[author's note] same procedure as last time – translations at the bottom [/author's note]
Misperception
Unable to escape the whirl of colors and noises even when he opened the eyes he decided it was still the dream that held him in its claws. Sooner or later it would be over, there was nothing else for him to do than to find its end. As slowly as his body in his dream would allow it he raised to his knees and looked around while darkness filled his head, separating him from the world around him. Too numb and too heavy to move in this world he stood up, eyes and ears hurting, his hands searching for the next wall to support himself, preventing him from falling down once more.
The figure in the middle of this chaotic world, it had to be the key, he was sure of it, if he could only manage to reach it... but knowing the nature of dreams he didn't expect to be able to close the distance. And he was right, with every step he took he seemed to move further away and when he almost fell over something he gasped in surprise. He closed his eyes and opened them again and the nothingness around him lost its vagueness while parts of it took shape of a table and on this table – the figure that should help him find his way back to the real world, out of his dreams and nightmares.
"Ich kenne Dich..." he whispered, and indeed, this was a person he knew from a recent past, but he couldn't find his name in the diffuse maze of his mind, no matter how hard he searched. Shadows of another life emerged from the mass of color and noise, laughing and screaming as they became darker and moved closer, long arms reaching for him, twining around his legs, his body, cold fingers touching his throat. If he didn't hurry they would drag him away and he would be lost.
He seized the sleeping man by his shoulders and shook him, screamed, yelled, still unable to name him.
"Mon dieu... you came?"
In an instant the engulfing shadows retreated, giving him free, and with a shrill yell they disappeared, only leaving the sound of myriads of glass fragments falling to the floor.
"Spy?" The Medic tried to adjust his glasses, but they were gone. He bent a bit closer and stared in the other man's face. "Is zhat you, Spy? Zhey... caught you again?"
The man coughed.
"'elp me, quick..." he urged, his voice hoarse and weak. "Ze ozer, ze fraud..." Coughing more, he tried to speak on, but his voice died away. The Medic watched him.
"You can't be... zhe Spy is vizh zhem. Zhey vill come, von't zhey? Vho are you?" This was too confusing. This man's nose was slightly swollen, part of his right eye blackened, an injury like the Spy but different. Spy was healthy, this man not. Something was wrong but he couldn't understand it, he couldn't think with those colors and all the blood dancing in his mind, yelling at him.
"Zhis is still zhe dream, isn't it? Vhat role do you play? Vhy are you here? Go avay." Impatiently, he searched for his glasses, he turned around but they weren't there. When had he lost them? He crossed the room, walking slowly, careful not to step on too many of the invisible shards lying on the floor of his dream, ignoring the groaning sound behind his back. He stopped when his boot hit something and he looked down. The knife, the very one he had taken with him when he had killed the guard. He picked it up and, carefully, he cleaned the red tainted blade on his once white coat.
The guards... weren't there more of them? Where were they? Shouldn't they be here?
Again, he staggered to the table, his arms hanging limp down his sides, his right hand tightly clenched around the handle of the knife.
He smiled, wide and triumphantly, as he looked at the man.
"You are one of zhem, aren't you? You zhink you can fool me, trick me, vizh your silly games, don't you?" He laughed and the man looked up at him in horror while the Medic raised his hand.
"Non! What is wrong wiz..." he croaked, but the German cut his words off.
"SCHWEIG! Zhis vill prove it – vhen you bleed, zhen you are one of zhem. If you don't, zhen you are nozhing but a vision of my nightmares..." With a crooked smile he set the point of the blade at the man's throat, already piercing through the fabric of his mask. "I am sorry, zhis has to end or I can't return. I have to return, you know. Or he... zhey vill be vorried. Please understand, mein kleiner Albtraum."
The body on the table tried to jerk away from the knife when the first little drop of blood trickled from a wound not much larger than the point of a needle.
"Are you crazy? Snap out it! Réveillez-vous, DOCTEUR!"
The knife fell to the floor. Medic only stared, his head hurting.
"Vhat did you say?" he whispered.
"Docteur, what is wrong wiz you? What 'appened... 'elp me!"
Suddenly, the Medic realized that this man was bound to the table. The face looked worn out and unhealthy, the lips dry and chapped. He was unusually pale.
"Ah!" Something seemed to explode in his head when his mind tried to push back the whirling nightmares. He felt sick, he wished he could lie down, on the cold floor, the cold would calm down the pain, but he refused the temptation to collapse.
"DOCTEUR!" the Spy yelled again, the word followed more coughing. "Mon dieu, moi, I really want to slap you if zat 'elps." the Frenchman sneered nevertheless.
