Disclaimer: I do not own Venom

A/N: FINALLY! We've arrived to the chapter I've been looking most forward too, and hopefully, I managed to write it well.

Additional art will be posted on my DeviantArt account X-KuroShiro-X

Remember to read, review and enjoy!

Parasitic – 23: Déjà vu

"Open it,"

Just as she was processing that order, her eyes lingering sharply over Drake's disturbingly composed demeanor, something shifting in her peripheral vision forced her attention back to the lab cell in front of her. Whether it was due to the sleep deprivation or her excessive consumption of caffeine, she was not certain, but Evelyn swore she could feel her heart skip a few beats upon acknowledging the scene that occurred in front of her.

SYM-A02 was released from Its containment and wasted no effort in descending from its earlier state of restricted movements. The way it squirmed around like a snake on the floor was far from what she would have considered bearable to look at, much less pleasant. For the past couple of weeks, she had observed It as it had devoured her patients from the inside-out, harvested their organs for its own consumptions, and then left them for dead.

And now, knowing that it was present and uncaged in the same room as Dr. Skirth was currently locked up inside, Evelyn did not spend a lot of energy on deducing what was about to happen. But needless to say, her reaction towards such knowledge left her physically strained in a way she was unable to comprehend. She felt stiff, her fingers were clutching the fabric of her sleeves from the inside, and her breathing forgot to follow its regular intervals.

With her intelligence, Evelyn could have easily produced a list of physical afflictions that would have subsequently caused such reactions. However, none of those applied for her, because deep in her subconsciousness, she already had a suspicion of what it was. A designation for that, however, was not so easily accessible.

"Sir, are you certain that discarding is the most practical decision to make?" Keeping her voice even was not so simple as it would have been under ordinary circumstances, though these were very similar to the ones she had been surrounded by for the last couple of weeks. She had seen dozens of people get killed in front of her and she had been able to make the reports and speak on civil terms just like she would have at the General Hospital without change.

But now things seemed different, as though her voice was as strained as the rest of her body was. As much as she tried to deny the alterations, she could evidently not keep them out of the CEO's attention, as he tilted his head towards her ever-so-slightly. His eyes bore into hers despite the five feet standing between them, and Evelyn tried as well as she could to reciprocate his sense of calmness. For a moment, he said absolutely nothing. His lips didn't move, nor did his pupils avert their gaze.

It was quiet around them, as nothing could be heard from the other side of the glass in that restricted area the ecologist was currently trapped within. What she had once considered a privilege, the oncologist now found it disturbing to endure. For a moment, she felt tempted to believe that – as impossible as it would have been – time had stopped completely. However, upon acknowledging the heaving of her own chest, as well the sight of Drake blinking on occasion, she knew it was not the case.

Finally, he broke the silence by speaking again after what felt like hours of him doing the opposite. "She betrayed our cause," he stated haphazardly, barely moving at all. His demeanor reminded Evelyn of the functions of a machine; restrained, stiff, and monotonous. The same man who once managed to sway all of San Francisco with his charisma and confidence had now been rendered to little more than a cheap version of a human being.

And standing in his presence felt …. Uncomfortable.

Whilst avoiding to turn to her left to observe Dr. Skirth current crisis, Evelyn tried to reason against her execution. "Dr. Skirth's intelligence is exceptional. It would be a waste to discard it entirely," she spoke without raising her voice, managing to replicate the very same manners Drake himself was exhibiting. "I would recommend keeping her under constant surveillance in case she–"

"She's expendable,"

Her words came to a halt, as did her thoughts. For a brief moment, she could have mistaken his statement for the words produced by something non-human, but she was already aware of the fact that doing so would make her little more than a fool. She already knew first-hand from experience that even the most human-looking people could have less than humane intentions planned ahead, and this merely proved it.

Before she could organize a range of words to exploit against his decision, Drake shifted his attention back to the transparent wall, looking disinterestedly at the sight of one of his best subordinates as she struggled to keep herself alive within the confinement with the organism. His eyes held no emotion that the oncologist could detect, no sentiment whatsoever for the woman on the other side.

