Warning: The second part of this chapter is very disturbing. Gore, bodily fluids, and will being forcefully removed is present. Now, you may not care. However, if you have a phobia of gore, rats, being controlled or anxiety, depression, or a late bedtime, you may want to wait. Also, if you are tired, moody, or emotionally drained. Please wait until you are fully healthy and able before reading. Thank you.
Sniper leaned back on a chair, a pipe hanging out of his mouth. He had yet to light it.
"You've got some information, B.L.U. And, as long as ya tell us the truth, there won't be any trouble. We've already been too kind by lettin' you stick around until you could heal your wound. But you've got to hold up your side of the deal."
The Blue Medic nodded, pulling a small vial of pinkish liquid from his lab coat.
"Zhis," he said with renewed energy, "is vhat your Medic is running from. Zhe only difference is zhat I haven't used it yet. He obviously has."
Demo put his elbows on his knees. "That must be one hell of a vial."
"Don't believe me? Vell, Abriss, it is vhat's in the vial zhat is so important."
Blue Medic held it up to the light, then took a syringe out of his pocket. Once he had filled it with the strange liquid, he made several whistles, which promptly called a dove to him. With a sudden movement, Blue Medic grabbed the dove and shoved the needle into its neck, holding tight against the squawking and squirming.
"Don't vorry, it vill vear off vis such a primitive creature."
Once the procedure was finished, he set the dove on the table. It started to walk about like normal, albeit with ruffled feathers. Then, with a jerk, the bird began to twist its head around, its eyes rolling about in its head. Cooing, then chirping, then screeches erupted from it. The dove would start to fly, then run head long into the table. This continued for fifteen minutes. Finally, the creature flopped down, exhausted but unharmed. Sniper and Demo looked at each other.
"What just happened?" Sniper breathed, picking up the dove and holding it in his hands.
Demo growled. "What are you getting at, ya freak?"
The Blue Medic raised his eyebrows.
"You are avare zhat your Medic and I are exactly zhe same? Furzermore, I sink you vould be better off being kind to me. I might be zhe only clue you have."
Demo, once again defeated by logic, took to playing with his lighter. Sniper put the bird back down on the table.
"What was in that vial?"
"A chemical zhat brings back memories in qvick succession in order to achieve enlightenment zhrough meticulous analyzing of zhe mind."
"In layman's terms?"
"Vis zis, you can travel into your own mind and fight your fears head on, or diagnose a mental deformity. It's a sort of X-Ray for zhe psyche."
Demo looked up again. "Let me guess - he injected that stuff into himself?"
"Zhat is my current hyposesis," Blue Medic replied. "And zhe most likely. Medics are...troubled vhis zhere mind most of ze time, and zhis vas supposed to be zhe cure. But I'm afraid I may have created zhe poison. And so did he."
"But that bird went bonkers!" Sniper cried, a cold realization hitting him. "If he's up in his brain, then what is his body doing?"
Blue Medic grimaced. "His activity decreases, but he can vander. To zhe common person, he'll look drugged or under zhe influence. Vhat vorries me is zhat he von't notice external pain or stimuli. He could valk right into a car, or stumble onto train tracks..."
Demo jumped off of the couch. "We need to tell them! They're out there without a clue!"
"That's not gonna help 'em, Dee."
"Why the hell not?"
Sniper chewed on the end of his pipe. He didn't smoke, but it helped his teeth grinding habit.
"We don't know where he is, or where he's going. All we know is that he's crazy, and that's just taking us back to square one. It'll just worry 'em. If they find him, great! We can take it to our graves. If not, we can take some of the blame offa them by tellin' 'em."
"Not qvite square vun."
Blue Medic held up three more vials, each containing the same substance as before.
"I did not come wis just a problem. I came to give you zhe solution!"
Demo looked at the Medic, then the vials.
"I don't get it."
"Just listen."
Medic took out three syringes and set them on the table next to the dove.
"I have done years of research on zhe human mind. Its memories, its flaws, its very structure. I have done all of zhe calculations, and zhere is a seventy-six percent chance zhat zhis plan vill not end in a fatal encounter."
"What are you talking about?" Sniper said, trying to put together everything in his mind. "We're not going to-!"
"Hör mir zu! Let me finish. You see..."
Blue Medic took a napkin from the table and began to right feverishly upon it. Two circles, then a line, then another circle; soon it looked like a spiderweb.
"Have you ever heard of memory links?"
The two other men shrugged and shook their heads, still at a loss.
"Simply put, it is an entire community of minds, almost like zhe relationship between computers. Zhere are "links" zhat you can form vis ozhers, but only if zhe relationship is strong. Zhat is vhy friends have zhe same mindset, family has zhe same jokes, and tvins seem to know each ozher's every sought. If strong enough, you can travel into a somevone's very mind."