"Spy..." On a sudden impulse he ripped the man's shirt open, grabbed the end of the mask and removed it.
"Bonjour, mon ami. Eager to finally do l'examination I skipped, non?" The Spy grinned weakly.
"Oh mein Gott... was hab ich... vhat have I done..." In disbelief he continued to stare at the man. This was definitely the Spy. But something didn't make sense...
"En tous cas vous me n'avez pas... pardon, you 'ave not freed me yet, mon docteur." Despite his desolate state Spy managed to chuckle.
"I'm sorry... sorry..." Still trying to figure out what was the meaning of this – Why was Spy here? Why did he look so different from earlier? - he tried to untie the rope around the man's right wrist, but it was too sturdy.
"'urry!" Anxiously, Spy struggled, tried to free himself, but as so many times before, it didn't work.
"Vait, vhere's zhat knife..." He was about to reach for the knife, but stopped abruptly.
"It vasn't you all zhe time! Scheiße, verdammte Scheiße!" he suddenly cursed when things fell into place. What was wrong with him, it was so obvious! How could he miss that? The "Spy" had always successfully avoided to be examined, first when Medic had been attacked, later when he assured everyone that he was alright, taking advantage of the more urgent situation with Scout.
"He... God, that's right, he never called me 'docteur'... or Soldier 'Soldat'..." More and more details flooded his mind. And Scout... Wasn't he alone with Scout several times? "He never said 'lapin' eizher..."
"'ow are zey?"
"Fine, I hope... and he looked too healzhy... healzhier zhen zhe Spy Smizh showed us... zhat was you..."
"We can discuss zis all night long, but 'urry and let's get out of 'ere!" Spy snapped, still hoarse, and his voice died away at the end of the sentence, being replaced by a spasm of coughing.
"Ah, ja, yes, sorry." Bewildered by the revelation, and shocked by his own ignorance, he picked up the knife. "I vonder, vho is zhis ozher guy?"
"Well, my dear Medic, that would be me." a deep, amused voice politely explained from the other end of the room.
x x x
He recognized the voice immediately – from that night a little while before, and from the last night, when the stranger threatened to kill the Sniper. This mocking, arrogant tone. As the steps came closer he didn't hesitate anymore, he turned around and dashed towards the man, ready to push the knife into the flesh to the hilt. Killing him, erasing this dangerous man from the surface of this planet, making him pay for bringing back all those loathed memories.
Unimpressed by the sudden attack the man dodged the knife that aimed for his throat and seized the Medic's wrists, digging his fingers into the still fresh wounds, pressing forcefully on the extensor muscle, forcing the German to relax his grip. From the open hand, the knife fell down.
Still being weakened by the drugs and the prior attacks from the guard, Medic realized, the moment he was slammed against the wall and slumped to the ground, that he was physically inferior to this strange man. A simple head to head combat he would eventually lose. Although the guard he had killed before was stronger than him, too, he had been easy to surprise, unable to adjust to the new situation quick enough. That had been the Medic's trump card, but even without recollecting the last few days in his memory he was aware of how much more dangerous this surprisingly skinny looking man was. Not only because of his combat skills, but of his intellect.
Frantically, his eyes searched for the knife, but the second he found it was kicked away by an elegant, black, expensive looking shoe. Medic didn't have the time to wonder why he noticed such an unimportant detail, he didn't have to, it became clear when he lifted his head. For a second he thought Spy stood in front of him – the same size, the same shape, even the same suit, from the shoes to the tie. With the only difference that this Spy didn't hide his face. Even without his glasses he could see the scars and he recognized the pattern at once – during his studies he had seen several schematic charts about plastic surgery and facial reconstructions. Character defining features – jawline, cheekbones, chin... even the nose had been changed.
Either this man had suffered from a severe accident or his whole face had been rebuilt. Maybe to resemble another individual, someone whose face was partly hidden under a mask so that nobody would notice the scars anyway.
Oh yes, they had been fooled, and whatever those who sent him had in mind, it had been thoroughly planned and prepared, months, maybe years ago.
A gun pointed at his head and he sighed.
"Vhy don't you just end it, right here and right now?" He didn't blink or turn away but answered the man's stare.
"Docteur...!" the hoarse – real – Spy groaned and without a warning the man swang his hand at the Frenchman's direction and fired the gun, the bullets hitting the Spy's leg.
"YOU shut up when real men are speaking, frog eater!" the man commanded with a laugh loud enough to drown the pained yell. "Next time it's your ugly head. Well, back to business." He grinned at the Medic's shocked expression and placed himself between the German and the French.