Evelyn narrowed her eyes at him as she recognized that look too well.

It was the same look he had had on him whenever he had watched the volunteers cease to survive the experiments. A sense of disappointment, she assumed, but this was different. He was well aware of the fact that Dr. Skirth would most likely fail to survive the bonding process with the symbiote. This was not up to chance. Surviving would have made her short existence a painful one. Either instant death or lasting pain was the plausible outcome of this.

Either way, it would have been a punishment.

And Drake knew of it.

She had seen such disregard for life before, long ago, during a time she cherished as much as wished to forget about. A time where she would not have hesitated to strike the CEO in the face for his inhumane decisions, but a time where she was as equally foolish and as she was reckless. She had been a child, ignorant and oblivious towards the cruelties of mankind and it was not until she left that place that she truly knew of the existence of "evil".

And if "evil" was an individual, then she had already seen his face. And at that moment, Drake's face reminded her too much of him.

"Dora is a widow," Drake explained without turning away from the glass. "She has a son, and Janine Skirth is mostly uninvolved in her life, so no one else will miss her. Her death will be ruled as an accident caused in the lab by her miscalculations. As far as anyone is concerned, Dora Skirth never even existed."

"It's not going to be missed just 'cause it's dead. Nothing more than a sack of meat the crows will eat."

Those words rang in her head like distant echoes within a hollow tunnel. As much as she wanted to be rid of them, Evelyn saw the similarities too clearly. She could feel her teeth borrow themselves into the insides of her mouth, drawing blood in the process. Though the painful sensation escaped her notice, the tug inside her chest that arose made up for that. Whatever respect she once harbored towards the man she had once considered to be an exceptional genius was scarce ever since she first saw his willingness to commit genocide, but at that moment, it vanished entirely.

Though she did best to refrain from revealing anything, it appeared that her attempts were in vain, as Drake glanced at her through his peripheral vision and sighed like a parent disappointed at their child for defying their wishes. He lowered his shoulders and turned to her completely, taking a step towards her with caution.

"I did not wish for it to end this way," he assured her softly. "Dora was one of our best, but she gave up on us. She would have tried to prevent us from reaching our goal, take away the only chance humanity has at surviving on this dying world. I could not give her that chance to put us to ruin, Evelyn. Please."

As the distance between them shortened until there were only a few inches separating them, Evelyn refrained from stiffening as she felt him place a hand on top of her shoulder, noticing how cold it was to the touch even through the fabric of her coat and shirt. Her green eyes met his dark ones in a moment of mutual contemplation.

"Please," he repeated. "Do not think ill of me,"

And with that, he let go of her shoulder and walked away, leaving her all alone inside the very same room where one of his own subordinates was on the verge of being killed. His departure did not immediately result in a reaction from her, but Evelyn knew that if she wished to avoid being prosecuted for evidence of involvement with Dr. Skirth, then rash actions were not something she could afford. So, as long as she heard Drake's footsteps ring in the distance from the corridors outside, she remained standing in the same spot without moving, barely blinking, and never uttering a sound.

After a few moments and the sounds had vanished, the first thing she did was to evaluate her options as she glanced up at the glass wall, blinking in surprise at seeing Dr. Skirth still standing there. The ecologist was visibly distressed about her ordeal, but she was still alive and trying her best to get away from the symbiote that was targeting her.

Even when her life was at peril, even when the chances of her surviving the bonding was slim to nonexistent, she was still trying to survive, still trying to escape. Evelyn could practically feel her eyes widening as that information was processed.

When they first met, all the oncologist saw was a subservient woman who did nothing to remind her of the bold professor she had spent many years under the tutorship of. If anything, Dora Skirth was as an unbearably weak woman.

However, in that moment, Evelyn saw something else than she had seen the weeks before. She saw someone with the will to survive; someone with sweat pouring down their forehead and a fierce determination to make it past what supposed "fate" had in store for them.

