"Any last words?" Alpha asked. She cocked the hammer. Lockup told herself she was fine with this. She had come in here, expecting to die, and this was exactly what she planned. She only wished that she had gotten to say goodbye to everyone.
"Freeze!" said her voice, above them. A blinding light shone in Alpha's face. She squinted at the intrusion and prepared to fire, but she found that she could not move. Mimic, as Lockup, peeked out from an air-vent, holding a flashlight. With her other hand she tossed a rope down to Lockup. "Hurry, I can't do this as long as you," Mimic warned.
Lockup jumped into action and freed the child from Alpha's grasp. He sat on the floor and curled into a ball. She decided that she could deal with life-scarring mental trauma later.
Lockup discovered that when she froze someone, they might not could move, but you could move them. Go figure. She pried the gun from Alpha's fingers and tucked it into her waistband. Then she bound Alpha's hands together and maneuvered her into a kneeling position. As a last minute idea, she groped along the wall until she found a light switch.
Lockup winced as light flooded the room. The boy flinched into a tighter ball, and Alpha couldn't even blink. "You're good!" Lockup called up to Mimic. Mimic breathed a sigh of relief and tumbled down from the air duct, the light bobbing wildly, landing lightly in a cat's crouch.
Lockup only restricted Alpha's movement from the neck down. Maybe if the kid heard how horrible his mother really was, it would make the loss less severe. She pulled the gun out of her waistband and aimed it at Alpha's head.
"Mimic, I need you to take the kid out in the hall. This is something I have to do myself," she stated without glancing away. Mimic started to coax the kid out of his ball. Alpha watched with amusement. "Is there anything you want to say to him?" Lockup said through gritted teeth. "Maybe "I love you" or something?"
"Or something," Alpha huffed. "You're his mother," Lockup growled. Alpha glowered. Then she smiled nastily.
"Sweetie, listen to Mommy, okay?" Alpha cooed. She watched the boy's head pop up slowly. "They're going to shoot me, and there's nothing you can-" Alpha began choking as Lockup viciously stopped her lungs, off, on, off, on. The kid, who had been sitting dazed, jumped up and screamed, "No!"
Lockup brought the gun closer. "One more word and-"
"And what? You wouldn't shoot a mother in front of her child, would you?" Alpha grinned as the boy struggled in Mimic's grip. "Get the kid out of here, Mimic, now!" Lockup threw all consequences out the window as she froze every fiber in Alpha's body. Not a blood cell moved.
Mimic scrambled to drag the kid out of the room. "Shh, it's going to be okay," she lied to him. He fought and kicked at her. Tears streamed down his face. "No! Don't shoot Mommy!" was the last thing he screeched before he was pulled out the door.
Lockup felt her heart harden as soon as the kid was gone. She released her hold on Alpha. "One bullet left, how convenient," she purred to Alpha. She unloaded the gun to show her the bullet. She shoved it back into a random chamber and spun it around. Alpha only glared at her with loathing.
"I have only one bullet, and only one question. Where this bullet is going to go depends on how you answer." She stopped to observe Alpha. She seemed calm, as if she was still in charge. Lockup's fingers itched to slap her.
"I have a million questions, but I am only going to ask one. Why? Just, why? Why the dogs, why the Shadow Wolves, why the kid, why every single thing you've done to get here today?" Alpha had a sneer on her face. She said nothing. Lockup cocked the hammer back and fired. "Bang," Lockup said. Alpha didn't even flinch.
"I'll ask one more time," Lockup said calmly. "Why?" Lockup glanced into the barrel. She closed it again and moved the chambers over twice. Alpha laughed. "You will not get anything out of me. I've seen this trick before, remember?"
Lockup's face is carved stone. "Not this time, Alpha." Alpha had about two seconds to register the dead-serious look in Lockup's eyes. Her own eyes widened slightly, but it was more out of curiosity than fear. She nodded, slightly, respectfully, to Lockup.
There was an old custom in Triple U, that if an enemy fought with honor and acknowledged their own death, it was your sworn duty to look them in the eyes as the life left their bodies. It didn't matter how you delivered the finishing blow, whether it be poison, decapitation, or anything else. A person that dies with honor deserves to die with the respect of their killer.