"Vhat do you vant?" Medic hissed, forcing himself to stay where he was. He wouldn't be of much use if he tried to reach the Spy and earned himself a bullet in the back.
"My, are you so eager to add more bloodstains to your pretty collection there?" He nodded at the Medic's hands and clothes with evident delight.
"I've already seen what you've done to poor Charlie. Not bad, my dear, freeing yourself, killing a man twice your strength. Did you have fun? From the wounds you'd inflicted I'd say you rather enjoyed it. Did it bring back nice memories? Say, what do you miss most?" The flicker in his eyes revealed eagerness and excitement. "The scream? The warmth of the blood? The gurgle when they suffocate from their own blood? Or is it the look in their eyes when they realize that they can't escape you? Come on, tell me!"
Aghast at the grotesque smile, the Medic moved closer to the wall, as far out of reach as he could. This man wasn't only smart and skilled, he was also at the brink of madness. They had to get out of here as soon as possible. Had the others noticed that he was gone? Were they already searching for him? How much time had passed anyway? What time of the day was it? He hoped it was already morning; somehow, his friendship with the Sniper, even more, the Sniper's interest in him, calmed him down. When he knew something about the Australian, then that he probably would hurry the others on to find him as soon as possible.
"Vhat are you talking about?" Instead of giving a direct answer, he decided to try and buy some time, prolonging the conversation as much as he could. Either until the others found them or until he saw another opportunity to turn the tables in his favor.
"Tsk, don't play dumb, my friend. This doesn't suit you. I know very well who you used to be, what you used to do. What kind of... monster... you are." Still this smug smile, but it contained something else. Was it really admiration?
"Vho are you?" Amazed by this display of emotions – aloofness, arrogance, contempt but also a strange hint of understanding, like they were kindred souls – Medic was more and more puzzled. He didn't feel like he would like to be lumped together with this kind of man. He hoped they weren't of the same kind.
"Oh, only someone who had had the honor to witness you executing your fascinating work."
As much as he tried, the Medic couldn't find any signs of mockery or teasing in those words. He examined the distorted face carefully, but it was impossible to tell how this man used to look before the alterations of his appearance. The voice, too, was completely unfamiliar.
"Should I... know you?"
Now his face was almost soft with sympathy as the man shook his head.
"Of course I can't expect that you know me. You didn't even see me, I only watched you from afar. But oh, I do know you. The traitor and slayer of your own kind, the Wunderkind with the scalpel. So gifted. I admired you so much, your skill, how cleverly you escaped the fate of your people when you solidarized with the regime." He gave a loud, thrilled laugh. "Why, you even consolidated your power by sleeping your way up! With Conti's daughter! Impressive!"
"I zhink you got some zhings vrong zhere." The Medic's eyes had narrowed as the stranger had talked on, feeling sick by the sound of his voice and the way he interpreted the events of his past. But his cold glare was ignored.
"I doubt that, I doubt that, dear Medic. Albeit I have to admit I was a bit disappointed when I learned that you betrayed the man who taught you so much. But that's of no importance. Because, Doktor, I know your little secret." His attitude had changed again, now being back to his threatening, arrogant manner. "Where is it?"
"Vhat do you mean?" Puzzled, he wondered what this was about.
"I told you, don't play dumb!" With a yell, he raised his gun, pointing it at the Medic. "Don't think I'm an idiot! I know everything about you, Conti, his men and your little experiments! That little project the Nazis only trusted their most integer, most brilliant minds with! Unfortunately, not the tiniest drop or scrap of paper could be found after Conti's death. And after your escape! Nothing! Like it never existed! I'll ask you one last time: Where is it?"
Suddenly, the Medic understood, and with that, he couldn't help laughing.
"ZHAT'S vhat all zhis is about? Vhy you stalk us, try to kill us? Zhis little secret, as you called it?"
"Idiot! My job has nothing to do with that. I just discovered it by... accident." he snarled impatiently. "Like your little affair with that low-down bastard of a Sniper."
The next second a bullet hit the wall right next to the German's head, small splinters of metal pierced through the skin of his cheek, and he coughed when he inhaled the smell of gunpowder.
"Gross! Just thinking about it makes me wish I could kill you immediately! What happened to you? The slaughterman of the jews? The prodigy of horror? You don't deserve these titles!" The disgust was plainly visible in his face and for a second the Medic prepared to die. He hadn't known that there were people calling him things like that. But nothing happened, his captor continued to talk.
"When the Sniper suddenly seemed to recover from his injuries, even attacked me, and finally ran away at a speed that simply wasn't possible for him I knew it! For a moment I hoped I had been wrong. That you still were the one you used to be, refining the formula by testing it on humans. But then I realized my mistake. Wasting something like this because of sentimental feelings. For a man. A man like that! What a disappointment."
