Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine. Work of fiction.


Spinelli, willing himself to master his panic and the pain which blistered and burned as it ate its way through him, was only dimly aware that he had been abandoned by his malicious subjugator. A despair, unlike any he had hitherto experienced, settled on him as his body remained stubbornly motionless aside from the excruciating contractions that rippled through him, independent of whatever muscle inhibiting drug Jerry had dosed him with prior to the introduction of the virus into his system.

He was now horribly and utterly alone in his current state of inner anguish. His only compatriot, the self-same one who had inflicted him, had deserted him and he felt strangely bereft.