Someone who wanted to live, even when they knew all odds were against them.

Whether it was foolishness that drove her forth or something else, Evelyn did not spend any time trying to figure it out before she took a firm pair of steps towards the glass, clenched her fists together into knots and hit the bullet-proof glass with all the strength she could put into her hands.

As soon as she landed the first throws, Evelyn could feel the sharp pain as it cut through to her nerves. Her knuckles ached the most, as she could feel the agony vibrate through the rest of her appendages. Instead of taking its thickness and overall invincibility into account, she glared at the wall and continued with her futile attempts at breaking through to the surface.

Her physical capability was hardly something she wasted energy on boasting about to her colleagues, much less mentioning at all, and yet there she was; trying to break through bullet-proof material with the same nonexistent prowess.

There was a voice in the back of her head that tried to reason with her, explaining that punching it was an imbecile's resolution and that the wall could be everything from one- to three-and-a-half inches thick. If it could withstand bullets and the strength of an alien parasite, then it would most certainly be able to withstand the feeble hits of a physically incapable human being such as herself.

But even though she heard it, Evelyn would not give up. This feeling was … not unfamiliar to her. To act so recklessly in the face of the adversary even when it was obvious that she was on the losing side. If anything, she was just wasting time and energy on something akin to a lost cause.

So why did she continue when there was nothing that could be done?

"The next treatment will work,"

"It won't,"

His eyes were tired after many nights of staying awake with little to no sleep. Had she not known any better, she would have assumed that he was decades older than he truly was, lying there on top of that bed with visible wrinkles on his face and bags under his eyes that not even cheap make-up could have replicated.

Only a few months earlier, he looked as though he was the same young man she had known since they were children. The same one she had grown up with. Healthy, happy, engaged, and alive. Now … there was almost nothing left of him that she could recognize from that time. Most of his hair had abandoned his scalp, leaving only a few traits of them behind for her to count. There was but a remnant of weight left for his bones to hold onto, so little that the hospital gown could barely fit him, and that let a lot of skin come into view; including a scar that was still visible on his shoulder since he got it all those years ago from that damned bastard who tried to stab him.

She shook her head at his response, glaring down at him from where she stood next to the bed. "It will. You cannot give up yet." Whether she was trying to convince him or herself, she was not entirely certain. Still, she held onto the hope – no, the fact – that he would make it. "There are still a lot of options we could try. We just have to–"

But before she could finish speaking, he quickly sat up in the bed. "Evelyn, that's enough!"

His voice was louder than it had ever been for the last couple of months, and his proclamation successfully managed to render her quiet again. Upon seeing her reaction to his outburst, his eyes turned solemn and he laid himself back down again, sighing as he readjusted his position to a comfortable one. "Please," he whispered and placed a shaking hand over his head. "I'm just so … tired."

Her hands gripped tighter around the notepad in her grasp. "I don't … I don't understand,"

"We both know I'm not going to make it, Evie." His eyes trailed over to hers, the same green ones as her own. His lips curled into a shadow of a smile, one that she had not seen for many weeks. He lowered his hand from his head and slowly reached over to grab one of her own hands. His cold and thin fingers made her almost stiffen, but she successfully managed to avoid doing so as she gently reciprocated the gesture.

Yet the request he proceeded to announce made her threaten to leave at once, just as her mother and father had done.

"You have to let me go,"

Her chest felt like it grew ten pounds heavier, and her eyes widened. She searched his face for any sign – any indication at all – that this was just like one of the many pranks and jokes he had pulled on her throughout their lives. It had never been beneath her to joke about dark things either, so she was certain, very certain, that he was just pulling her leg.

But his face was … void of any signs. There was no tug on his lips to a smirk, no eyes rolling, no chuckle to hear. He was … He was … genuine.

Knowing this, she immediately shook her head again. "That is not an option, David."

"Death is the only option for me, sis,"

"No,"

"Evie –"

"I WON'T LET YOU DIE!"

She sharply pulled her hand away, glowering at him for longer than she had in her life. That idiot wanted to die when there was still a chance that he could make it!

