A/N: warning: violence, blood, death, etc. You know the drill.

...

It's a testament to the horror of their situation that the agents (and Apollo) were both relieved and very worried when the screaming finally stopped. At least, when Tim and Victoria's agony could be heard, it meant they were alive.

All four of them had been pacing their cells for hours. There was no longer anyone to supervise them, given there was nothing they could do to escape. At one point, Apollo, even while weakened by the damage wrought on his wings, attempted to punch his way through the thin stone wall that separated him from Gibbs' cell. He would have succeeded, if the guards hadn't heard the commotion. They shackled him to the barred door of his cell, so that he couldn't reach any of the other three walls. The only upside to this lack of supervision was that they could openly discuss their plan to escape. Ideas bounced back and forth and off of the stones all through the remainder of the night. Even when the dungeon was cast in an orange-red glow from the gorgeous sunrise, which Tony and Ziva could view from the high windows in their cells, they were no closer to thinking up a reasonable scheme that got all six members of their group out alive, much less all the other humans trapped within the house's walls.

The entire day passed without any word from the outside. No one came to talk to them or even to guard them. At one point, a stout little flightling came and tossed water bottles into each of their cells, but he didn't speak to them or even look them in the eye. Putting their pride aside, they gulped down the water within minutes, dehydrated as they were. It did help clear their heads and refresh them, but even Ziva couldn't think of a good way to weaponize the small plastic bottles. It wasn't until the evening was setting in did some of D'Amico's followers come for them, grabbing them roughly by the arms and yanking them from the dungeon. They were taken up a large staircase and into the main house.

This was the first time that the agents had ever seen the actual residential area of the house. The original splendor was still evident in every nook and cranny; the colorful artworks and sculptures that lined the halls, the tiled floors that reflected light every which way, the priceless antique furniture…they'd been told that parts of the house were dilapidated and in disrepair, but it was hard to imagine when they were being dragged through what felt like a museum of opulence. It certainly wasn't modern in any sense of the word, but the whole place was clean and well-lit, though perhaps it only seemed this way because of the hours they spent in the dungeon. Even the air felt better up here, as though they'd risen several thousand feel in altitude and not one floor. In their cells, the whole world was humid and warm; they were only separated from the water by a wall and a few feet of dock, so the small waves could be heard- it almost felt like they were prisoners in the hull of a boat. Despite the fact that they were being dragged down these hallways to an unknown and surely unpleasant fate, the four prisoners inhaled the cool, fresh air with some relief.

Gibbs took in every detail he could, noting every person they passed, every corner they turned, hoping that if they had the chance to escape, his memory would serve him well enough to lead them back the way they came. Their advantage was that Apollo seemed to know the mansion by heart, and was unperturbed by everything and everyone they passed.

Their stroll ended when they were shoved through a doorway into what appeared to be Thaddeus' personal study. Candelabras stood on either side of the doorway, though none of the candles were lit. The room was illuminated by regular lamps and the remaining sunlight of the waning day. The space was cylindrical, with a high vaulted ceiling. It was really quite beautiful- windows formed a semicircle around the massive oak desk, which was scattered with books and papers. From these windows one could see an exquisite view of Venice and its intricate web of canals, and at the moment, the sun was setting, and the room was bathed in golden light. Anywhere along the wall that wasn't filled with a massive bookshelf was filled with comfortable-looking furniture and a pair of marble statues of angelic creatures. One seemed demonic, the other benevolent, but they were both fitting considering who their owner was.

Said owner looked up from his desk when they entered, and gave a nod to his servants, who backed out into the hallway and closed the door behind them.

"I have food for you," Thaddeus said to the agents, gesturing to a tray of small cheeses and fruit. "I figured you would rather eat here before the ceremony, instead of in those cells."

Gibbs eyed the food suspiciously, he couldn't ignore the growling in his stomach.

"Oh, go ahead," their captor scoffed. "As though I would do anything to it. If I wanted to kill you, it wouldn't be by poison, I can assure you."

"Why have you kept us alive, if you're just going to kill us later?" Apollo asked. Thaddeus went behind him and unlocked the mechanism that kept him from expanding his wings, before removing it and tossing it to the side, no longer concerned with keeping any of them restrained.

"I need a few more able bodies for the ceremony tonight, and your three friends here fit the bill perfectly."

