XXX: Flatline
"We have arrived at Beacon Academy." Announced the pilot as the familiar pressure of descent encapsulated the passengers. "Please keep to your seats and wait for further instructions."
As the Bullhead approached the ground, Officer Shoat tensed. He never liked flying, or rather he was not a fan of what ended it. Landing always felt like a single step removed from crashing. He rarely traveled outside of the Vale city limits. Those times he did muster up the courage to do so were either for work related reasons or when his wife forced a vacation on them.
When they finally touched down, he felt like he could breathe again. Glancing around the inside cabin, he found that he was the only one in this predicament. Everyone else was too busy chatting or looking at their Scrolls to notice his issues.
He was grateful for the small favors.
Letting the other passengers leave first, he rose from his seat when he felt ready. Stepping out from the grey flying machine, he tried to gain his bearings. The sleek landing pad contained multiple platforms with several aircraft coming and going. It rivaled anything that would be seen at the major cities in the four kingdoms. As a prime launching space for fighters against the Grimm, there was some common sense to having this robust infrastructure in place.
"Earnie!"
The officer turned towards a seating area. At one of the benches was Miller with a raised arm waving him over. Trudging over, Shoat watched as the other man closed a folder he was reading and tucked it under his arm.
"Detective." Shoat greeted. "Good to see you again."
"Likewise. Let's walk and talk. We have a meeting in ten minutes."
As he followed the investigator out of the terminal and on to the main campus, he could not help but gawk at his surroundings. This was his first time to see a huntsman academy up this close. Beacon's remote location combined with its own internal security service meant there was never a reason for him to be out here.
It was an impressive place. Like something out of a glossy brochure for modern design. The pathways were smooth and led them through well-manicured grounds. The lane they were traveling along led to the very heart of the academy.
Teenagers and young adults lounged about in the grass studying. Their brown and checkered school uniforms made them look rather ordinary. If he had not known he was at a huntsman training site, he would have thought of them as normal schoolchildren. He had to remind himself that even the youngest among them could probably bench press a truck.
"Why are we out here?" Shoat asked while tearing his attention away from the students. "The follow up you sent me was a little light on the details."
After their conversation that morning, the officer had gotten showered and dressed. He then made the mistake of sitting down to eat breakfast, only to pass out at the table. These early morning calls were taking their toll on his ability to stay awake.
Luckily, he had not been totally out of it when he received a message a few hours later. In it, he had been told to get on the next available flight to Beacon. After double checking he had read the dispatch correctly, he had put on his shoes and made his way to the closest station.
"I got a lead on that gun that we recovered from the Howe scene. You were right about it being one of a grouping. Turns out, it was originally sold to Beacon in a bulk order."
"Wow." If Shoat had been drowsy before, he was wide awake now.
"There's more." Miller turned an eye to the officer beside him. "Another death was reported this morning. This one was clearly a homicide. The weapon involved was a tactical knife."
"Had it also been sold to Beacon?"
"Yes. We now have two suspicious casualties linked to this place." Miller nodded towards the main structure they were advancing towards. "Let's see if we can get some answers."
The building was a humongous tower surrounded in scaffolding. A construction crew seemed to be renovating it. Shoat had heard rumblings that the CCT was undergoing an upgrade to boost its area of coverage. Seeing it in action made the engineering behind the technical marvel stand out.
Once inside the tower, they marched up to an information desk. Miller let the people stationed there know that they had an appointment. After a quick check of their records, a woman with a clipboard gave them a number to a room where the interview would take place.
"Who are we meeting with?" Shoat asked as they continued further into the building.
"The assistant headmaster agreed to sit down with us. One of the big wigs. I trust that you know what we have to do?"
"Sweet talk them so they don't stall us out?"
"Exactly." The detective nodded. "Glad someone taught you that much."
They found a corner of the building that was labeled as containing conference rooms. The arrows led them to a hallway. Walking side-by-side, Miller read off the numbers as they passed doors. A little more than two-thirds of the way down, they found their spot.
