Author's Note: I had to wrestle this chapter into submission. When I was starting, I had a visual idea of what I wanted to happen and solid ideas of what emotions I wanted to hit and where I wanted them to lead, but that was it. The actual dialogue felt ambiguous, like it didn't matter what was said as long as it hit the right notes, and that made putting this together quite a challenge.

Thanks as always to KLoves2Read, especially because of the extra work she did with me toward getting this chapter together.

CHAPTER 20 - WHAT GUNTHER-HAGEN DID

Fang looked down the row of beds, chest tightening under the weight of disappointment. The rest of the Flock was here, lying stiffly on crinkly sheets, elevated on a row of spindly-wheeled gurneys. Angel looked so small and pale down at the far end of the row, and next to her Nudge was ashen and so, so still. Gazzy and Iggy were closest to Fang, tall enough that their feet dangled limply off the ends of the hospital beds.

And for several seconds, he felt paralyzed. It was only almost his whole family.

Dylan cleared his throat softly. Fang set his jaw with a mighty sniff and strode towards Iggy's bed. Rescue the Flock. Then they could find Max together. It was fine. Dylan would see that she was just on another floor or something. She had to be. He couldn't think about the alternative. He reached up to unhook the chemical drip that hung over Iggy like some bloated vulture but Dylan's warning stopped him in his tracks.

"Fang...Fang, dude, don't. It's a double-drip, and we don't even know what they're on yet." Dylan pulled one of the IV bag stands towards him, scanning the label on the smaller of two bags. His face drew tight and he looked down at Nudge. Her eyelids were half open, glassy eyes staring listlessly down her nose at her lightly parted lips. Her chest rose and fell with even breaths and the little red glow of the heart monitor that was clamped on her ring finger fluxed steadily.

Dylan shook his head, thoughts somewhere far away, before looking at Fang wearily. "It's C-twelve-H-fourteen-N-two." Fang stared blankly and Dylan grinned in a way that did nothing to reassure him. "Dormosedan. It's marketed as a horse sedative. Puts you to sleep and makes everything numb. Hans used it on me a couple of times, once when I was new and then again when I was first trying to leave him. Even with my metabolism, it always took two days to shake it off."

"Any chance you're exaggerating?" Fang's jaw tightened and he eyed his sleeping Flock again. Maybe they could unhook the drug and go find Max while they all woke up. Finding Max couldn't take too long now that they were in the building, and it would give the Flock time to come back to consciousness.

Dylan squinted up at the drip bag again, fingering the medicated pouch before poking at the plastic joint that connected everything. "They won't wake up quick enough to leave without some outside help. It always took me a couple of hours to be fully lucid, and then I still couldn't walk straight for a day." Ignorant of Fang's frustration, he twisted a plastic nut and examined the joint again before standing back, satisfied. "You can close off the valve for the drug. Just make sure you leave the saline drip on. It'll help flush their systems some."

"Great. Then we'll go find Max."

Dylan sighed wearily. "Fang-"

"Then we'll find Max." His pause was threatening, the anger rolling from his tense shoulders. He was just waiting for Dylan to give him a reason to take another swing, to have an excuse to finish the fight from earlier, but Dylan wisely shut up. Fang nodded decisively and reached for Iggy's drip, examining the frosted plastic t-joint. The valve system was simple enough, just a quick twist and then it was relegated to a regular old saline drip.

"Sure," Dylan sighed, moving around Nudge's bed to reach Angel with a glance above. "I'll just keep an eye on - oh, crap!"

Fang froze.

"No no no no no no," Dylan muttered, head tilted back as he turned underneath the ceiling. "I lost him, hold on."

Fang moved quickly to Gazzy's drip stand, fumbling with the plastic valve.

Dylan hissed, "Hide! He's about to-"

Just as Fang flickered out, a pair of sliding doors in the main lab hissed and Doctor Hans Gunther-Hagen stepped in. His nose was buried in a brown clipboard stuffed with uneven sheets of paper, all curled edges and coffee stains. He was absently clicking his pen with his thumb, moving towards the nearest desk where he stopped abruptly, eyes snapping up to Dylan.

"Oh! Oh, gracious..." He removed his spectacles from his bulbous nose with a trembling hand and wiped them hurriedly on the edge of his button-up shirt. He leaned forward to peer through the glass wall at Dylan with squinting eyes that blew wide as a jubilant smile spread across his pudgy face. "Oh, my boy! My boy, you're here! You've escaped that madman! You've come back to me!" The clipboard clattered across the desk top and Gunther-Hagen lurched towards Dylan, arms already opening for an embrace.

"Stop!" Dylan's command was booming, the intensity halting the doctor in his tracks. Fang instinctively froze where he stood, still several paces away from Angel's IV drip, and watched.

The tense silence stretched on as Gunther-Hagen's face contorted with emotion, wild and passionate and overwhelmingly confused. He shook his head as if coming out of a trance and took another step forward, halting again when Dylan raised his flat palm.