Lockup stared at the ceiling as she pulled the trigger. Bang! This time, Lockup didn't say anything. Alpha was no more.
Lockup tossed the gun to the floor. She walked out of the room without a backwards glance. She didn't have to. She knew exactly what the room would look like. She kicked the door closed and found Mimic, still as Lockup, holding the boy, rocking him back and forth to comfort him. One grim face and one tear-streaked face peered up at her.
Lockup nodded. She knelt next to the kid. "What's your name, kid?" she asked him. He sniffed and rubbed his eyes. They were green, like his mother's, Lockup noticed. What color had Wolfe's eyes been? She couldn't remember.
He suddenly seemed eerily calm. No more sniveling, and no more tears. Lockup blinked. "Fange," she heard him answer. She must have heard him wrong. "Can you spell that for me?" she asked him gently.
"Uh-huh. F-a-n-g-e, Fange," he repeated. "Daddy named me, 'cept I haven't seen Daddy in a while and then Mommy told me he died." He thought quietly for a moment. "Is Mommy dead now, too?" he asked Mimic, eyes wide and full of trust.
Mimic blanched. She started by saying, "You see, Fange, sometimes-" when Lockup interrupted with, "Yes." Mimic stared at her angrily when the kid turned around to face her. He seemed sad for a moment. "Oh. Okay. So did I pass the simple-ation? Mommy said I had to act scareded. Since she's gone now, are you going to be my new Mommy?"
Acting. The kid had been acting, Lockup thought hollowly. She felt bone-weary. What had Alpha done to this kid? The concept of death to him was almost nonexistent, like it was more of a permanent vacation. She smiled at him. She hoped he couldn't see how fake it was. "Yeah, kid, you passed. Congratulations! When we get out of here, we'll talk more, okay? It's still dangerous, and I want to get you out of her in one piece." She ruffled his hair. He bounced down the hallway with energy only seven-year-olds can have.
They let Fange walk in front (his name was something they were definitely going to discuss), while Mimic and Lockup had what, as Fange called it, "grownup talk." What a way to make her feel old.
"How much did you see?" Lockup asked as she strolled beside herself. Mimic was still her, and it was getting kind of creepy. Mimic narrowed her eyes at Lockup. "Enough to know you were going to take that bullet. What were you thinking? Without you, this entire plan would have fell apart!" Mimic chastised.
Bitter bile rose in her throat. She swallowed it down forcefully. "I was thinking that it was the last bullet and that I could trust the others to do the right thing without me," she objected with resentment.
"When are you going to learn that the hero doesn't always have to die," Mimic said in frustration. Each word was a knife, cutting deeper into Lockup.
Mimic continued, either oblivious or insensitive. "I've seen your memories, and I know how often you went on missions not expecting to come back. Stop trying to sacrifice yourself. It might have been different five years ago when it didn't matter whether you lived or died, but now you have eighteen people waiting for you to return because they care! I care!" Mimic insisted. She stepped over someone's unconscious body.
"You don't have to care anymore. Your debt is paid," Lockup said coldly. Mimic gave a strangled cry of exasperation, stalking ahead to keep pace with Fange. Lockup walked behind them. Mimic and Fange stepped around a body. They were discussing with passion (arguing) which color was superior. Fange feverently took the side of orange, while Mimic personally declared blue to be best. This is why only Lockup saw what happened next.
Eyes shot open and an arm shot out, wielding a knife. With unnatural accuracy and instincts, Fange's foot went backwards and stomped unforgivingly on the wrist. The blade clattered to the floor. The almost-assaulter cried out in pain.
Lockup roughly picked him up and shoved him against the wall. Fange handed her the blade, an unnerving gleam in his eyes. She placed it against the agent's throat, right under the Adam's apple. Now he did not even dare swallow.
"Are you gonna slit his throat? Can I watch?" Fange asked innocently. Okay. Note to self: Get Fange psych-evale.
