Agent 222 one-handedly tied the last knot that was binding unconscious Agents 867, 462, and 945 to each other and tugged it tight with her teeth. Propped up against each other, they merely seemed to be asleep; if you took away the ropes, they would look like an innocent bunch of kids too tuckered out from a play date. Innocent my foot, though, thought Agent 222, lamenting their lost childhood. Agent 867 had almost taken her right eye, and Agent 462 had dislocated he left shoulder. She let their heads loll against each other as she turned to Agent 457. "Is that the last one of them?" she questioned.
Agent 457 referenced the scanner. Only three dots on their floor had heart rates elevated enough to be conscious. She nodded to Agent 222. Agent 222 sighed in relief and motion over Agent 457. Agent 222 pressed her lips tightly together as Agent 457 popped her shoulder back into place. Agent 222 rolled it around in its socket a couple times, ignoring the pain. The two of them started wearily walking back towards their rendezvous, the main hall.
It physically hurt to stare directly at the main hall. What used to be an object of absolute beauty with its high-tech, changeable flooring and skillfully decorated, weekly changed, painted walls was now trashed beyond recognition. This week, the pattern of the wall was that of winter-wracked woods, with trees coated in ice that sparkled in an unseen sun's glow. The flooring panels displayed a snow covered path that tracked your footprints as you walked through the hall, and then steadily filled the imprints with new snow. The agents in charge of the flooring had even programmed it to be icy to the touch.
Now, wires poured out of sections of the wall, thanks to Ben's power, marring the snowy scenery. In other places along the walls, blood coated the frozen branched, creating somber, scarlet blossoms. All of the flooring panel were black with every other one being riddled with cracks and broken beyond normal repair. Puddles of blood too vast in size for their owners to be alive lay everywhere, the bodies mysteriously missing. In fact, every body that should have been in the hall was missing.
Agent 457 was acutely aware of the bloody footprint trail she was leaving behind in her wake. It was like a twisted version of the old flooring panels. It made her feel off, and extremely tense. She could feel that Agent 222 was, too. She gave it away with the stiff position of her shoulders.
Shallow, scraping footfalls echoed from beyond the other end of the hallway, slowly coming closer. It sounded as if someone was dragging something… or someone. "Jaguar?" Agent 222 mouthed. "Possibly," Agent 457 mouthed back. It might be Jaguar, who could have abandoned her shoes to make for a more silent approach upon enemies, but it would also be all too easy for this to be Alpha stepping into the hall, trying to catch them unaware. They froze in the middle of the hall, weapons raised. Although it was not in fact Alpha that stepped around the corner, the person that did surprised them because of what she held in her grasp.
Jaguar stalked around the corner, her whip loosely looped around a terrified, blood-stained Ben's throat. One arm was pinning his arms, the other holding the whip. The whip was slick with blood, Ben's throat beginning to match. Ben's face was flushed, and he had his small hands wrapped around the whip, trying vainly to keep it from becoming too tight.
Jaguar stopped in a large pool of blood when she saw Agent 222 and 457. She tightened her whip and Ben's breaths became ragged, raspy gulps and he fought to keep his balance in the slick, rusty liquid. Jaguar is menacing and serious, her body language shouting murder. "Back off and drop the weapons. I run this show now."
Agent 457 tested the boundaries a little. She took a miniscule step forward. "But I thought you were on our side. I saw you kill Agent 508 when he was about to slice Agent 347 in half." She took another, even smaller, step. Maybe she could reason with Jaguar is she just…
"I do not believe you heard me the first time. Drop your weapons. Back. Off," Jaguar demanded. She pulled the whip tighter. What little air Ben had vanished. He thrashed about in pain in her grip, making it worse. He let out a suppressed cry against the pain.