She could feel tears threaten to descend from the corners of her eyes as she dropped to her knees, letting the notepad with the negative results slide from her hands and onto the floor. Already by then, her cheeks were stained from the liquid her eyes had produced, and some of the drops fell to the floor.

Letting him die was not something she wanted to do. She wanted him to live – that's everything she wanted for him. To live, get married to Eleanor as he intended, have children, grow old, and die peacefully surrounded by flowers. Not like this; surrounded by wires and fluid bags, all alone in an empty room not even their mother could enter without bursting into tears.

She looked back up at him again, desperate to search for a sign which said that he was merely joking. However, she found that nothing had changed.

"Please …" She reached up and grasped his hands on top of the mattress, lying down her head on top of them with her knees still planted to the floor. There was scarcely any warmth to detect in his hands; no life at all. "Don't leave me,"

He laid one of his hands on top of her head, patting her affectionately as he used to when they were children. "You can't save them all, Evie. That's just life,"

"Then I don't want to live,"

"Don't say that, please," he whispered softly. "You need to live. Mom and dad, they still need you,"

"But I can … still save you,"

She could hear him shake his head.

"We both know you can't, but you can still save someone else."

She wanted to snap something back at him, oppose his words, but there was nothing left for her to say. What could she say? She already … she already knew.

"Evie … Promise me you will let me go, even if it hurts."

Her whole body froze where it was, and she shook her head on top of the tear-stained spot on the mattress.

"Please," he begged her softly, lifting her head up to look at her one last time. Despite his lack of strength and overall exhaustion, he still smiled at her the same way he used to when they were children. "Just know that, no matter what happens, I love you."

Blood was smeared across the transparent surface of the wall the more times she continued to struggle against the strength of its material. Evelyn knew that the skin of her hand was practically decorated with the crimson liquid. Her efforts began to falter as she felt whatever strength remained in her body get vanquished and reshaped into exhaustion. Sweat poured down her skin and she threw her last hit against the wall, but like the countless ones before, it left nothing but another red mark behind on top of it.

Evelyn breathed for air as she took a step back, her chest heaving up and down to their uttermost extent. All she had left on the wall were just marks from her skin and blood, not a single scratch or crack was to see anywhere. If there was no other way for her to open, then …

Her eyes flickered to the side. A card-scan was there, as though it had been conveniently placed there for her to use minutes ago, and only for her to have wasted those minutes on trying to break through the glass. She exhaled through her nose, acknowledging how idiotic it had been for her not to try that option first, and proceeded to pull out her recently-received card and scan it across the screen.

For just a moment, a hint of hope was present as the screen processed the information. However, just as soon as it arrived, the hope departed as the screen flashed red and the words ACCESS DENIED met her eyes.

She was on the verge of throwing the card straight at the machine, but instead, she clenched it tightly in her grip to the point where she broke the tip of it.

"Damn it,"

BANG!

She snapped her head to the glass and, in a moment of shock, was unable to properly address the image in front of her. It was not until a second or two had passed that the oncologist was able to regain her senses and meet the eyes of Dr. Skirth, who was still alive and currently banging on the wall to gain her attention.

But other than the sounds produced by the impact her fists had with the bullet-proof glass, the ecologist failed to produce any noise. Her lips were moving, saying something on the other side which Evelyn could not make out from her side.

In the spur of the moment, she gestured to her ear and shook her head.

Dr. Skirth instantly caught onto what she was indicating and, wasting no moment, breathed onto the glass in order to produce a thick fog which she used to write over. The letters were large and mirrored, but Evelyn still managed to make out the message. Her initial thoughts of what it was supposed to spell out were "Help me" or "Call 911", but shortly afterward, it proved to be something else entirely than what she had anticipated.

HELP EDDIE

Evelyn had to read over the letters carefully to make sure that she had not read wrong, or that the message itself was simply a product of her sleep-deprived state and it was disorienting the words. However, it proved to be none of the sorts. They were genuine, and more importantly, they were hurried, which meant that Dr. Skirth truly prioritized them over the state of her own being.