"But you are here. You've finally chosen to return to me. I do not understand."

Dylan gestured to the sleeping Flock behind him. "Let them go, Hans. I'm safe. You don't need them for ransom anymore." His voice was imploring, dripping with his typical honey-sweet charisma as he walked slowly along the glass wall to stand in the opening. Gunther-Hagen relaxed a little, seemingly mollified now that he wasn't separated from Dylan by glass. Dylan was also now positioned as a protective barrier between the madman and his captives. Fang let loose a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Let them go."

Hans looked dazed, nodding twice before shaking his head fervently. "No, don't you see? I'm doing this for you. I'm going to get Max for you!"

Fang's head snapped up at the mention of his wife, waiting to hear his boss' name on Gunther-Hagen's lips, but it never came.

Dylan tensed, speaking urgently, "Where is she?"

"I don't have her." Gunther-Hagen sounded truly apologetic, breaking Fang's train of thought and sending it reeling. "Not yet. But I will, I swear it. You'll have her before long and then-"

"You can't make her love me, Hans." Dylan screwed his eyes shut, speaking with trembling conviction, "She was never mine, and she never will be."

Gunther-Hagen's face lit up as if he had the best secret. "Have some faith, Dylan. I have a plan, and when it comes to fruition, you won't have any reason to stay away!" He clasped his palms earnestly, smiling like a loon as he divulged his plan. "It won't be long before she comes to rescue her Flock. I will take a microscopic tissue sample; a simple procedure. You'll have your very own Max within months!"

Fang's stomach lurched, fingers trembling as he fiddled with the IV drip in front of him, double-checking to make sure he'd closed off the right valve. Gunther-Hagen didn't have Max. How did he not have Max? Hadn't Marty-

"You're a sick man, Hans." Dylan's face screwed up, his tortured eyes glistening. "You can't just make people like...like you're mixing a milkshake."

Gunther-Hagen looked at him, wide eyed. "You're not making any sense. You have always wanted Max. I made you that way."

Dylan trembled bodily, face flushing, muscles rippling as his firsts curled at his sides. When he spoke, the devastating conviction swelled to fill the room, "I am more than what you made me to be."

The doctor laughed, wild and deranged, and slipped his hands into his pockets. "You are exactly what I made you to be, my boy. You are the perfect specimen! I wrote your very DNA, from the span of your wings to the desires of your heart. You cannot change those things."

Dylan's hair fell across his forehead as he stared down at his clenched fist, lips drawn down into a severe scowl. When he looked up again, his eyes were dark and menacing. "I am not bound to you."

Gunther-Hagen's face twisted with rage. "You fool!" He slammed his closed fist down on the desk, making the drawers rattle. "You owe everything to me! You wouldn't even be alive if I hadn't rescued your DNA from the morgue, cultivated you in my lab, made plans for you and set you up for success."

"I don't need you to be me!" Dylan cried out. Fang found himself trembling at the doctor's words, his old hatred for the scientists who shaped his body and tried to control his life boiling in his gut.

"Success which you have squandered like a petulant child!" Gunther-Hagen pressed on, completely enraged and turning a shocking shade of purple. He pointed wildly at the Flock. "Success that was stolen from you by that gaggle of beguiling geese! Ruined by Fang's short-sighted selfishness! Ravaged by Maximum's insufferable attitude!" His face twisted in anguish and he turned to hunch over the desk.

"And here you are. Helping them," he spat out, turning his glare on Dylan, eyes hardened with spite. "You are no longer a son of mine. My son is dead!"

Fang flinched at the low blow. He felt the rising pain of being unwanted, dull and despairing, and something the Flock was never a stranger to.

"I am not your son!" Dylan cried and beat his fist on the glass by his head, sending thunderous ripples along the wall. "I was never your son!"

Gunther-Hagen's expression became wistful, tightening at the corners of his eyes. "You could have had her, you know. You were so close, if only you had reached out to take it. You would have been so good for her. So much better than Fang ever was." The wistful look vanished, covered by a boiling anger as his fingers dug into the paper on his clipboard. "He turned her into his bitch and didn't think twice about whether he deserved to have any of it."

Rage surged, popped, coursed through Fang. He whipped around, bristling wings unfolding fiercely. He stumbled when the ridge of one wing connected with Angel's IV stand, sending it swinging towards the floor in a terrifying arc. He dove to catch it.

The movement of the stand caught Gunther-Hagen's crazed eye. He cocked his head in puzzlement, staring at the floating metal pole. It hovered, suspended above the floor at an impossible angle.

Fang froze, his heart in his mouth, his hold on his Imperceptibility tenuous. His palms felt sweaty against the cold metal. Dylan's eyes, still fixed upon Gunther-Hagen, were wide with horror.

The moment the doctor's epiphany struck, the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

"You!" Gunther-Hagen's crazed yell ricocheted off the massive glass pane, voice distorted with madness. He laughed, a soft chuckle at first, growing into a chortling guffaw and then twisting into a snicker. "You have eluded me across oceans, and now you are here of your own volition?"