Letting themselves inside, they found a large man in a red tunic at a rectangular table waiting for them. He sported a long brown mane with a medium sized beard. With his muscular build, there was no confusion about what his profession was. An unassuming smile belied his intimidating stature. He rounded the table to greet them warmly.
"Gentlemen!" The man welcomed with a wide smile and a dramatically hearty chuckle. "I assume you are the ones with the Vale Police Department?"
It was a respectable question. Shoat was technically off the clock and had ditched his stiff uniform for a polo. Detectives were free to wear anything they wanted, within reason, so Miller had elected for a simple suntan suit. As such, they looked more like businessmen than cops.
"Yes. Hello. I am Detective Miller, and this is Officer Shoat."
"Leonardo Lionheart. It is good to meet you both." He shook their hands before they all sat down. "I wish it were under better circumstances."
The Beacon official guided them over to a pair of chairs. On the table was a pot filled with a sweet-smelling liquid and several foam cups. He offered his guests a taste, but they both declined. The man himself also did not partake, making Shoat wonder why it was there in the first place.
"Mr. Lionheart-" Miller started.
"Leo. Please!" His broad chest puffed up and down as he laughed again.
"I trust that you read over the materials I sent to you."
"I did. This is a nasty business all around." He leaned back in his chair. "To think that our distinguished institution could be linked to such savagery is unprecedented."
"That is what we are trying to figure out. What exactly is Beacon's connection?" Miller placed his folder on the table and dragged out two photos. They were profiles of the gun and knife. "All we know is that these two weapons were purchased here, but not much else."
"Ah! Then let me fill you in. Both armaments in question were part of an emergency kit that we put together for our Bullhead pilots."
In other words, they were not meant for students or faculty. The policeman figured as much. The handgun had not seemed all that special when he had briefly examined it. He could only assume the same was true for the knife.
"So how did they end up in Vale?" Shoat asked.
"There was an… incident a few days ago. One of our Bullheads was broken into. A kit was damaged, and those specific supplies were taken from it."
"There were no reports filed with VPD." Miller stated and then hastily added. "That I could find."
"And you would not have. We determined that this was an internal matter and so left the investigation for our personnel to handle."
"With all due respect, are you telling us that two deadly weapons were stolen, and that you did not give our department a heads up?"
Despite couching his language, Miller's statement came across critically. His words seem to cut into the assistant headmaster. He balked for a second before regaining his poise. His irksome grin had dipped for only a second.
"W-well, we technically have no requirements to report information such as this."
He was not wrong. In most cases, it would be useless to tell VPD about a theft that occurred on school premises. They would not have been able to prosecute due to the legal shields that protected most huntsmen. It was instead left up to Beacon to find their culprits and hand out punishments. However, this was no petty larceny.
"Things have changed." Miller said slowly, as if it was not apparent. "We would like access to anything and everything that your investigators found."
"It's not that simple. There is still the matter of jurisdiction."
"Two corpses in our city says it's in our jurisdiction now." Shoat added once he realized the sweet talk approach was not working.
"True enough, but we would still be more comfortable if you-"
There was a knock on the conference room entrance that stopped their rapidly deteriorating discussion. Before anyone could answer it, the door swung open. Standing there was a man Shoat recognized from numerous news conferences and speeches.
"Sorry to interrupt." Headmaster Ozpin greeted.
"Oz! I had no idea you would be attending this meeting." Lionheart laughed.
This chuckle did not seem as boisterous as the last few he had let out. If the officer were to classify it, he would have called it wary. The headmaster brushed aside the nervous energy as he sauntered his way in and to the table.
"I saw this appointment on our shared calendar and wanted to pop in."
If Lionheart had the ruggedness of a huntsman, then Ozpin brought the peculiarity. The man wore a black dress suit and red tie combination that would have fit right in at a wake. His greying shaggy hair was parted to the side. Steely eyes peered from behind a pair of rounded, green-tinted, glasses at the images of the weapons.
Reaching across the front of his advisor, Ozpin grabbed a cup and the covered pitcher off the table. Pouring himself a healthy portion of the drink, he chose to lean against the nearby wall rather than take a seat. He motioned for them to continue while he watched and drank.