Agent 457 jumped back. She slowly lowered her trident to the floor, and lightly kicked Agent 222 when she did not move. Agent 222 gritted her teeth and dropped her knives, where they clattered to the floor. Jaguar loosened her hold slightly, letting Ben breath. He was limp in her grasp. "That one is easy," Jaguar began lazily, confident they wouldn't try anything, "It just would not do to bring in damaged goods. It hurts your overall performance. Especially in Alpha's eyes."
Agent 222 and Agent 457 were in quite the predicament. Take a step forward, Ben would die. Take a step back, Ben would probably still die. They began a quick, mental calculation of how violently Agent 347 would react to the news of his death. Then, it happened.
Ben raised his head weakly, his eyes full of hatred. He had no strength to speak words, but his eyes held everything he wanted to say. They spoke entire paragraphs of the powerlessness and pure, unlimited rage he was feeling right now. The wrath he felt swelled into such intensity that he grew undefined around the edges, emitting a low hum.
Jaguar stared in amazement and attempted to get a better grip on him, but to no avail. Bits of him shifted opposite ways. He softly shined pale blue. Pieces of him entirely vanished and rematerialized seconds later. Finally, he disappeared entirely from Jaguar's grip, only to appear behind her.
Unconcealed murderous intent was visible halfway across the room. Ben stooped to the floor and touched the puddle of blood. Jaguar only has time to scream before she starts to twitch as sparks play across the blood's surface. Too horrible to watch, but unable to shy away, Agent 222 and 457 witness as Jaguar falls to the floor convulsing and jerking violently.
Ben's eyes narrow to thin slits as he satisfyingly watches the life slowly fade from Jaguar's body. It continues to flop around as a corpse until Ben is sure Jaguar is dead. Ben stands up and nonchalantly wipes the blood onto his crimson-soaked shirt and staggers toward Agent 222 and 457. They immediately regard him with suspicion and scramble for their weapons. He is greeted with a trident inches from his throat.
Ben puts his hands at eye level. He awaits words, threatening or comforting. He gets neither, though Agent 457 lowers the trident a fractionate amount when she sees no malice left in his eyes, just a haggard face.
Seeing no words to be spoken, Ben lets his hands slump to his sides. He walks over to a wall and practically falls gratifyingly to the ground, technically in a position that can be considered "upright." He flinched when Agents 222 and 457 slid down on either side of him, their weapons loosely laid across their laps. They sit in a moment of silence, blankly staring at the wall and evaluating what happened.
More footsteps are heard. Agent 457's trident jerks upright. She uses it to propel herself up and stands in a battle position in front of Ben, Agent 222 next to her in similar stature. The three of them knew Ben was in no condition to fight.
Five figures ran into the hallway, unprepared for what they were about to witness. They stopped at the body lying in an unnatural heap before them. A one-handed agent and his friend fell to their knees. Darryl stood there awkwardly. A Lockup, holding Jackal's hand, spotted Agent 222. "What happened?" she rasped. Agent 222 was suddenly on the spot. How do you explain this kind of situation to the dead traitor's friends? Answer: You don't. You let someone else.
Ben, using the wall for support, stood up shakily. Together, the three of them joined the miserable group at the end of the hall. Then, Ben began to speak. His voice was low and uneven, but everyone caught his every word. "She was working for Alpha. She held me hostage and tried to kill us all. I glitched and killed her." He took the simplest, but most effective, explanation.
Jackal leaned over Jaguar's body and whispered something only Cobra picked up. "We were so close, yet we didn't have an idea that this was happening. What prevented you from telling us? At least then we'd be dead together." Cobra murmured something in agreement.
A Lockup leaned down beside Jackal. She gently touched his shoulder in comfort. He shrugged it off. "Jackal, we have to get you to the medical wing, or you'll lose your hand," she reasoned.
"Don't care," he mumbled. "Wanna stay here," he finished childishly. "Jackal…" she began, "this isn't your fault, okay, but it is going to be your fault if you lose your hand because you were too stubborn to go get it reattached."