The agents all scowled, but he continued. "And you, well, I'm have a surprise for you before you die. Something I'll bet you'd be interested in seeing. All four of you, actually, will be interested, I'd wager…." After a loaded pause, he grinned. "So you three are federal agents, hm? I should have guessed. But you're not here on government order, that's for sure. What brings three humans, who are obviously hunters," he smiled again at the way Tony started. "All the way to Italy, and why are you staying with Apollo instead of killing him? I'm sure given his past, that he's high up on your wanted lists…let me guess, it has something to do with Timothy? Couldn't bear to murder one of your own, could you? Even if he is one of us."

Apollo hissed, and Jethro came to stand in beside him, sending a glare Thad's way. "He's nothing like you," the team leader spoke.

"Ah, so you do talk. I'm not sure I've heard your voice until now," the taller man mocked.

"What are you trying to accomplish here?" Tony changed the subject, using the same tone of voice he would use had he simply been watching Ziva threaten the printer back in their bullpen. It sounded cocky and sarcastic, but it was an old trick he once used back when he was an undercover agent, back when his life was all about getting information out of people.

"What, with the ceremony? It's something I have to do at least once a year. Of course, once you start consuming souls, you have to do it regularly to keep your strength. But at my age, and with my power…to sustain it, it takes a much grander scale of energy."

"A mass slaughter," Apollo muttered.

"In this case, there's more to it. It's a celebration and initiation of my new family. Not all of them have taken a soul as of yet. That changes tonight."

"So once a year you throw yourself a party celebrating the fact that you're gonna live forever?" Tony quipped.

"Something like that," he chuckled.

"You're going to have to die sometime," Apollo said in all seriousness. The solemnity of his words were only emphasized by the softness of his voice. But his calm demeanor seemed to anger his adversary.

"Humans have to die," Thaddeus snarled. "We do not."

"So that's what this is all about? Just stealing enough souls so that you can live forever?"

"That's one goal, yes."

"All of this preparation, all of this work so that you can keeping living…like this? Your life used to have such a purpose. You created and loved and conquered…you fought for more than just more energy to consume. Is your whole life going to be a cycle of killing and hiding?"

His former friend went to stand in front of his window and looked out over Venice, but for once, he did not answer with a blithe deflection of the issue at hand. He simply stared at the city. Still, Apollo continued.

"You were right when you said that we are not human. I don't know what that makes me, but you…you are an animal."

Thaddeus flickered his dark eyes back to where Apollo and the agents stood. His youth and height did a good job of concealing just how old he really was, though one only needed to look at his eyes to see the age behind them. Flightlings were often given away by the brilliance of their eyes, but his were so fascinating because they seemed to absorb all light, not reflect it…like a black hole.

"I said that it was one goal, not the only goal," came the retort. "If I wanted to spend my time hidden in these ruins, living my life in squalor, I wouldn't have amassed an army of followers, would I?"

"Then what do you want?" Tony spoke up again.

"To control Venice," Apollo answered for Thad, thinking back on all of the police officers and government officials that had disappeared. This wasn't a secret; it was clear from the start that Thaddeus had been slowly gaining control of the city. D'Amico's lips quirked in approval as he gave a small nod,

"Why?" Ziva asked. She'd picked up on Tony's goal to keep their captor talking, though she was also genuinely curious.

"It once belonged to my family. My real family," he snorted. "Not the messy, inexperienced children who inhabit this place now." He looked at the three humans, and not at Apollo; his old friend knew the story very well. "The people who filled this palace were all nobles. All our kind. And they were my relatives and friends. My father owned Venice. This city sat in the palm of his hand…the artists and merchants answered to him, the government, everyone…for centuries. But he's dead...they're all dead, actually. Killed, hunted down like-" he sent a bitter smile Apollo's way. "Like animals. By the way, the next phase of my plan is to find every hunter on this earth and rip them limb from limb. Starting with you three."

His gaze roamed over the three agents at this point, and Gibbs bristled under the scrutiny.

"Why did you bring us here, to your study if you're just going to kill us?" Apollo asked, trying to take the man's attention off of his human friends.

Thaddeus glanced at his clock and nodded. "Just killing time. I thought you all might want to come with me to pick up Timothy and Victoria before it's time to get things going. To be honest, I thought we'd be spending more time here before then, but if you'd like to see them, I suppose we can arrange it."