"As I was saying," Lionheart started again while keeping an eye on his boss. "This is still a problem for our personnel to solve. We would be willing to go in on a joint venture, but we would prefer a more normal process was followed. Perhaps with an agency with better resources?"
The Beacon administrator wanted a formal request from SWORD. While the agency was great at Remnant wide investigations, they were notoriously slow to act and process paperwork. Shoat's own experience with them was that unless Vale was on fire, they would work at a snail's pace.
"I'm sure we can come to an agreement." Miller began a new track. "But time could be a factor here. Whoever was involved already has a significant time advantage on us."
"Without a co-operation agreement, I do not feel comfortable with-"
"I'm sure we could give them a head start while we wait for the proper forms to be submitted." The headmaster spoke up. "What's the harm?"
"S-sir!" He stuttered. "Think of the precedence we would be setting! We don't want the police crawling all over us every time we have a small problem."
"This is hardly small." Ozpin gave a withering glance that quieted the other man. He then turned to the law enforcement personnel. "To know that equipment taken from our campus was linked to two civilian deaths is disturbing. It runs contrary to our fundamental values. I can assure you that you will have our utmost cooperation in this matter."
"Thank you, sir." Miller inclined his head. "Officer Shoat and I appreciate it."
"See that it is done, Leo. I will expect an update by this evening."
With that, the man pushed off the wall and excused himself. On the way out the door, he dropped his empty cup into a nearby receptacle. As the door closed, Lionheart's mouth was agape. Shoat, feeling a bit emboldened, pushed the attack.
"Now about what your investigators found..."
〇-〇-〇
"What is taking her so long?"
Tiny grunted. This was his way of indicating he had heard the question but that he had nothing to add to the conversation. If Mead had been expecting an eloquent or insightful thought, he was not going to get one. The former boxer was just as lost.
The fixer stared down the alleyway he had sent Kahlua to sidestep around. She was supposed to signal when she was in position and ready for them to approach. Instead, there had been complete silence.
Mead brought out his Scroll but then put it away. He must have thought of sending a message to her, but he was afraid she had not turned off her ringer. The worst-case scenario was the device going off and letting the huntsman know that he was being shadowed.
"What do you want to do?" The big guy finally asked.
If Kahlua was not ready yet, then they risked their mark running off if they tried to confront him. If she was in position, and for some reason was not able to communicate that fact, then they risked making her wait. From their interactions so far, Kahlua had not seemed like a patient person. The longer they lingered, the more likely it was she would make a mistake.
"Let's go. Keep your gun hidden though." Mead urged. "We can't afford any screw ups."
"Right." Tiny agreed as he caressed the heater in his belt.
His companion squared his shoulders. The gesture only made Mead seem more uncertain. The lump in his throat bobbled up and down as he swallowed a shaky breath.
"I'm getting too old for this stuff."
As they traversed the pavement, Tiny looked around to make sure they were alone. Not many people owned cars in Relay, so the roads were mostly for show. The street was deserted, as was usual. The one exception was a red-headed woman down the lane, but she was too far away to see what was happening.
He did notice the owner of Good Vibrations sticking her head out the window as they entered the alley. Her eyes widened and she ducked back when she noticed him. He was not too concerned. Pam knew better than to interfere in his business. But that could be a problem in the future depending on how this meeting went.
Another house call might be in order.
The two crouched to keep low. Measured movements forward decreased the noise they were making. Mead stopped them every now and then to point out trash to avoid. He gingerly slid around the debris while Tiny stepped over it.
The deeper into the back street they went, the more the bruiser became aware of the ambiance around him. Clinking and splashing noises bounced in the corridor. They were expected and comforting. Then there was a voice. It was a low rumbling groan. The duo slowed their approach and tread extra carefully. They were very near their target.
Sure enough, they found who they were looking for. The man from the photograph was beside a dumpster. One hand was pressed against the wall he was facing. The other was at his waist. Based on the moaning, Tiny could hazard a guess at where the female deputy was.