Even in peril, the ecologist's primary concern laid with the ex-journalist who had successfully escaped with one of the symbiotes. Evelyn could not understand what was so important about Mr. Brock that required more attentiveness than her current situation. Now that he had already been exposed as the intruder, there was a slim chance that he would remain out of the LF's radar for long.

Thinking about it, her fingers brushed inside her pocket and pulled out the note where he had written his address. The numbers and letters were still clear to read, although his handwriting was less than ideal in terms of elegance.

The sound of another word being written snapped her attention back to Dr. Skirth.

PROMISE ME

She froze as she processed the information. Another promise? Another ridiculous range of words that were supposed to guarantee that an action would be committed. Promises were so easily broken. They were just stupid words. They had no meaning in a world like this one, where words meant nothing and actions meant everything. How could she believe that she would be able to fulfill them?

If she wanted to, Evelyn could simply leave the city and never return to San Francisco again. She could lead another life, start anew in another city as far away from the Life Foundation as she wished to. It would be easy, almost unbearably so. Change her identity, get away from the LF's radar, to simply leave. A promise meant nothing to her, nothing at all. The one she had previously given to Dr. Skirth was trivial, and she saw it through for the sake of keeping her docile.

But this?

"Promises depends on trust. Someone trusts you to keep it, and if you value that trust, you keep your word."

Evelyn bit the inside of her lip, feeling a range of things she could not describe. She clutched the note in her hand, reading over the address one more time, before she made her final decision and nodded. Even if she could not save Dr. Skirth, then she could try and save Mr. Brock instead. That was a contribution on her part; if she succeeded, then there was still a chance for them to take down the Foundation.

Perhaps … she could find him, get him someplace safe before the Foundation located him? If she was to take his evident stubbornness into consideration during their encounter back at the hospital, then he had not heeded her advice.

Dr. Skirth's face instantly lit up, something Evelyn could not understand. How could she … be happy when her life was still about to end? All because of a simple promise? Was that truly all that was required in order to reassure her? Evelyn wanted to open her mouth and ask her what was striking her as so reassuring that it was enough to put away the fear of Death, yet no question managed to escape her before Dr. Skirth started to write something else, completely oblivious to the fact that the blue symbiote behind her was closing in on her position.

I'M SORRY

TELL MY SON I

But the message was never finished because just as it was supposed to be, Dr. Skirth's finger slowly trailed down the fog-marked spot on the glass. Her eyes became distant as though they were focused on something else other than the recipient of the message, and her body abruptly descended to the floor like a thousand pound was put on top of her shoulders.

Evelyn, already knowing what was about to happen, instantly started to pound on the wall again, striking it over and over all on repeat without pause. In doing so, she wished to avert her eyes away from the scene that took place in front of her, but she found herself unable to do so. The grotesque image of Dr. Skirth's slow descent to the permanent state of death left out no details than what had been shown the numerous other times it had happened at the hand of the parasite.

The oncologist hits ceased and she took a step back, eyes wide and her bloody hands unknowingly covering her mouth in a state of shock. She had seen it happen over a dozen times over in the last couple of weeks. Everything from the eyes bleeding blackened liquid to the veins growing prominent from beneath the skin. Dr. Skirth was no exception to that rule, but for some reason, Evelyn's stomach churned to the point where she grew nauseous.

The body started to twist and contort in non-human angles, replicating the breakage of bones to the failure of the internal system. Dr. Skirth's bodily fluids began to erupt from every hole in her body; a mixture of blackened tears, snot, saliva, blood, and even urine stained the white fabric of her clothes.

Afterward, Evelyn averted her eyes away and could not bear to return her attention to the glass, as much as she wanted to. With the sleeve of her coat held up against her mouth, Evelyn got to her feet and tried to keep her breathing under control. From her peripheral sight, she saw that the figure on the other side was no longer moving. No longer squirming like a fish out of water.

No longer alive.