Demo crossed his arms. "What has that got to do with Medic?"
"Vell," Blue Medic continued excitedly, "zhis vill allow us to travel into our minds, zhen, vis a bit of searching, ve can "link jump" into your Medic's mind. Ve can help him get out of zhe mental hole he's dug for himself."
Sniper's eyes widened.
"Your telling me that we're going to take the same drug that made Medic go crazy?"
Blue Medic laughed. "Vis many safety precautions. He vas too impatient. I can make sure zhat you vill have a nice, insanity-free trip."
"This is nuts!" Demo shouted. "We're not even sure he's telling the truth! You saw what it did to that dove!"
"This could be our only chance..." Sniper mused, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. He had to come up with a plan. He didn't want to rush into this.
"Empty your pockets."
"Vhat?"
"Do it. If you're poisoning us, and plan on giving an antidote to yourself throw suspicion, you would have it close."
Blue Medic's face was somewhere between surprised, angry, and impressed.
"Very vell."
Blue Medic took off his lab coat and took everything out of his pockets. Surgical scissors, several smoke bombs, bird seed, even a small Poloroid.
"Jeez, do you keep your lunch in there too?" Demo sneered.
"Not all of us have zhe benefit of backpacks and suits."
Sniper looked over everything, then nodded with satisfaction.
"Demo, pat him down."
The deed was done with more than a bit of awkwardness, and, by the end, both of them had turned a shade or two darker.
"Alright, are you satisfied, Attentäter?"
"Yep. All clear. Now you take it first, wait until your under, make sure you are still kickin', then take it. We've used syringes before. In our college days."
"Zhat isn't-!"
"Doc, I don't trust you like I don't trust a rattlesnake in heat. You're in our base, so you follow our rules."
Blue Medic started to say something, then stopped himself. He took the syringes and gave them to Sniper, then Demo.
"Don't vait too long. After about an hour, I von't be able to find you. Keep your heads next to mine. Bring somezing to keep zhe time and hold it in your hand. Ve can't stay longer than two days, or ve vill become severely dehydrated."
Blue Medic took his own syringe, first filling it and then holding it in the air like a cocktail.
"Für die Wissenschaft!"
The syringe went expertly into his forearm, all of the liquid draining into his bloodstream.
"I vill lay on the floor. I suggest you join me; ozervise, you may fall off or hit your head on zhe furniture."
Blue Medic walked over to an empty part of the floor and got down. He was soon flat on his back.
"You are sure you know how-?"
All of the color suddenly drained from the doctor's face.
"Scheisse."
Blue Medic's eyes rolled back into his head, and his body began to shiver. His breathing became faster, then hysterical. Goosebumps began to form on his arms.
"You good, mate?" Sniper whispered, afraid to get close to him.
But just as soon as it started, Blue Medic became calm. Demo went over to him and kicked the doctor's body with his boot.
"He's still breathing."
"Is he awake?"
Sniper scooted to Blue Medic, then put his hands on Medic's shoulders.
"Are you okay? Are you okay?"
Demo slapped Sniper in the back of the head.
"What are you doin'?"
"They taught us in training..."
"Shut up, man! What do we do now?"
Sniper filled his own syringe with shaking hands. He looked at the liquid.
"We gotta find Medic. It's our only lead."
To Sniper's surprise, Demo down next to him and started to fill his own syringe.
"You aren't going to say anything?"
"Listen, I've been through hell with you. At this point, I'm so hopped on being scared that I got brave. I've got to do this before it wears off."
"Sure, Dee, whatever you say."
When both of them had finished, they held their syringes up to their arms.
"Alright," Sniper said, "we do this on three. One..."
"Two..."
"THREE!"
Their syringes drained within seconds. Both of them quickly laid down next to Blue Medic like petals on a flower. Demo laughed.
"I just feel a bit woozy. What was all this fuss?"
Sniper laughed with him, too anxious to even think about being scared.
"Everything's just darn blurry. For a doctor, that Medic is sure a wu-."
That's the last thing either of them remembered.
*
"The world is a stage. Why can't you relax and enjoy the show?"
Medic's eyes widened as the two brothers walked across a makeshift stage. One was dressed in a dirty lab coat that was much too big for him, and the other had on a bright blue dress with an off-white bonnet.
"His beginnings were humble," the one in the lab coat announced. "His mother was but a twig, and the father had run off. But she was still determined to take care of him."
A table was brought out, one that looked familiar to Medic. Stainless steel, slight blood splatters - his heart sank into his stomach. It was his work table. The boy in the dress laid upon it, then started to scream bloody murder. The other was shouting orders to an invisible staff.
"She is in labor! We can't wait all day! Get her water and a basin!"
Those were also brought out by an invisible force, and the doctored boy took the bucket of water and poured it on his brother, who laughed a little before going back to screaming.