It looked like they had their huntsman right where they wanted him. This job had become much easier. Tiny reached into his waistband to pull out his gun. If they rushed, they could probably take him before he knew what was happening.
"Stop where you are and put your hands up."
The command came from behind them. Tiny was ready to turn around and start blasting, but a steady hand from Mead stopped him. Instead the scarred man did as he was instructed. Tiny mimicked his actions.
Footsteps approached from behind. As they came closer, Qrow Branwen zipped up his pants and stepped away from the wall. He nonchalantly closed the distance and came to stand before them.
Out of the side of his eye, Tiny watched as the woman from before came to a halt at Mead's right, just outside of reach. Her hand rested on her holstered gun's grip. Over her arm was a strap connected to the rifle he had lent to Kahlua. Now he understood.
The trap had been turned around on them.
"You were right, Qrow. Looks like they were trying to ambush us along with that other one." She paused and gave the red-eyed man a deadpan expression. "Please tell me you didn't actually relieve yourself over there."
"Don't ask questions you don't wanna know the answer to."
That was an idea that Tiny could get behind. Judging by the tint of green that spread on the deputy's face, she looked to agree as well. The fourth in the conversation, meanwhile, tensed. Not in disgust, but in a restrained fury.
"Where is Kahlua?" Mead asked with a barely even voice. He clarified soon after when the huntsman tilted his head. "The one you said you found."
"Her? Oh, I put her where she belongs." Branwen walked back over to the metal dumpster.
Using one hand and an inhuman strength, he tipped it over. All present winced at the thud it made against the ground. Bending down, he lifted the lid up. From inside, a bound person came rolling out. They came to a stop at Mead's feet, on their back, staring up in rage.
The buzz headed woman was covered in stains and rotten food. An odd contraption shackled her wrists and feet together. It was a solid green stock that kept her in place. A part of her trench coat had been shoved into her mouth to keep her quiet.
"Gimme a reason why I shouldn't hamstring you as well." He simpered evilly as he waited for a response.
For good measure, he kicked the metal that held Kahlua. The hit caused her to flip over so that she was now face down. She cursed with a full mouth while trying to reposition herself using the wiggling of her hips.
The thin man leaned forward as if he meant to lunge forward if given a wrong answer. Tiny coiled in preparation. He believed he could take the huntsman if it came down to a fist fight. Mead would have to take care of the deputy, but he was willing to bet he could get her before she could pull her gun.
"We just want to talk." Mead tried to lower the temperature.
The dark-haired man raised an eyebrow. He turned to the deputy. She nodded for them to start talking. He rolled his eyes and relaxed his posture. Despite the tension fading a bit, the guy still looked to be itching for a fight.
"I might have believed that if your friend here hadn't tried to bushwhack us."
The fixer looked to the thief as she squirmed about on the ground. The contraption kept her from being able to reposition her body, no matter how much she moved. She finally gave up and let her body go limp in defeat.
"There might have been a miscommunication. My associate was supposed to keep a respectable distance."
"And we are not supposed to see that as aggressive?" Asked the brown-haired woman.
"It was a precaution. You could imagine how apprehensive we would be to talk to a man with your reputation."
"Interesting. It was me you were after." He rubbed his chin. "Just who exactly are you guys supposed to be? What are you after?"
"Call me Mead. I was sent by my boss to have a chat with you." He signaled out to his companions with his head. "These two are my back-up. Again, they are here purely as a safeguard."
"Okay, so you are Mead. She is Kahlua." The huntsman pointed to the owners of those names before settling on the bruiser. "What does that make you? Sauvignon?"
"I prefer Tiny."
"Tiny?" Branwen questioned.
"It's an ironic nickname."
The boys at the gym had started calling him that because of his unusual build for a boxer. They always got a kick out of telling a recruit that their first match would be against 'Tiny' to get their hopes up. The look of horror when he would step up to the ropes was worth the demeaning moniker.
"I'm surprised you know what irony is."
Tiny growled and popped his knuckles. He refused to be anyone's fool. The huntsman merely smiled and slowly shifted his balance to be ready to react. Mead once again stepped into smooth things over.