Dora Skirth was … Dead.

"I wasn't aware that a machine could feel things, doc,"

The clock had already struck twelve past ten, yet his mom was still not home. Luke glanced exasperatedly over his wristwatch in an attempt to see whether or not he had read the numbers right. But just like he had been the other times, he was right.

He sighed and leaned back onto the swing, finding it annoying how his mom always returned home later than she was supposed to. After countless lectures from him on how important it was for her not to overwork herself, she still went ahead and did it anyway regardless of what kind of physical state she was in. If she was sleep-deprived? She worked. If she caught a cold? She worked. If she was just exhausted or overall unable to work? Guess what – SHE STILL WORKED!

He had been outside the apartment complex they lived in for some time now, hoping to entertain himself by playing on the swings by the nearby playground across the road instead of watching television inside. Though he knew the dangers of being out too late alone, even at his age, Luke always took precautions before leaving his apartment to do something himself. The pocket-knife in his pants usually made up for any other safety measures his mother instructed him to follow which he elected to ignore.

Besides, he could easily spot the parking lot from where he sat on the swings, which served as another contributing factor as to why he preferred to stay outside if his mom was going to be late. Once he saw her get home, he could reprimand her at once instead of waiting for her to get into the apartment to do so.

And he didn't mind the solitude either. Being alone was more comforting than being surrounded by those idiots back at school who would always tease him for not having his dad around.

Yet he evidently did not remain alone for long there on the swings before a voice spoke up from behind him.

"Hi, Luke!"

He almost jumped from his seat to make a run for the apartments when a small figure sat down on the other swing beside him. Much to the boy's relief, he easily recognized the brown-haired girl with the pink tie in her hair who had so elegantly decided to graze him with her presence.

"Hi, Lily," he greeted her. "What are you doing out here? Don't you know it's dangerous to be out alone at this hour?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Hey! You're out here alone, too!"

"I'm not helpless like you," he countered her with a smirk.

"Me neither! I know where to kick a guy where it hurts." She smiled confidently upon proclaiming this, which struck the boy as a little unsettling.

"Then remind me not to get on your bad side," he commented sheepishly and scratched the back of his head. "But seriously, what are you doing here?"

Upon saying this, he noticed how her brown eyes turned sad. "My dad's not home yet. He's been gone quite a lot recently."

"Sorry to hear that," he empathized and kicked his feet to the ground in an attempt to slow down the speed. "Why is he gone?"

"He's been looking for mommy a lot,"

Luke blinked. "Your mom?"

She nodded. "A while ago, I got a letter from this kind lady that was written by my mom. When I showed it to daddy, he made a call to someone and hasn't been home often since. He says that there has been a lot of people going missing lately, and mommy's one of them,"

That was true. Although he had not been told much from her, Luke often heard rumors from his classmates that Lily's mom was a drug-addict who was constantly running away from rehabilitation centers despite the countless times Lily's father had sent her to one. And now there was the situation with people going missing recently. Mostly homeless people, but still people, and the police were looking for them.

He certainly hoped his own mom wasn't one of them.

After thinking of this for a moment, he turned his attention to the sky and noticed how the stars seemed to be perfectly aligned on this particular evening. He could spot Orion, the Cassiopeia-constellation, Canis Major and Canis Major, practically every constellation he knew of except for a few. It reminded him of how much he wanted to become an astronaut – how much he wanted to go look for things that were out there. Just like his mom wanted to when she was a kid.

He then jumped down from the swing and turned to his companion. "Come on. It isn't safe to be out now, especially with all these people going missing." He took her hand into his. "I'll walk you home, alright?"

Lily smiled as his gesture and took his hand. "Thanks, Luke,"

"And don't worry," he assured her as they began to walk towards her apartment complex, both children oblivious towards the circumstances. "My mom will be back soon, and so will yours too. Just wait a bit longer."

