mention that it'll be all for not if the boss gets him back."
Nodding, Hobbes scanned the dusty ground for his gun, spying the object not so far away. After retrieving it he looked thoughtfully back at the Keeper and told her, "I think I have an idea for that."
*****
Darien had just slipped through the group of workers at the other end of the train yard while invisible and into the nearest alley when he finally lost control, the quicksilver shedding from his body like a fountain. His head throbbed as he shakily sank to the ground tightly hugging himself against the cold shivers that wracked his body. There was so much hurt he was having a hard time focusing, the pain feeling twice as bad as it had now that the quicksilver was gone and he could feel again. He'd almost rather chance the madness and remain invisible for its numbing release, but it was getting harder and harder to concentrate on anything now.
At least his vision was back to normal again he realized and knowing he couldn't stay put struggling rose to his sore and throbbing feet, knives of pain streaking up his leg as he put weight on it. He almost fell again then as an explosion suddenly rocked the area, and staring around the corner towards the train yard he could see the large billow of black smoke rising in waves to the sky. Only seconds later sirens began to fill the air and the already nearby cops began to pull in.
Quickly moving back in a panic, Darien made off down the alley.
He had been walking for an hour before he finally stopped. He hadn't heard any sirens since he'd left the train yard, and hoped he'd finally lost them. Moving unsteadily from one block to the next while still keeping out of sight, he'd finally found an abandoned warehouse that he wandered into.
At this point it was becoming a struggle to keep his eyes open and his legs moving, he was so exhausted and every limb felt fifty pounds heavier. The tightness in his chest had been growing for so long he'd become accustomed to the shallow breaths. Only his desperate thoughts of escape seemed to moving, and after an eternity he managed to pull himself inside the main building intending to collapse under its roof.
Yet as Darien limped inside, using the wall to support himself, he finally had to stop, fear freezing him more than the quicksilver had when he realized he wasn't alone. Several feet away stood Hobbes casually leaning up against the same wall, standing perfectly still with his arms crossed as he watched Darien with steady dark eyes.
Darien felt the last of his strength give way with the sight of the man and he sank to his knees, desperate tears of quicksilver blurring his vision. "It's over," he mumbled resigned, echoing the words Hobbes had said to him back in the train yard.
At last Hobbes moved, walking up to the man, his arms uncrossing to reveal the gun he held. "You know? I'm really tired of chasing you," Hobbes commented with a sour expression.
Darien swallowed against the lump growing in his throat, and squinted his eyes shut, feeling the cold burn of quicksilver on his cheeks. After all this, he just couldn't do it again. "I can't go back, Hobbes," he practically whimpered.
"No. You can't." Hobbes stated bluntly.
Opening his eyes in surprise Darien's blood rushed with burning fear as he spied the gun, but he pushed that fear back, his mind embracing the idea and he softly stated. "Do it Hobbes. Kill me. Please. End this!"
Hobbes' face twisted into an annoyed scowled. "I have no intention of killing you, Darien!" He exclaimed.
Darien looked at him confused, his mind foggy with the pounding headache. "W- what? What are you going to do then?" Darien asked baffled.
"We plan to help you, Darien." Claire said coming around the corner, a large needle in her hand, the purple liquid glistening. "Trust us."
The fear blossomed inside him again and Darien sat back against the wall, frankly wanting to pass out but too shocked to submit to that blissful blackness. "You have a strange concept of trust," he quietly bit out, but already knew he didn't have a choice.
Hobbes crouched down next to the man, his eyes scanning over Darien's face, an odd expression crossing his own face as he stared into the empty sockets where the invisible eyes rested. "Look, kid. I really am tired of chasing you. I'm tried of watching you, of hearing you, of hearing about you. So after this last shot you can go in your own direction and we can get on with our happy lives." Hobbes lectured. Darien just watched him. "So, as long as you keep your nose clean, and away from my life, I will be a much better man. Otherwise, I will have to hunt you down and kill you, and believe me, I will. Got it?"
Darien nodded numbly, although he wasn't sure if he did. Were they...were they letting him go? Then the Keeper came over and kneeling down on his other side explained to him, "Darien, there's a unique bond between you and the gland that made it impossible for us to take it out, so instead I began working on a module that would change the gland itself. I didn't think the conditions would ever be possible for it to work, but it did. This catalyst will finish that process. I can't guarantee what will happen afterwards, but I can tell you, you won't need the counteragent anymore. Will you let me put it in?"