"It isn't working! We must use the basin!"
The boy took the basin, a hard metal bowl, an threw it at the screaming twin. A large crack could be heard, and the boy flopped over, blood pouring out of his forehead. Medic tried to cry out, but he found very quickly that he couldn't move or speak. His body was rigidly and strongly forced to watch the whole scene unfold.
"And, after a very long labor," the doctored boy continued, "but the doctors finally got themselves together and pulled out our very own Ludwig."
The boy in the dress cried out in pain; whether it was acted or not, Medic couldn't tell. The other reached up the twin's dress and pulled out a sack of flower with much theatrical difficulty. It was covered in blood, and it had a screaming face sketched onto it.
"Ah, what a joyous day! What shall you christen him?"
The injured one looked up, no color on his face except a painful splash of blood on his right temple.
"Ludwig..."
The boy laid down again, groaning.
"Jesus, you have an arm..."
The doctored twin grinned, holding up the sack of flour.
"And so it was! But, alas, the mother's nomenclature was her last decision. She died without even holding her babe. But where was baby Ludwig to go?"
Medic could feel his cheeks grow hot. But he had no choice but to watch. The table, with the boy in the dress on it, was wheeled backstage. The other twin took of his lab coat, threw it to the side, and was handed a tan and brown vest, which clashed wretchedly with his current clothing once he put it on.
"Ludwig went to a little orphanage near the capital, where most rejects and invalids wandered until they died of disease. There, he struggled to survive, using his loud cries as a baby and his quiet manipulation as a child."
A desk was put onto the stage, with the now uniformed sack of flower. The screaming face had been replaced with crude eyes and a small, straight mouth. The blood had been hurriedly washed off. The twin turned to the desk, but not before picking up a ruler from offstage.
"Now, Mister Ludwig, I heard that you have been stealing oranges from the lunch line. You filch them from other kids, then promise them pet rats."
The sack sat in quiet contemplation at the accusation.
"Usually, I would reward your trading ability, but you give them the rats all cut up and dead. Is that true?"
The sack thought of saying something, but decided not to. The boy grew angry.
"Now, now, this is no way for a gentleman to behave! I shall have to strike you if you don't explain yourself!"
The sack was too terrified to speak. The boy lifted his ruler, than brought it down with almost inhuman force. It smacked its target with a sickening squelch. The blow had caused the sack to split open at the sides, revealing a rotting mound of dead rats, white with mold and maggots. Several of them fell onto the stage, more liquid than flesh. Medic could feel bile building up in his throat. In all of his years in practice, legal and illegal, he had never seen anything so disgusting. But his eyes refused to close.
"There!" the boy yelled. "The criminal has been caught with the evidence! This is the final straw! We cannot house such wretches!"
The other boy came onto the stage, his forehead still encrusted with dried blood. This time, he had a police uniform on. He dragged the sack roughly off the stage, pausing every once in a while to hit it with a tiny wooden baton.
"It's juvie for you, laddie!"
The boy threw the sack, which was at present very perturbed that his insides were falling out. It landed right next to Medic, oozing over his unflinching lap. One of the boys yelled to the other, stubbornly in character.
"Can we skip all that stuff about college? That's super boring - he didn't even have any cute girls!"
"Alright, fine. We can move on to the grand finale."
"Oh, that'll really knock 'em dead!"
"But first...intermission!"
They both stepped off the stage, coming back with more formal clothes and folding chairs. They sat in them while glaring at Medic.
"Could it be any more obvious?" one of them sneered. "He's definitely going to die. I mean, it would be a crime to keep him alive."
The other nodded solemnly. "I agree. He doesn't have any redeeming qualities, he has this obsession with rats, and he's very ugly too! He's absolutely crazy!"
"Should we?"
"Hot dog!"
Each of them brought out to cartons of eggs and several bunches of tomatoes. After picking the best ones from each, they started to throw them at Medic, laughing.
"Oh, isn't this fun! These are more fun than the play, and the tickets cost twenty times more!"
"Oop, I got him! Right in the kisser!"
Medic realized very quickly that the projectiles were rotten. The flesh of the rats and the food made the most ghastly stench. Medic's stomach heaved. He could feel vomit dribbling out of his mouth. The twins smiled at each other wickedly.
"Intermission over! Back to your regularly scheduled program!"
However, before the production could continue, the curtains closed, causing the boys to disappear.
"Hey! What's the big idea?!"
"Open, you fool, open!"
The curtain strained, but did not pull apart. Medic blinked, then lifted his arm. As the cries of the twins continued, he stood up shakily and ran. The wasteland went by at a shocking speed, fueled by pure terror. After what seemed like hours of running, stopping to throw up, and running again, Medic's legs completely gave out. Exhaustion completely overtook him. It wasn't long until he passed out among the dead, yellow grasses of his own mind.