He seemed to know something they didn't, and Tony's stomach twisted as he wondered what they'd find when they saw McGee and Victoria. The screams that they'd heard over the night was enough to drive him crazy. He didn't know if he could handle seeing the injuries that went along with those screams. A glance at Gibbs and Ziva told him they felt the same way.

A buzzer was pressed and soon enough they were rejoined by the soldiers who'd brought them there. Actually, there was a good chance that these were different guards; they all had the same, absent expression, they never spoke…they were like drones doing their master's bidding, and DiNozzo was struggling to tell them apart. Thaddeus exited the room first, and this time the soldiers didn't touch the prisoners, but simply walked behind them as they followed him back down into the dungeons.

Everyone's hearts were pounding when the doors swung open and they stepped into the room where Tim and Victoria were held. They looked around, surprised at the size and height of the room, but more surprised that they didn't immediately see their missing friends. Thad walked all the way to the end of the room, and looked left and right before chuckling and waving his guests forward. Despite his condescending attitude, they did as he suggested, until McGee finally came into view.

Ziva audibly gasped. Tony resisted the urge to be sick. Gibbs' eyes had never been so wide.

There was Tim, still strung up like a puppet, but not suspended as he had been for hours the night before. He was on his knees, the chains from above pulling his wings as far as they would stretch, the ones from the ground anchoring him down. McGee's head was down, his eyes shut. He didn't seem to register that there were other people in the room. In fact, the only thing that let them know he was conscious was the shaky, uneven breathing that made his whole body shudder. He was covered in blood, though by now most of it had dried, matting his hair and making what was left of his shirt and pants cling to his skin. Even still, each cut was visible to the naked eye, not healed despite their bearer's physical strength. This strength hadn't been successful in fighting off infection either, and many of his wounds were already a puffy, angry red. A look across the way revealed that Victoria had faced the exact same fate.

The agents rushed to their friend, and Apollo, satisfied that Tim would appreciate their company, went to Victoria. Thaddeus watched as he quickly figured out the gears on the wall, and turned the crank until the chains gave slack. Victoria, who was unconscious for the moment, fell onto her stomach, her wings collapsing in a heap around her. Trying not become hysterical, Apollo removed the hooks and attempted to rip the chains on her wrists from the floor, but they were steel, and did not budge. Thad threw a pair of keys at Apollo's feet, before turning to see the agents attempt to revive McGee. Apollo unlocked his daughters wrists before gathering her up in his arms, unwilling to leave her. But he heard Tony, Ziva and Gibbs all grunt with their combined effort to release Tim, and he knew that he was needed. Laying Victoria back on the floor, he ran over to the gears on the opposite side of the room. The agents stood back and let him do his work, moving to catch McGee as he fell forward. Tony was a nasty shade of green as he pulled one hook from the feather and bone, and even the unflappable Jethro looked horrified as he did the same to the other wing. Ziva ran her cool hands over Tim's forehead, worried at how warm he was. She murmured gentle prayers, and placing her hands on either side of Tim's face, attempted to revive him. Meanwhile, Apollo handed Tony the keys to the shackles, which were removed from his wrists.

The agents' reactions would have been satisfying enough, but Apollo's horror was so delightful to Thaddeus that he couldn't do more than stand by and watch. This was the plan he had alluded to when Tim asked about what he wanted from them. Sure, he would have liked two competent soldiers, but his ultimate goal for the two young flightlings was to use them against Apollo. And boy, was he successful. Seeing his former comrade on the ground, holding the hands of his two beloved family members, seeing their barely alive, mangled forms….he was so torn up, the silent tears that streaked down his face…it recalled a time, several decades before, when Thaddeus had seen his friend do the same to his dying sister. God, did it feel great.

Apollo could sense Thad's gratification, and looked up into his face. He wasn't quite smiling; his expression was a neutral mask, but the corners of his lips were turned up and his eyes were shining in delight. It could have been mistaken for a resting face, but in it Apollo could see just how smug the man was, and he couldn't contain his rage. He launched himself at their captor, intending to tear him apart. Thad saw it coming and was ready, but Apollo had the upper hand- his fury spurred him on and as he collided with the taller man, his hands gripped his shirt and slammed him onto the floor. They wrestled for a moment before Apollo was thrown off. However, he didn't go without a fight, and he landed a punch straight to Thaddeus' ribs, gasping in breathless delight when he felt some of the bones give way beneath his hands. Thad might have been impossibly strong, but Apollo was no stranger to fighting. Still, his opponent was much stronger, and he was able to get the shorter man off of him quickly. The guards came forward and pulling Apollo away, but Thaddeus waved them off, sure that he wouldn't be attacked again.