"You're right," Jackal said, half-dejected. He straightened up slightly. "It isn't my fault," he said with newfound realization. He stared right at her. No, past her. "IT'S YOUR FAULT!" Jackal cried as he leapt toward Darryl. Cobra and Lockup barely caught his arms in time, Cobra being extra careful not to rip Hoodie's jacket off. Rage and tears were visible on Jackal's face.
"IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT! IF YOU HADN'T SHOWED UP, JAGUAR WOULD STILL BE ALIVE, WE WOULD BE HAPPY, AND I WOULD STILL HAVE MY HAND!" came Jackal's sudden angry outburst. He jerked against their grips. Agent 222, 457, and Ben watched stunned from afar.
No one had ever seen Jackal break down like this. No one except Cobra, who was grim-faced and silent. The best course of action must have been to just to let Jackal get it out of his system. "LET ME GO SO I CAN KILL HIM!" Jackal howled in despair. He frantically struggled against their grips. Darryl stood out of reach, his back against a wall, uncertain and slightly panicked.
When Jackal's shouting proved to be useless, he fell to his knees. "Let me kill him," Jackal pleaded, softer this time. He slouched forward, Lockup and Cobra holding him up. "Let me kill him," Jackal said again, but there was no longer anything behind it.
Cobra let go of Jackal's arm and Lockup followed suit. Cobra clutch the only friend he had left in the world tightly in a hug. Jackal's shoulders racked with sobs. Cobra patted Jackal's back, softly breathing soothing words to him. No one judged Jackal. They had all cried like that at some point in their lives, and somewhat envied the fact that Jackal had someone like Cobra to lean on and tell them it would be okay. The crying soon faded into oblivion.
"Jackal, you and I both know this isn't entirely Darryl's fault. That's why we're doing this," Cobra told him. Jackal mumbled something. Cobra took that as a sign that Jackal was listening. "The three of us knew the risks, and we did it anyways. Everything that has happened is just one of the worst possible scenarios."
Everyone muttered their agreements around him. "So now, this is what we are going to do. We're going to get your hand reattached, kick Alpha's butt to tomorrow, and mourn Jaguar. In that order."
Jackal said nothing. Slowly, his head went up, down, once, then twice. "I'm going to let you go now. Nod again if you are not going to hurt Darryl," Cobra said. Again, Jackal's head went up, down. Cobra let Jackal go. He rose to his feet and brushed past Darryl. Darryl recoiled. Cobra grabbed the hand from Lockup and trailed behind his friend.
Deep in thought, Lockup snapped to attention and straightened as she realized they were looking to her for guidance. Don't let them know, she immediately thought. Why, you ask? Well, it's not like there's some important secret she's hiding that could change the course of the entire story that only I, the narrator, can reveal to you.
Lockup cleared her throat. "Myself, follow me. Darryl, Ben, 222, and 457, round up everyone else and take them to the helicopter pad. We are leaving as soon as we finish." She marched quickly away with her double trailing behind, ignoring the murmurs about the major gaps in her plan.
Her stomach was a riptide of rolling emotions. This wasn't Darryl's fault, like Jackal had originally thought. It was her's. This is what she got for playing hero. Playing hero meant your friends got hurt or killed. That was one of three things she had realized long ago, and that was not okay.
Another was that the final showdown needed to be between Alpha and her. No one else. The only reason she had brought Mimic along with her was so she could take Wolfe's kid back to the heli-pad. There was no way she'd actually bring Mimic into Alpha's den. It was too risky to try.
Now all she had to do was send Mimic away. This would take some carefully crafted words, but she could do it. She comforted herself about the fact that had to lie to Mimic's face by assuring herself that no one else would get hurt this way. She began to spin the lie as the two of them walked the long path that led towards the end. For them, or for Alpha, she wasn't sure yet.
The third thing that she had realized long ago was that playing hero also meant you got hurt or killed, but that was fine with her. When the hero went in alone, only she could die.