"I couldn't care less vhat you zhink about me. Is he still alive?" he asked without thinking, fearing the worst at the malicious tone.
"Ha! Wouldn't you like to know? Well, maybe, maybe not. Maybe I'll tell you. Maybe your Spy will even have a chance to survive and I let you all go. When you finally become reasonable and tell me about the formula."
The sickly sweet smile angered the German. And he was angry with himself, how could he forget about the Spy? Whatever he would do now, he should decide quickly before the French bled to death.
Carefully, he sat up and reached into a small inside pocket of his coat. It was still there, obviously they hadn't searched him when they took him hostage. Slowly, he pulled the little, half filled bottle out.
"Are you talking, by any chance, about zhis?" He suppressed a triumphant smile when he saw the greedy gleam in the man's eyes. "How about a deal zhen?"
"I doubt that you are in the position to bargain, my friend." was the haughty answer. "What should prevent me from just firing a bullet through your head?"
"Vell..." Quickly, he sorted his options. He had to be careful or this chance would be wasted. "I hope you don't zhink I have zhe vritten formula vizh me. Vizhout it, zhis von't be of much use. Leave me alone, answer me some questions and I give you a hint vhere you can find my notes about zhis."
Impatiently he waited for an answer. They didn't have much time. He had to help the Spy. Soon.
"Sounds more interesting than shooting you and just snatching this from your stiff fingers. Go on."
'Aha, obviously, someone here likes games. Let's see if zhis helps me.'
"Vho are you, vho sent you, vhat is zhat stuff you gave me?" First, gaining information. Those would be helpful when he returned to the others. Why didn't they come?
The man cleared his throat and implied a quick bow.
"Thomas Wagner, my pleasure. Wagner will do. Well, as for who sent me... for now, I'm my own boss, so to speak. And my little magic potion, did you like it? Didn't it trigger memories?" He chuckled at the Medic's disgusted face. "Let me put it this way, in my way I'm quite the researcher myself." An air of pride surrounded him when he started to refer to his skills, his researches and genius, how he analyzed the effect of the drug mescaline, using the records from the Nazis, and finally improved it.
It was plain that he was convinced of his skills, of himself and the Medic could guess that it wasn't just empty bragging. His own project should never fall into Wagner's hands, if he succeeded in improving it, the consequences would be disastrous. Maybe this was his chance. Slowly, he shifted his balance, the small bottle hidden in his hand. He observed Wagner closely, and the moment the man rolled his eyes up, searching his memory for a more detailed information, Medic sprang to his feet, darting forward, and tackled him.
But Wagner reacted at once, realizing his mistake. He stumbled backwards, but didn't fall over. Instead, he pushed the Medic away.
"Bastard!" Wagner growled, but Medic smiled broadly, staggering, yet still standing.
"So you vant zhis, ja?" He laughed and threw the bottle as hard as he could to the ground, smashing it to pieces. The slightly viscid liquid spread out on the floor and Medic stepped on the small stain, smearing it even more up. "Zhere you have it, Dummkopf! Too bad zhis vas zhe last bit zhat ever existed! And zhe formula is vell hidden, you vill never find it. Hard luck, Thomas Wagner."
He backed away at the man's shrieks of wrath, ready to fight back as hard as he could, even when he didn't have a chance.
Wagner jumped at him, struck out and hit him in the stomach. The Medic tried to push him away, but lay already on his back, kicking at the man, trying to throw him off when two hands wrapped around his throat. But neither his legs nor hands were strong enough to defend himself.
He gasped for air, screamed, but couldn't make any sounds, only the rattling noise in his throat when he couldn't breathe anymore. When he fainted the grip loosened and the last thing he felt was a sharp pain on his chest and how warm blood seeped through his shirt.
x x x
This is... shorter than usual ^^ But this was perfect timing for a cliffhanger, raising the suspense and... ah, wtf, who am I kidding... it was a good point, yes, but I was also tired as hell and the next part will probably be longer than 1-2 pages, so I thought I might as well stop for today ^^
Expect more next week :)
Translations as they appear:
"Ich kenne Dich..." = "I know you..."
"Schweig!" = "Silence!"
"Mein kleiner Albtraum" = "my little nightmare"
"Réveillez-vous.." = "Wake up.."
"Oh mein Gott... was hab ich..." = "Oh my god... what have I..."
"Scheiße, verdammte Scheiße!" = "Shit, goddamned shit!"
"Dummkopf"= "Idiot."