Fang seethed, stuttering back into visibility and letting the IV stand fall from where he was crouched. "I thought you had Max!"

Gunther-Hagen rolled his eyes and turned on Dylan, lips pursed, shaking his head. "Just when I thought that you could sink no lower. How did he convince you to work with him? Hmm? What lies did he fill your head with? How stupid can you get?" He slammed his flat palm on the desk and turned back to Fang. "And you...You are the worst coward of all, hiding like a child behind your cloak."

"And you've been using Marty to do your dirty work!" Fang lurched to his feet, skin hot with anger. He strode with wide steps and swinging arms toward the opening in the glass where Dylan still stood on guard.

The doctor hesitated, brows rippling in confusion. "I-I'm sorry, who?"

"My boss," Fang snarled, shoving past Dylan and stepping into the main room. "You've been working with Martin Dayburn to-"

"Lies!" the doctor bellowed, indignant, face twisting with passion. "I've done it all myself! I don't need any help, never needed any help, to take care of my child! This is all my work, and duplicating Maximum will be my magnum opus!"

"Tell me where the fuck she is!" It was the only thing he could think, spilling harshly through his lips as he rushed toward Gunther-Hagen with curling fists.

The doctor's blazing eyes locked on his, windows into the depths of hell framed by sparse-plucked lashes and bloodshot whites that made Fang falter. He stopped less than halfway across the room, frozen like a frightened opossum, still separated from the doctor by a few desks and almost twenty feet of carpeting.

"You... You diseased pigeon! You are unfit for your existence!" Gunther-Hagen turned, muttering, to the tall acid cabinet behind him, wrenching the door open and revealing shelves of ammunition, grenades, oil and lighter fluid. The insides of the doors were lined with hooks cradling an impressive assortment of weapons, both manual and automatic.

Dylan just about choked. "Hans, what is this?"

Gunther-Hagen ignored him, yanking a long, narrow rod from the middle of the rack and muttering about bones and burning and credit where credit was due. He cried out in frustration when the long hose at the butt sent grenades tumbling to the floor. There was a metallic screech as he tried to pull a small gas tank out by tugging on the hose, but there was too much in the way. He gave up with a growl and turned back to Fang, clutching the barrel of the flamethrower to his chest.

Dylan shook his head, wide-eyed, and repeated shakily, "Hans, what are you doing?"

The doctor turned to Dylan with a sickening grin, teeth flashing obscenely. "I'm securing your future!"

There was a metallic click as he switched the gun to standby mode. Blue flames glowed inside of the nozzle at the end. Fang could smell the acrid stench of the propane, even yards away.

Then Gunther-Hagen depressed the trigger, gun pointed to the vaulted concrete ceiling above. A roaring plume of flame belched from the lit end, colliding with one of the industrial fluorescents and rolling across the ceiling like a luminescent thunderhead. The light shattered. A sprinkler turned on. The very oxygen was sucked out of the room.

That was when Fang knew he was going to die.

A/N:

little redhead: You're in luck, you only had to wait a day. Thanks for the review!

WithoutWings: Dylan's Sight has been great fun to write. There's so little material in the books to use, it really opens up doors. There are a few more weird Flock abilities yet to be incorporated, but none of them hold the narrative weight that Dylan's Sight does.

Nola96: Was the fight not fantastic? I loved writing that thing. In the first version, it was a pretty quick I-punch-You-punch moment, but KLoves2Read really pushed me to make more out of it and I love the end result. I'm glad you enjoyed Fang's breakdown.

KLoves2Read: Dylan not reading as a pushover is good. He's unfailingly nice, good, kind, etc, but he's still a strong guy and worthy of respect. He's giving Fang a LOT of grace because of the whole missing-wife business, but he's not meant to be a welcome mat or anything. The brawl gave him a chance to be firm.

thestupidgenius1123: I had to go back to the book more than once to make sure I got the instructions down to the IHL correct. x.x I didn't remember at all that they had to go down into the sewer to get there, and that the steps into it led down, or any of the other bits. So it's book-accurate, as much as it could be. Besides writing this relationship between Fang and Dylan, playing with weird canon elements and making them useful or functional has been one of my favorite things.

Lustrex: Imagery is fun. Gross imagery is, okay, gross, but also easy to get really descriptive with and pack a visceral punch for the reader. I like doing that. =) And maybe it's my fault for having such a complicated story, but GH didn't recruit ter Borcht - ter Borcht was blackmailing GH. Dear old Borchty, who was Switzerland-bound post-Itex, nabbed Dylan from one of his supply runs and was using him as leverage to get Gunther-Hagen to collect and deliver the Flock to ter Borcht's kennel-slash-evil torture lab in Switzerland so he could kill them all and exact revenge. Which...trying to fit it in one sentence, it's definitely kind of convoluted. I don't know what that does for the theories your brain is spinning.

Question: Fang's pretty sure he's gonna die. What do you think will happen? What do you want to happen?