"As for what we want," The bouncer glanced around to make sure everyone was watching him. "Well, to be frank, we were sent to retrieve a family belonging for our employer."
"Okay Frank, but I'm still not sure what that has to do with me."
"Qrow." The standing woman chided.
"What? He set me up for that perfectly!"
"As I was saying," Mead sighed. "This heirloom belonged to his father and was taken from his nephew. He would very much like it back, Mr. Branwen."
"You are going to have to narrow down what this 'heirloom' is supposed to be. I take a lot of things from a lot of people. Usually it is their dignity. Your friend on the ground is experiencing that firsthand."
Kahlua growled on the ground. If the gag were not in place, she would have attempted to bite Branwen's ankle. As it was, no one paid her any mind.
"It's a jewel encrusted ring. About yea big." He made a circle with one of his raised hands. "Does that sound familiar?"
The huntsman opened his mouth and then abruptly closed it. A look of understanding crossed his face. He patted himself down and started emptying his pants. Several lien cards tumbled out of his left pocket. From his right, he produced a harmonica and a crumpled pink piece of paper.
"Can we put our hands down now?" Mead asked as Branwen got distracted with flattening and reading the paper.
"As long as you do it slowly." She agreed. "And keep them where I can see them."
They did as they were told, allowing Tiny to rub his now throbbing arms. In the meantime, the pack rat had folded the flamingo colored form and returned it to his person. His hands moved up his body to his chest. After a quick check, his eyes widened. Reaching into his breast pocket, he removed a glimmering golden band.
"Is this what you were after?"
"Yes." Mead agreed. "Now, my employer has authorized me to-"
"Catch."
The red-eyed man underhanded the object to Mead. He reacted by thrusting his hands out to grab the jewelry before it could hit the floor. He bobbled it a few times before finally grasping it. He looked over nervously to the deputy. To her credit, she had not moved an inch, despite the sudden movement.
"You are going to hand it over? Just like that?"
"Pretty much." Branwen agreed. "Tell your boss I didn't mean to take it in the first place. It was an accident."
Tiny was unsure of how you can unintentionally take a ring from someone's finger, but Mead was not nearly as conflicted. He immediately placed it in his own outer suit pocket. While doing so, he made sure to stay in the line of sight of the armed woman so that it did not look like he was reaching for anything.
"Great. Now if we are done here, we will take our leave."
"Hold up there." The deputy spoke up. "You lot just tried to assassinate two officials. You really think we will let you leave?"
The question seemed to be targeted at the huntsman as much as it was to the three of them. Mead's eyes flicked back between the two self-described agents. Branwen shrugged as if it was no big deal.
"Technically, Kahlua was the one who tried to shoot you. Not us." Tiny added.
Said woman began vibrating with rage again. She did not like being thrown into the Bullhead engine like that. He would have been upset if he were in her shoes. Thankfully, he was not. And so, he was free of guilt.
"Forget it, Roscoe. It's not worth the headache of taking them in. Trust me."
She looked at him strangely. He merely bobbed his head. There was a disagreement on her features. For a bit, Tiny was sure they were about to be arrested anyway. She then conceded with a heavy sigh.
"Fine. If you do not want to press charges, I suppose that is your right." She returned to Mead. "I will ask that you three make yourselves scarce. I can't promise I won't lock you up if I see you around these parts again."
"No problem. We will be returning to Vale."
That would be a slight problem for Tiny, since he lived within Relay's borders. However, it was a big town. It would not be too hard to avoid her if he stayed away from downtown. He also had the Sheriff in his back pocket. One call would get her off his back.
Branwen kneeled by Kahlua and touched the device to release her from its grasp. As soon as she was free, she rolled away from him. The man winked as he lifted the restraints up. With an unseen click, they transformed into a humongous sword he leaned on. She glared at him while removing the cloth from her mouth.
"Have we met before?" The man looked her up and down with curiosity. "You look familiar."
"Can't say that we have." Kahlua, for some reason, answered with a deeper voice.