"Come now, is this any time to fight? When your loved ones need you alive? I'd focus on the time you have left with them, old friend. It's running out."

Thaddeus left the room, though Gibbs nodded in approval when he was gone. Apollo snorted and went to pick up Victoria, carrying her over to where McGee was finally opening his eyes.

"Ziva…?" he asked, as hers were the first eyes he saw.

"Yes, McGee, it's me. We are all here."

He turned his head and saw Tony and Gibbs. "It's hot…" he moaned, his broken voice barely above a whisper.

Meanwhile, Victoria's eyes fluttered open, and a quiet whimper came from the back of her throat.

The six of them stayed like that for several minutes, the four watching their two friends labor to breathe, helpless. There wasn't much they could do to numb the pain, or even to wash off the dried blood- that is, until a couple of guards returned with a bucket of water and some gauze.

Tony was the first to look up at their approach, and his eyes clouded over in anger and wariness. If they were coming to take them away…

But the young woman and large man that approached only handed him the gauze and placed the bucket beside him. "Thaddeus wanted them cleaned up before the ceremony," the woman said, though it wasn't with the viciousness he expected. In fact, she seemed almost…sympathetic? They turned to go, and the group went to work, washing off Tim and Victoria as gently as they could without further causing them pain.

Tim, who was awake but very much checked out, yelped when the water first hit his arm. Ziva tried to soothe him, but it was clear that he couldn't really hear her. Still, they were able to get his arms and shoulders wrapped, and Apollo tore away his shirt to wrap as much of his chest and stomach as he could. It wouldn't help much- it was clear that Tim and Victoria would need serious medical attention- but at least the wounds were no longer exposed to the humid air.

As for the wings, the best they could do was wash the blood off of the feathers, trying their best to return them to their beautiful white. But blood is a pain to get off, and all as soon as Tony touched the cloth to the…gaping wound on his right wing, McGee's eyes snapped open and he cried out, the sound so loud it echoed throughout the cavernous room. Tim grabbed DiNozzo's wrist in a vice grip, his wide, feverish eyes begging even before he found his words.

"Please don't. Please."

"We have to clean it or the infection-" Ziva said.

"Let it."

"Tim, you could die…" Tony trailed off, but Tim just closed his eyes, unable to bring himself to care.

"Please…" he whispered, and some pain-induced tears rolled back into his hair. The agents and Apollo shared a look, and all seemed to agree to respect McGee's wish. So Ziva just soaked and wrung out the cloth, ignoring the fact that the once-clear water was now opaque with blood, and washed down his face.

"Victoria…" Tim said, beginning to realize where they were and what happened.

"She's here, son," Apollo told him.

"Is she…?" Tony asked, looking over at her pale face in worry.

"I'm alive," she whispered, though she could have fooled anyone on that respect. She looked over at Tim, who returned her gaze without speaking. "I'm so tired," she said at long last.

"Sleep for a while, we'll be here," Tony answered, pretending not to notice when Apollo raised his eyebrows at him. Although DiNozzo directed his advice at Victoria, McGee lowered his head back to the ground and did as his friend suggested. The two finally relaxed; while they were still in unfathomable pain, the release from their bonds and the cleaning of their cuts gave them enough respite to rest for a while.

They continued to care for the two while they slept, and although two men were posted at the door, the four were able to walk about the room, stretching their legs and continuing to think of a way to escape. An hour later, both Tim and Victoria were awake, and McGee was even able to stand on his own, albeit on shaky legs. Apollo had to pop one of his wings back into its socket, which put him back on his knees for a little while, but he was coherent and could walk around every few minutes, which was better than nothing. Victoria was able to sit up, though she elected to save her strength, leaning against the wall and resting as much as she could. It wasn't a surprise that both young flightlings were glad to hear about Apollo cracking some of Thaddeus' ribs.

A couple hours later, a large group of guards, men and women, came for them. Each of them had a large gun, fully prepared to fire upon their prisoners if necessary. The agents and flightlings were each taken by the arm and led out of the room, and none of them had to guess why.