"Hello, Agent 685, you are just the messenger I need. Alpha is lying dead in her quarters. Spread the word that everybody should go home," Lockup said coolly. She dropped him when she felt his legs turn to jelly. She watched as, with dazed eyes, Agent 685 stumbled towards Alpha's quarters to confirm her claim.
~~~~~~~~~~8~~~~~~~~~~
Everyone was hanging out around the helipad when they heard footsteps. Agents 421 and 221 picked up their weapons and stood in front of Agent 103, who was tending to Agent 507 on a raised concrete platform. Agent 507's fingers twitched in the direction of her blades. Agent 103 moved them out of her reach with one hand and continued working.
Jackal picked up his sword with his right hand and went to stand in a defensive position, but Cobra pushed him back down into a sitting position and shook his head. Hoodie came over to stand by them, Masky following. Agent 222 twirled a knife around in her gloved hand next to Ben and Agent 457. The rest milled uneasily, not quite mixing.
They held bated breaths as they watched Fange and the two Lockups enter. The one that seemed to be Mimic was leaning heavily on her metal staff, starting to limp. They looked expectantly to Lockup. She nodded; they celebrated victory by cheering.
Lockup slipped through them to a lonesome corner, where Darryl stood uncomfortably among the presence of his temporary allies. She hugged him fiercely. "We did it, Darryl, now we're both free," Lockup turned around to join the rest of the crowd.
Darryl moves and suddenly there's a white-hot pain in her chest. She tries to breath in, it hurts worse. Knives invade her left lung, replacing all normal feeling with pain. Her face was a mask of fear and pain as she dropped to the ground. She makes a heavy thud as she hits the ground.
Astonished faces stare as Darryl holds a red, glistening knife. He expects to feel something, anything that will make it all worth it, but all he feels is emptiness. There's a hollow pit that opens up in his stomach as he realizes the magnitude of what he's just done. His face twists in horror of his own action.
Lockup coughs. It is a heavy, hacking sound. Blood splatters on the floor. Jack is the first to move. He rushes over and inspects the wound. The wound in itself is not that big, but the low, wet whistling sound it emits confirms his fear. He listens to her chest, where a sparodic breathing patterns says more than an x-ray could at this point. He slumps back.
Masky is fumbling with the bandages, the rest of the Pastas freaking out, but the agents know just by the whistling what the wound is. They also know that they don't have the proper supplies on hand to fix it.
Masky places a gauze pad over the wound, but not knowing what to do next, he looks toward Jack helplessly. "It's no use." Jack's voice cracked as he said it. "We have to try!" Masky demanded.
"Her left lung is collapsed, possibly filling with blood, and her other lung can't work hard hard enough to keep her blood pumping through her body. We would need supplies that are only on the second floor, and she won't live long enough to get there."
Jeff casts his eyes at Darryl. His stricken face makes Jeff snap. Jeff shoves Darryl to the floor, Darryl flails as he drops, but Jeff's small descent is contolled. Darryl makes no move to fight back as Jeff is throttling him, calling him every foul name in the book, only to start screaming, "YOU KILLED HER, YOU KILLED HER YOU TWO-FACE, TWO-TIMING, BACK-STABBING TRAITOR! I REGRET SAVING YOU! I SHOULD HAVE LEFT YOU TO BECOME A CORPSE AND ROT! SHE SAVED YOUR PATHETIC LIFE! AFTER EVERYTHING SHE'S DONE FOR YOU, THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY HER?"
Darryl's face is starting to turn blue. He still makes no move towards self-preservation, only retaining that hollow look of regret and horror. Mimic limps over and tries to pull Jeff off Darryl. "Jeff, stop, you're killing him!"
"I know, that's the point!" Jeff growls.
"Jeff," a whisper comes from the floor. Jeff stops. Darryl sucks in gaping, ragged breaths. "It's not me," the voice breaths.
Yellow eyes darken to a honey brown. Short silver hair lengthens and darkens. The dying person stretches and contorts into someone else. The dying Lockup becomes the real Mimic.
Foxfang: The next chapter is the absolute last, so I'll be nice and post it halfway through next month instead of at the end of next month like I'd usually do