Fight For Your Life

The day should have been done. All three Rowdies had been delivered back to their room after twelve straight hours of tests. They were all aching and exhausted, their feet dragging as they stumbled towards the bunks, not even bothering with a change of clothes. Sleep had been the intention, but Martin hadn't even made it up the ladder when they heard the comm buzz through and the automated voice warned them to step back from the door. Three guards came in, though others could be seen in the hallway, and they were all armed.

"Go away," Gripps said, already facedown in his pillow.

"Not goin' anywhere," Cross agreed.

"We're done for the day," Martin groused as he started his slow climb to the top bunk. Good luck to them getting him out that door once he made it.

"We've been instructed to take you back to the South Wing for one last test."

Martin paused halfway up. Those weren't the labs or the medical wing. The South Wing was made up of what Blackwing referred to as their observation rooms. This was an odd hour to stick them in that. Were they hoping to observe their sleeping habits? He hoped not. There had to be a few minutes out of the day that they weren't being watched like the lab rats they were.

The guards moved in and they went for Cross first since he was still standing in the middle of the room. He fought as they took hold of his arms, slamming his head back into the guard's face behind him and kicking as they tried to grab his legs. "No more!" he shouted, agitation clipping his words.

Martin dropped from the ladder and Gripps was halfway up as well when the stench hit the blond and stopped him mid-stride. Priest appeared at the open door, gas pack strapped to his back, and he sprayed Cross until he stopped fighting.

Priest immediately turned to Gripps, hitting him next even though he hadn't rushed him. The new head of security turned to Martin and the bespectacled Rowdy raised his hands slowly. "We ain't fightin' you on this," he said lowly.

"Looked to be exactly what you were doin'," Priest answered and the gas hit.

He came around with a jolt of electricity screaming through him. His entire body shook with it, slamming his head hard against a metal slab behind him. He was standing, strapped into place and his wrists were secured at his sides. Martin grunted as he struggled against them, but they didn't budge.

"I'd save your strength, Martin. It could be a very long night."

Blue eyes darted to his left to see Priest giving him a lazy sort of smile, standing slowly from the seat he had been lounging in. Martin kept tugging at his restraints. "What gives?"

"Well not those," Priest chuckled.

"Where's Riggins? You ain't in charge of the testing."

"No, but I am here to oversee the security. You don't get results without a little… risk, but no reason to give you boys hope of another joyride, is there? Or her."

"Her?" Martin echoed, tilting his head.

Priest motioned and lights flooded the room on the other side of a one-way window, showing a young girl with wild hair and a slightly crazed look to her eyes as she tried to pinpoint the source of the new light. She was covered in blood, though as far as Martin could tell none of it appeared to be hers. He turned a questioning look at Priest who looked… proud. It was a terrifying expression on his face.

"Her name is Bartine Curlish. Blackwing has been trying to bring her in since she was nine years old. Four years, not a one of them could get her. She killed most of them. Brutally too. Blood everywhere. It was a real mess."

Martin blinked at him. As if he needed more proof that Priest was crazy, he was nearly giddy as he spoke. Scratch that. He was giddy. No reason to sugar coat the crazy.

"I brought her in though." Priest smirked at him. "You and I have history now, Martin. You're one hell of a fighter. So're the other Incubus subjects, so when the last subject we dropped in with her didn't make it out, I thought of you boys."

"For what, exactly?"

The door slid open and Gripps and Cross, both strapped to the same type of contraption as Martin was to keep them in place, were rolled in. Both unconscious, but as the guards stepped back electricity shocked them awake.

"Test limits, mostly."

"Easier ways to kill us, Priest."

"Oh, I have no intention of you dying today, Martin. Where's the fun in that? No, we'll drop you in one by one. Bart will do what Bart does and we'll observe the differences in how you fight singularly versus how that link of yours works. All the notes on you boys were inconclusive when it comes to that. No tellin' if you can feel each other's pain or not. Guess we'll find out."

A chill swept through him as he saw the way Priest was eyeing his brothers, like he was trying to decide which one would go first. Martin wasn't sure exactly how that little girl had killed bounty hunters and other subjects, but he did know that the first one of them dropped in would be in the most danger. They fought as a unit. "Fine," he snapped after a moment. "No gettin' out of it. Send me in first."