It was time.

...

It came as a shock to McGee that the room chosen to hold the ceremony was not in the better, more refurbished half of the house. The place they were taken to was massive, however, which was probably why it was chosen. Ivy and moss grew up the walls, and one side of the room was lined entirely with massive windows that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. They were stained glass, and light from the city and from the moon, which was just appearing for the night, caused them to scatter specs of color across every surface. Given the age of the house, it would have been safe to assume that the room was once a chapel- most palaces and fortresses of this size came with an in-house place of worship- but it was not. The scenes depicted in the glass were not religious at all. Most of them were abstract patterns in various color schemes, which were beautiful, even though several were broken in places. Only three of the windows had actual scenes depicted. The middle one was a picture of an elegant flightling woman, her wings extended, looking down over the rest of the room. On one side of this scene was a picture of a solar eclipse, the glass awash in warm tones. On the other side was a lunar eclipse, with shades of blue amplified by the darkness of the night.

Under this colored light were dozens of flightlings lined up on the walls. They all looked eager, expectant, and filled with excitement, as though they were waiting for something other than this planned murder of countless men and women. They were so young, these followers. Granted, some were in their thirties, forties and even their fifties. But most were teenagers, college-aged students…young people who were most likely new to this complicated world. Young adults who were afraid of themselves, who didn't understand what was going on. They probably wondered around lost, confused- until Thaddeus found them. This youthful, striking man who was fearsome and handsome at the same time. He was self assured, knew what he was talking about, and what's more, he knew how to manipulate people. These young followers adored him so much because he did for them what all charismatic leaders do for their young, disillusioned followers. He gave them a sense of identity, and he gave them something to work towards. So many leaders throughout time have done the same thing- some achieved great things, others have achieved heinous crimes.

The floor was cracked and broken in places like a sidewalk that had been paved and then disturbed by the growth of a powerful tree. The only thing was, it wasn't the growth of a tree but the passage of time that caused such destruction. It didn't seem to bother anyone one bit, and in fact there was one large, raised area of floor, where Thaddeus stood. He sent a fiery look at the Clarks and their agent companions, making it clear how triumphant he felt. He raised his hands, asking for quiet, and a hush fell over the room.

"I don't have an elaborate speech prepared," he admitted to his audience with a smile. "There's no need for such things, when everything I'd say, you all already know. That's why you're here."

While there was no applause or cheering, the approval radiated from his followers.

"So…" he said, a smile spreading onto his face. "Let's get started, shall we?"

The next half hour was a nightmare for Team Gibbs and the Clarks, who were forced to watch, powerless, as the atrocity unfolded in front of them.

The armed men who escorted them here kept their grips on the six prisoners the entire time. With their supernatural strength, the three agents couldn't do a thing but struggle, which got them nowhere. Apollo tried to break free of the restraining hands by snapping open his wings, but they were grabbed as well, so now he had a guard holding each of his arms, and one who held down his wings. McGee and Victoria were far too weak to struggle, and while their wings were also out, the feathered limbs were allowed to droop onto the floor of their own accord, since their each and every movement brought a new wave of torture; not only did the guards not see them as a threat, but Tim and Victoria once again had to count their wings as liabilities, should they try to fight. But the very idea of moving seemed impossible, and both young flightlings wound up relying on the soldiers who held them to stay standing at all. So, they all could do nothing but look on as the first of the human prisoners was dragged into the room. Only about fifteen of D'Amico's followers were going to be "initiated" during this ceremony, which, while less than Tim had assumed, was a catastrophic amount of human life to loose.

The humans were confused, frightened, and disoriented. Who knew how long they'd been sitting in their cells, where they were most likely underfed, if they'd been fed at all. Some were crying, but none screamed. Until they were killed.

Team Gibbs and the Clarks looked on in fury, in horrified silence, as, one at a time, a human was led into the room and made to stand in the center, where each of the new initiates took turns leaping upon them. Most went straight through the heart, shoving their hands into the chest to steal the soul, while some went for the head or neck. A soul can be taken through any violent means of contact, and some seemed to have too much fun with the "violent" part.

Five people. Five individuals were murdered and hauled off before Thaddeus put a halt to the procession. The young man who was about to take his turn froze, afraid that he had done something wrong. But D'Amico simply sent him back into the line to wait, before stepping forward.