Hobbes frowned at her, commenting dryly. "I think it's a bit late for that, Keeper."
Darien had to agree, and staring numbly at the needle mumbled, "Do it." He could feel their hot hands on his frozen shoulder as they gently pushed him to the ground on his side. Then he felt the explosion in his neck and head as Claire inserted the needle directly into the gland. This time as the quicksilver surrounded him reacting to the intrusion the pain didn't die away, but instead burned through him, coursing down through his veins. The pounding in his ears tripled drowning out all other sounds but his own. He could feel himself scream, could feel himself gasp for breath through his burning chest, feel his nerves twang like plucked strings.
He didn't know how long it lasted, but eventually he felt the blackness seep in over his senses, and then there was relief at last.
*****
"You're sure?"
"Yes, sir." Claire stated. She sat in a chair across from the Boss' desk, Bobby half sitting in the windowsill, he had new stitches in his side but had refused to remain bedded down. The Boss was behind his desk glaring darkly at the two of them, Eberts stood behind his shoulder looking through the examination report the Keeper had brought in with her. "I compared the remains myself. I was definitely him." She stated.
"And the gland?" The Boss asked.
"Ashes. I've got them in my lab if you want to look at them," she offered.
The fat man huffed then replied, "That won't be necessary." He paused looking up at Eberts who just closed the file and handed it over.
"It's all here," Eberts said blandly.
With that the Keeper and Hobbes were dismissed. They walked together in silence down the hall of the new building the compound was being set up in, people from various projects moving by in their usual business like fashion. "I wonder-" Claire began to muse but was cut off as Bobby gripped her arm.
"No Claire," he stated darkly. "Don't even let yourself wonder about him." Then he moved steadily down the hall leaving her standing there in surprise.
*****
When Darien came to again the sun was readying itself to set, the dimming light casting shadows all along the walls of the warehouse. For several minutes Darien just lay still, listening to the quiet sounds of the occasional insect, but nothing else disturbed the peace. He was amazed to find himself alone, and alive. Reaching back he gingerly felt the sore area of his head, it protested, but not violently so, the same with the rest of his body. He could still feel his wounds but it was normal pain, and the shiver that swept through him was from the cooling wind of night, nothing more.
With a sudden elation he slowly sat up taking a first real look around. He was still a mess, still covered in dried mud and blood, but that all seemed trifle now as realization slowly set in. He was free, truly free. Spying a black duffel bag nearby he pulled it over and cautiously unzipped it. Inside he found clean clothes, normal cloths not the whites he'd become so accustomed to wearing, along with medical supplies, a considerably hefty wad of cash, a pair of sunglasses, a new drivers license that labeled him under a different name, and a note that simply read, 'Don't get caught.'
Darien regarded the items curiously. This couldn't have been something they'd gotten spur of the moment, which meant they had been planning this. He wondered idly about that fact for a few minutes then pushed it away for later contemplation and began to strip. Whatever their reasons, he knew only one thing. He was free, and he fully intended on staying that way.
Using the last of the light, Darien cleaned himself as best he could and dressed in the new clothes, gingerly pulling on running shoes over his freshly wrapped and socked feet. Standing was awkward, and the shoes felt foreign, but he smiled, curling his toes in the small warmth. He stuffed his old and bloodied clothes into the bag remembering the note's words of caution. He didn't want to leave any trace of him ever being there. He'd have to burn them later or something.
Carefully hanging the tot bag over his shoulder he pulled the sunglasses from his new suede jacket. There had to be a reason they had been put in the bag, and thinking back to the way his eyes had looked the last couple of days, he slid them on despite the setting sun. Then stepping cautiously from the warehouse to the open street Darien finally let loose his grin, sucking in the fresh cool air and relishing in the darkness of the night. To him, the world was suddenly the most beautiful thing he'd seen a long long time, and adjusting the tot while stuffing his other hand in his pocket he began to blissfully walk down the street.
Author's Note: Now, as I was plotting and relaying this scene to my friend, she said that it reminded her of the final scenes from the series the Hulk. Now, I've never seen that series, but for the sake of all those who have, insert depressing music here.
"Charles Caleb Cotton once said 'To dare to live alone is the rarest courage; since there are many who would rather meet their bitterest enemy in the field, than their own hearts in their closet.' I've been alone for along time. I guess in some ways, we all were."
Fini