The huntsman narrowed his eyes further. She scrambled to her feet and retreated behind her compatriots. Mead stepped forward and carefully pulled out his wallet. At first, Tiny thought he was about to give out money. Instead, he drew a business card.
"Here is my boss's number. He would be interested in talking to you directly if you change your mind about wanting something in exchange for the ring."
"Whatever." He rolled his eyes but tucked the card away into his front pocket.
"Pleasure doing business with you."
Mead beckoned for Tiny and Kahlua to follow him out. The thief was way ahead of them, already halfway out of the alleyway. Looking back, Tiny saw that Branwen was still watching them. His hand still gripped his blade tightly. The deputy was also clutching the confiscated rifle he had borrowed from Wendeval.
"So, Kahlua." Mead started. Her shoulders hunched up. "You mind telling me what that was all about back there?"
〇-〇-〇
"How are you feeling today Mr. Barrett?"
"Like I was shot." Drawled the bedded man.
Raúl smirked at the statement as he went about checking the patient's bandages. The wound itself had been cleaned rather thoroughly already. That made for a simple task of keeping a lookout for signs of an infection. This was one of many duties the doctor had delegated to his scheduler.
"Other than that, though. Any new pains? Irregularities?"
"He said his mouth was dry a little while ago." Added the man's girlfriend, Lavender if he recalled correctly, who was sitting in the corner. "I've also noticed he has been dozing off a lot, even while we are speaking."
The assistant hummed as he peeled back the wrappings. Beneath it was an injury that had already started the process of closing. The skin around it was inflamed, but no more than was to be expected. He decided that it did not need anything more than fresh gauze and a new covering.
"Okay. Your symptoms are consistent with anemia."
"That sounds serious." Lavender gasped.
"It would be if we did not know the root cause." He held up the stained gauze while he recounted what he had learned yesterday. "His body does not have enough red blood cells to carry oxygen through his body. We need to replace a little of what he lost."
Having anticipated this development, he reached into the cooler he had brought with him and pulled out a blood pack. On the front was a label that had a bold A+ printed on it. The same type as indicated in Mr. Barrett's medical file. Making his way around the bed to the IV pole, he hung the pack next to a depleted banana bag.
With the tubing connected, Raúl searched for a vein to insert the needle and begin the transfusion. Before starting, he could see the only woman in the room begin to shake like a leaf. She was not enjoying where this was going.
"If you are squeamish, you might want to leave the room."
Lavender answered negatively. The creases on her forehead spoke of a different story. She would rather be anywhere else. The patient sat up to have a better look at her.
"Hun. It's okay if you need to get some air. I will be here when you get back."
The given permission was enough for her. After a quick peck to his lips, she stepped out of the curtained off area that served as the room. The patient looked inordinately pleased for her to be gone. Once he was sure she was far enough away, he began whispering to his steward.
"Could you convince her to go home for a bit? Like, say that visiting hours are over or something?"
"Trouble in paradise?" Raúl questioned the peculiar request as he flicked the arm to get the blood vessel to appear more prominently.
"A little bit." He winced at the insertion of the hypodermic needle. "She is stressing me out with her constant hovering. I want a few hours of peace."
Such situations were not uncommon. Sometimes loved ones could be a lot to handle in an emergency. Unfortunately, there was not much the assistant could do. He lacked the authority to force anyone out. The doctor, who could expel people, was out for the day.
"Not much I can do, but with any luck you will be able to go home today." He patted the man's shoulder and watched as the crimson liquid worked with gravity to descend towards the linked appendage.
"Yippee."
Sarcasm aside, the patient had been relatively low maintenance. This was despite having the most severe injury the scheduler had ever worked on. So far though, it had not felt any different from the other medical cases he had helped with previously.
A year ago, he would not have felt confident touching an injured person or giving a diagnosis. Now it was becoming second nature. All he had to do was ape back whatever Dr. Sképsis recounted to him. In the process, he had picked up many skills, even without formal medical training. Raúl could feel real pride in his adopted profession.
He continued to watch over the transfusion process for a while longer until he heard a yell from a short distance away. There were then two sets of quickly approaching footsteps. An argument was being broadcasted as the pair came closer to the two men.