"Always ready to sacrifice for your brothers, aren't you?" Priest chuckled. "Not this time. That one first." He motioned to Cross and a guard stepped forward warily. Priest held up a small device. "Don't even think about it, kid. The collar around your neck ain't jewelry. You try to feed and I snap a button here. You'll be down within seconds, and I promise you that unconsciousness will not save you from Bartine."

Martin saw the fear in Cross' dark eyes and he pulled hard on his restraints. "No!"

Priest chuckled. "See, Martin, you think I gotta go through you, but I don't. You don't make the rules in here, son." He reached over, taking hold of the tuff of white blond hair on top of his head and jerked his neck at an awkward angle so that the tattoo Gripps had inked into his skin was fully visible to the older man. "The only control here is mine."

The blond Rowdy snarled and fought as they unstrapped his brother and forced him into the room with the teenage killer. His gaze caught Gripps' briefly and he could feel the same fear from him as he felt himself.

Cross stumbled into the room, still looking a little dazed from the gassing he had gotten. He blinked hard and Martin leaned hard against his restraints, getting as close as physically possible as he saw the girl rise from where she had been seated, legs bent and folded. Her gaze locked on their youngest brother and a sharp, parking laugh escaped her as she darted forward.

"Get him ready," Priest instructed, motioning to Gripps.

Cross moved, his steps light and Martin saw him looking for a weapon of some kind. There wasn't much. A mat, some chairs, a table in the corner. No bats, no crowbars or anything the boys would have preferred. Cross leapt to the side, as the girl lurched towards him, hands outstretched like she was ready to tear his throats out.

He didn't give her a chance as he jumped for a chair, swinging it hard at her.

And missed.

It had been so close that it would have taken more effort to miss than hit, but the chair slipped from his fingers and hit the wall hard enough to crack the plastic seating.

Bart slammed into Cross and the dark haired Rowdy hit the floor hard, but rolled, catching her in the stomach with his boot and vaulting her over hard and rolling to his own feet.

The girl staggered to her feet where she'd landed and shook her head as if to clear it, her gaze falling on the chair. A toothy grin took over and she stopped to grab the chair, using her foot to hold it as she worked a bent piece of the metal leg until it came off sharp and dangerous. Her gaze fixed back on Cross and he froze.

Martin struggled hard. "Priest! Let us in there! Let us in there!" he shouted, feeling his brother's fear that was slamming into him like a tidal wave.

Priest held a hand up and continued watching Bart circle Cross, the Rowdy echoing the steps. Someone had to move first, but it would depend how fast the reaction of the other was how it would end.

And then it happened. Bart came at him and Cross moved. She had been going for his throat with it but he was faster and sidestepped last second. She tipped a little off balance and he slammed an elbow into her back to finish the fall. Bart swung, though, lashing out and Martin could feel the spike that came with physical pain through their link.

Cross tumbled in the opposite direction, hand going to his side and coming away bloodied.

"Now," Priest barked and Gripps was loosed into the room as well.

Martin could feel the straps biting through his jumpsuit with as hard as he was pulling against them. Gripps looked ready to kill as he gave a howl and went to his little brother's aid.

Cross was pulling himself up, the cut deep, but not so much that he couldn't stand. The two Rowdies looked at each other, silent understanding between them and the moved in opposite directions, circling around the girl and working together to push her in the direction that they needed her to go.

Bart huffed, frustration starting to build as she gripped her makeshift weapon, but couldn't quite land another blow on the two Rowdy Boys as they moved out of her reach.

"Now I do wonder if I can trust you enough to get you ready, Martin?" Priest drawled and the bound man looked over to him.

"You gonna let me help them?"

"When the time's right, but you cause trouble out here and I'll leave those to to Bart, do you understand me?"

"Yeah."

The straps came undone and Martin sprang forward, his nose nearly pushed against the glass. His brothers were still dancing around an increasingly irritated teen girl between them until Martin saw their plan as it unfolded.

Cross was bait. She went for him and Gripps pulled the mat from under her feet, sending her sprawling and she hit the floor hard enough that she lost her hold on the chair leg.