"We're coming along, and I just have to say, I'm so proud of our new members."

These new initiates, still covered in the blood of their victims, beamed while the rest of the "family" cheered them on. The ten remaining flightlings waiting to go all seemed to buzz with anticipation.

"Don't worry, everyone will get their turn," he assured them. "But I do have a pair of inspired young people to add to our line up of recruits. And I'd like them to go next. Timothy? Victoria?"

He acted as though he were inviting them to play a game, as though they weren't dragged up to the raised portion of the floor in front of Thaddeus. The rest of their group resumed their struggling at this new development.

"Tim, why don't you go first," he offered. McGee shook his head and glared. "I know you said you wouldn't, but I'll let you think again. You're both weak, and you need something to speed along the healing."

A young woman was brought into the room. The tears were flowing freely down her face. She had such a sweet, innocent look to her that broke Tim's heart.

But deep down inside, he could feel it.

That urge to kill this woman was startlingly strong. It was because he was so weak, just as Thad said. He stood there staring at the girl, feeling the energy radiating off her, knowing that the pain really would go away if he just reached for her….there wouldn't even be a mess if he didn't want. A quick turn of her neck, and she wouldn't even feel it. Hell, if he wanted to, he could just bite her throat like a vampire and drink the energy from her, send it straight into his system. He could picture all of his wounds closing up in an instant and he longed to be well again. That's what torture will do to a person. McGee was in so much physical and mental agony that his moral and ethical limits seemed like a small price to pay. In fact, it seemed like such an easy decision that the choice was almost made for him...

Wait. No. He wasn't a monster. He wouldn't kill this woman.

That's why D'Amico was doing this. He knew it's a choice, but didn't want everyone else to know. Because he would start to lose his disciples if they realized that there was an alternative to this evil. So he was trying to take the choice away so that Tim would fall into line with all of the other followers. So that he wouldn't cause disturbance amongst them. Well, McGee wasn't in the mood for this type of manipulation. He looked over at Team Gibbs, at his family, and thought about how he'd made it through so much…how he was still alive. It wasn't stealing souls, it wasn't murder. But if he were to do this, if he were to kill this woman, then sure he'd start a long career of living forever, with limitless powers…but he would lose his family, the people who gave him so many second chances at life. Who gave him a reason for living.

"No," Tim said, turning from the trembling woman in front of him and looking up at his would-be master.

The older man didn't look surprised, but disappointed. "Don't tell me you aren't even slightly inclined to do it, because I know that's a damned lie."

"I won't say I'm not, because you're right. I can feel her soul and I'm aware that I can take it. But I won't."

"Come on, son. Follow your instinct. It's what we're meant to do. You can't choose what you are."

"Don't call me son," he said. The young flightlings around him hissed and growled, angry that McGee was treating their leader this way. But Tim squared his shoulders and continued. "I..I can't choose what I am, but I do have control over who I am and what I do. It may not be a choice for you, but it is for me. I don't need this girl's soul. And I won't take it."

It was silent as everyone waited for the reaction. "Fine, then how about this," Thad said. "You don't have to kill this woman." He took a gun from his belt and aimed it in the direction of DiNozzo, Ziva, Gibbs and Apollo. "But if you don't, then I'll kill all of them."

McGee glanced over at Tony. He was only about five feet away, still held on either side. When he was healthy, Tim could jump that distance...at least with the help of his wings, he could. If he did this, there was a good chance he'd be down for the count. But then again, if he didn't…

"Don't bother," he said to Thaddeus, then promptly turned and launched himself at DiNozzo. To say Tony's eyes were as wide as dinner plates would be an understatement, and if the situation weren't so dire, the senior agent's expression would have been funny. The two fell back onto the floor, knocking Tony's assigned bodyguards to the ground as well. DiNozzo, in a terrible moment of betrayal, thought that this was the end….how awful it was going to be, to die at the hands of his best friend. He felt the hands grip his shirt and waited for the impact of the death blow, but it didn't come. Tony looked up at Tim, who was completely winded, his face scrunched up in pain, but before he could do or say anything, McGee leapt over him and wrenched the gun from one of the fallen men's hands. Before the last of his adrenaline-powered strength could give out, Tim spun and, with shaking hands, sent a bullet at the man who had caused all of this. The room erupted into chaos.