"Are you here to finish the job?" Accused the familiar trill of the girlfriend.
"I just wanted to check on him." Said the other person.
The curtain drew back for a shorter brunette who was trailed by Lavender. Wearing a simple blue dress that matched her eyes, she nodded at the assistant before approaching the bedside. Stepping back, Raúl made way for the two of them.
"Hi there. I'm not sure if you remember me or not, but I helped stabilize you after…" She pointed vaguely to the exposed bandages on his torso.
"Yeah I remember." Mr. Barrett could not hold back the snort. "You were pretty much my whole world there for a bit while I was bleeding out on the ground. Thank you for that."
The new arrival brightened at the praise. His girlfriend reddened with anger. Raúl took another step back to avoid the incoming crossfire.
"She's with the militia." Lavender hissed.
"Yes." The woman nodded. "Second Lieutenant Lazuli. Most call me Laz."
"It doesn't matter what her name is! She could have been the one who shot you!"
Raúl was starting to feel like a fifth wheel in this conversation, yet he could not sneak away. While uncomfortable, he was also intrigued. This was like watching one of his mother's soap operas from Mistral. They just needed an evil twin with a mustache and an unexpected pregnancy to complete the scene.
"It wasn't her." The convalescent tried to calm her. "It couldn't have been them. They were all surrendering. In fact, I think I know who it was."
"Really?" Raúl let slip. The three heads turned to him before he clamped a hand over his mouth.
"Yeah…" Mr. Barrett drew out as his eyes drooped. He tilted his head back towards Lavender. "There were only two people I did not have my eyes on. Both were behind me. Did you open fire on us?"
"No!" She rushed to his side near the injection site. "I could never-"
"I know." He grabbed her hand and squeezed it for comfort. "There was only one other person who could have done it."
"You can't mean-" Her eyes widened. "There's no way. I was standing right beside him!"
"Were you? Or did he step away while you were focused on the meeting?"
Lavender was lost as she tried to come up with a denial. Laz contemplated the words, as it seemed she was trying to piece together the information. Meanwhile, Raúl wished he had some popcorn. Forget the pregnancy angle, an attempted murder mystery was even better!
"All I know is that as soon as I am out of here, I'm going straight to Cyan or Maggie. We will let them-" He stopped in his tracks and looked around in sudden fear.
The patient began to tremble as he took in many short breaths in succession. He clutched his arm and began to groan in pain. The woman at his side went as white as a bedsheet and looked to the part time orderly.
"Help him!" Lavender pleaded with Raúl when she realized he was not moving. Said man was in shock at the sudden decline.
"I-I don't know how!"
The assistant had never been trained for anything like this. He did not have any direct medical knowledge. Dr. Sképsis had only taught him enough to get by. They had not covered what to do if the patient started having issues like this.
"Out of the way." The faunus woman surged forward to be by his side. "I need you to breathe and tell me what you feel."
"My arm." He spoke through gritted teeth. "It feels like it is on fire."
Laz got closer to the man. She examined his arm but did not seem to find anything on the visible surface. Looking elsewhere, she froze on his face. As she stumbled a little closer to Mr. Barrett, Lavender voiced what was on her mind.
"What's wrong with him?"
"The whites of his eyes are turning yellow."
Under the low lighting, it was easy to miss. The normal clear coloring had been replaced with a sickly hue. A closer look at his arm showed that it was similarly changing in tone. Most noticeably, the color was pooling around the site where blood was being fed into his body.
An alarm began to blare. His heart monitor, which had remained steady since admittance, began to spike dramatically. The pressure gauge warning lights pulsed in warning. The militia woman moved quickly to disconnect the tubes and wiring while Lavender began to cry.
Raúl stood by in shock as bedlam occurred around him. Nothing like this had ever happened before. He could only watch in horror as the monitor flatlined.
Author Notes: No chapter next week for Thanksgiving. Maybe eventually we will get back to the regular schedule of one a week.
Chapter Next: Baby Give It Up (12/04/20)