Gripps tackled her, holding her to the floor so that Cross could take hold of her weapon. She slammed forward hard, taking Gripps by surprise, and he fell back, a dazed expression on his face.

Priest motioned and they opened the door to let Martin in. He almost moved faster than the door with a shout to draw her attention away from Gripps. He got it.

Martin had been in plenty of scuffles over the years. He enjoyed them. There was the rush of adrenaline and the spike of knowing you had to come out in top. This one smelled like trouble though. It was strange and off-putting, and the way this girl smelled made him more than a little uneasy. Like death was her only real companion.

"Look," she said and that was the first indication that she even could talk, "this ain't my fault. You gotta die, okay?"

"Priest tell ya that?"

"Who's Priest?" she asked and jump at him, the blow surprisingly hard for a scrawny girl like her. He shouldn't have been shocked. He'd watched his brothers try to take her on.

Something was off about the whole thing. He could feel it now that he was face to face with her. He couldn't pinpoint it, but his steps faltered where they never would have before and blows weren't blocked where they could have easily been avoided with anyone else. She was a weirdo like him, but her weirdness was affecting him. He didn't like that.

His brothers joined the fight and it was a blur of movement, but the one constant was the feeling that they were off of their game when up against this girl. Martin could almost feel Priest sneering at them. He knew this was coming and he'd put them in anyway. He was making his point: The Rowdy Three weren't in control. To survive this, they'd have to constantly be on their guard, constantly fighting for their lives. There was no rest, there was no peace, there was only the fight.

If that's what it took, he'd give them one hell of a fight.

And he did. They all did, but it was like the whole universe was working against them and for her. Like something outside that room didn't want them to win this fight, or even to give them much of a chance. One little girl was winning against the Rowdy Three and as Martin picked himself up, feeling an ache spread through his ribs from the last hard blow he'd suffered, he caught Cross' eyes. He was the only one that would have the chance. Even if all three of them fed at the same time, they'd never drain her fast enough to avoid Priest's failsafe. Cross might have a chance though, and if he could get enough from her to get the upper hand, they might get out of this alive. They weren't above cheating to survive.

Martin moved in the last second and Cross pounced, taking her head over heels across the floor as Martin and Gripps shifted to do their best to shield the view from the window. Cross and Bart landed hard, Cross on top and holding her down, the subtle feeding exchanging energy from her to his hands as he pulled it in. It wouldn't be long until Priest figured it out, but if Cross could get enough….

And then it hit. Martin saw the lights flash on the collar around Cross' neck and smoke rose up from it. It wasn't much, but enough to stun him and he fell over onto the floor, staring up at the ceiling and only able to twitch a little. Gripps rushed her, but he was hit next. Apparently Priest wasn't giving them a fighting chance after all.

Martin heard the door open, drawing Bart's attention as his own collar lit and he fell to his knees, the paralysis buckling them under him but not stealing consciousness from him. He was frozen there and for just a moment he wondered if he was going to die this way: on his knees before Priest. What a terrible way to go.

"Bartine, stand on down," Priest said as he entered, but she turned a glare on him.

"Can't. These three gotta die."

"Not today," he answered and held up a different clip. Martin hadn't noticed the collar fitted around Bart's neck in all of the chaos, but electricity jolted her hard and she fell to the floor, limp and unconscious. Priest turned his attention to Martin and that smirk made the blond Rowdy's stomach turn. He moved towards him, no fear coming from him, and he knew full well that Martin couldn't even twitch at this point. He was frozen there as the older man stopped right in front of him, leaning down in his face, that smirk still set in place. "This is your lesson, Martin," he drawled. "One you better learn fast. Riggins may run the facility, but I'm in charge of security, and that means keepin' all you freaks in line. I will do that by any means necessary."

Priest drew back, the blow landing hard in Martin's middle and stealing the breath from him. He tipped over, his body still not responding to his attempts to stay steady after the gassing and Priest stood over him, nudging him with one steel toe boot, that smirk never fading. He could hear small sounds of protest from his brothers, still frozen just like he was, and their horrible reality sunk in just a little deeper than before.

Notes: And here we go.