Chpt. 3

"Are you going to go about with that thing jabbing me in the kidney all day?" Walter grunted as he turned to lock his front door, Astrid close at his back.

"No, professor Bishop. We're going to go about your routine as normal, today, and this is only a reminder, to keep you on the right track," the muzzle of her pistol softly brushed the hem of his overcoat, before disappearing into her shoulder holster, "and don't think we don't know your schedule, we've been tailing you for quite some time."

"I hope it wasn't you. That must have been dreadfully boring," Walter said.

"You're going to miss the bus, professor Bishop," Astrid smiled, setting him back on track.

"It's Sunday. I don't take the bus on Sunday," Walter said seriously, "I walk through the cemetery."

"Then we'll walk through the cemetery."

"No. We'll take the bus," Walter said quickly, turning and leading the way down the steps of the house to the sidewalk.

"Offer me your arm," Astrid said lowly, and he frowned flatly as he obeyed, and she gently gripped the crook of his elbow as they strode along. Astrid tapped an earpiece hidden away in her curls, "We're moving, Charlie."

Walter's eyes were drawn to movement across the street, and a dark-haired man folded his newspaper shut, nodding at Astrid and rising from his seat to pace them, "And I thought you were cute," Walter grumbled.

They walked a block to the corner bus stop, and stood with the small gathering to wait. Walter pushed his left hand into his coat, firmly tugging a button free on his shirt just under his tie. He glanced at Astrid, who was watching Charlie across the street. Walter silently slid his hand into his shirt, across his skin until his finger met steel.

He paused as Astrid returned her attention to him, shifting her grip on his arm, "Tell me about the Divider," she said quietly.

"You know about it already, you're a spy," Walter grumped, "What else could I possibly tell you that hasn't been written about every move I make?"

Astrid chuckled, "I'm not a spy, professor Bishop, I'm a government agent. And this is for your own good, quiet obviously," she tugged on his gloved right hand with a dark smile.

Walter glanced up as the bus rounded the corner, and the waiting patrons around him began to move about, gathering their possessions. Walter's hand slowly and carefully found a tiny dial just above his clavicle, turning it up notch by notch with his fingernail, "The government may partially fund my experimentations, but their contributions are far too menial to give them leeway in my work," Walter said, returning a bitter smile. He could feel the minute vibrations his shoulder began to emit. He was half thankful that Astrid had released his elbow.

He had a strange suspicion the this was really going to hurt.

"Your work is too important… and substantially dangerous, to ignore," Astrid replied as the bus halted at the curb, the air breaks hissing as the vehicle lowered itself for easier access, "you knew when you decided to accept aide that you would have to cooperate with us."

"Scientist repo," Walter muttered as the other borders flooded past them and onto the bus. At last Walter stepped aside, allowing Astrid to mount the steps before him, and he reached up, burying his steel fingers into the frame of the door, ripping the seams of his black glove. Astrid spun around, her eyes round with shock as he hauled the door shut and bent it into place, "I'm sorry!" He called to her as she hit the glass, calling his name, "this is too dangerous for the government to mettle in, right now!" He turned on his heel, pushing past a late arrival to head for a side street, "Too dangerous for someone with something to loose," he muttered under his breath.

He had counted on her partner Charlie's arrival, but not as soon as it was. "Bishop!" he called in warning, "Stop!"

"Officer!" Walter called to the police cruiser parked outside of a restaurant, and the officer looked up as he trotted up, "I'm sorry, officer, there appears to be a man after me, and I think he has a gun."

The policeman looked up as Charlie rounded the corner, his firearm held low to his side, and the officer quickly drew his own gun, "Sir, stop where you are and drop your weapon!"

Walter did not wait around for the theatrics, and set off in the opposite direction at once. A bullet struck the cement wall behind him and he gave a yelp, darting for cover. Another bullet struck his coattail as he ducked behind a car, and he heard Charlie subdue the mettling officer, back in pursuit once more. His heart hammering, Walter looked around for a method of escape, and swallowed back a dark chuckle as he spotted it, and checked his pocketwatch.

Yep. It would certainly hurt.

"Bishop, NO!" Charlie barked as Walter broke from cover, and after a few fleeting steps, jumped the small side rail of the bridge, flinging his right arm behind himself to grind his mechanical fingers into the cement, rubble and dust trailing him as he slid down the steep slope, shredding the sleeve of his coat and shirt. At last he lost his balance and gave a cry as his knee clipped the concrete, disturbing his decent as he tumbled from the side of the funnel, coming to a crashing landing shoulder-first atop the train.

Walter felt a white-hot, blinding pain erupt from his temple as he felt himself sliding from the roof, and he raised his steel fist, plunging it into the weak metal of the roof. He splayed his fingers to keep himself in place, and blinked a few times, the world growing hazy. A shock ran up his arm and he retracted with a curse, "Not now, damn it!" He shut his eyes as the cacophony of sirens and yells faded away.

At length he sat up, cradling his head in his hands, as the side of his face was covered with blood. The real parts of his body ached unbearably, and he had a small suspicion that his knee was broken. He delved into his coat for his medication, and only laughed hopelessly to find the bottle shattered against his breastplate, pills missing. He threw it off the side if the train as it rattled swiftly down the tracks.

xXx

"He's a crazy son of a bitch," Charlie said, shaking his head as he sat in the off-drivers' side of the unmarked vehicle, taking a drink of his coffee.

"The suspicion has been raised," Astrid admitted.

"I thought you said he was a physics instructor, not James friggin' Bond," Charlie continued, "I swear to god, I thought he was dead when he jumped. A second sooner and that train would have creamed him. And how he managed that slide crap… unbelievable."

"I doubt he's in very good shape, after a fall like that," Astrid mused, "it was an act of desperation. He's always wanted to keep that arm a secret, he admitted that, and now he's given a display to dozens of citizens."

"You want to check the hospitals? I'm sure they'd report someone that was an android."

"He isn't an android, shut up. And no, he wouldn't need a hospital, he's a doctor himself. I've got units posted at the university and his house, along with the Massive Dynamics building, in case he needs Bell to give him repairs."

"Or an oil change," Charlie joked, and Astrid smirked.

"Yeah. Listen, he said something about not taking the bus on Sundays, about walking through the cemetery. Do you know anything about that?"

"His house is right across the street from the cemetery," Charlie offered, "Do you think he moved there for it? Wife deceased, something?"

"The file says he lost his son a while ago, some sort of animal attack," Astrid frowned, musing her chin with her fingertips, "The same one that took his arm."

"Just his arm?" Charlie questioned, "What about the other parts?"

"His eye and his ear. I don't know. But one thing is certain; William Bell rebuilt them. But that doesn't matter, right now. We've got to get over to that cemetery and have a look-see on what we can find along the lines of one 'Peter Bishop'."

xXx