Roland Treece was standing by the entrance to the labs, both hands tucked behind his back as he began to approach her. For each step he took towards her, Evelyn took one back in retreat, but it was not much considering how the wall was practically behind her by a few inches at most. In contrast to his earlier demeanor, the smirk she was too familiar with had reappeared on his lips. There was no sign of his humbleness as before.

Indifferently, he shifted his attention to the corpse behind her. "It seems that dear Dora had it coming for her in the end," he commented before he returned his attention back to the woman standing in front of her. "And I had absolutely no idea that you were that attached to her. I mean –" He let out a hollow shape of laughter, removing a nonexistent tear from his eye once he was finished. "You've seen this crap for long and suddenly now are you feeling all this sentimental bullcrap?"

"You are mistaken, Treece," Evelyn responded coldly, narrowing her eyes upon meeting his gaze. "Dr. Dora Skirth was a liability; her efforts could have rendered the Life Foundation's objective unreachable,"

"Her efforts?" His tone turned sharp and his features followed behind those manners. He took another couple of deliberate steps towards her until there was but a few feet separating them. "Drake is many things, but stupid is not one of them. He knew, and so does I,"

"I do not know what you are insinuati–"

Treece proceeded to violently slam his right arm against the glass right next to her head, causing the vibrations to echo through the rooms.

Evelyn remained completely still as the Head of Security's face was inches away from her, feeling his breath, which still reeked of tobacco, upon her skin. His eyes were gleaming down at her and the smirk of his was maintained. "I'm not an idiot, March," he explained huskily. "Your knuckles are covered in blood and so is that god-forsaken wall. How are you going to explain that to Drake if you insist on pretending like you didn't give a shit about the poor cunt?"

Like always, she remained mute and did not allow her facial features to reveal a single thing for his information, though her eyes never left his.

As much as she hated to admit it, Treece was correct about one thing. As a consequence of actions irrationally, she had left signs of her involvement, and that was not so easily avoidable now that he was aware of them.

"But Drake wants to keep you. That's why he hasn't already fed you to that thing. I'm, however, not so lenient. I should just kill you now for proving to have been affiliated with Skirth's shenanigans. However …"

Evelyn could suddenly feel the hand next to her slide down her head to her neck, fingers brushing again the bandages and further down until they landed on her waist.

"Maybe I'll make an exception?" Treece suggested and started to tug on the shirt inside her lab-coat. Soon enough, she felt his cold fingers slither under the fabric and to the bare skin of her abdomen. He let out a sigh and leaned heavily his weight onto hers, placing his head into the crook of her neck. "Maybe, if you use that mouth for something good like I told you to, I'd let you go without a fuss and Drake wouldn't need to know about what you've just done?"

She let those words sit with her. Would that be a practical decision to make? If she provided Treece with the sexual favors he evidently desired, then would she be allowed to leave and finish the work she and Dora had put into motion. It was something she took into consideration, yet at the same time, she already knew that it would not be the case.

People like Treece, once they got what they wished for, they would soon turn on their word. She would be inexplicably foolish to assume that the outcome of this encounter would be anything less than it already was. Not to mention that this sensation reminded her too much of something she recalled from the past, and something she did not wish would become a recurrence.

"Treece," she said calmly, then turned her head around to stare straight into his anticipating gaze. Thought her face held no emotions that could be detected from an external perspective, her words made up for that. "You are an unbearably pathetic man,"

There was silence where there once had been heavy breaths from his side, and his hand stopped trailing up on her. Treece finally leaned back and removed his body from hers, seemingly disinterested in his attempt at forcing himself upon her anymore. Even so, his face seemed no less smug now than before, as his smirk remained plastered onto his lips.

"I see," He scratched his chin in contemplation. "You know, Drake said he'd punish me if I as much as laid a finger on you. But seeing as we're already past that, I'll just get it over with,"

He pulled out the gun from his side and pulled the trigger. A loud bang echoed through the emptiness to the point where Evelyn could feel the walls behind her shake uncontrollably.

A second later, she started to notice something wet on her shirt. Had her bloodied knuckles accidentally brushed against her clothes earlier?

Yet as she glanced down to address the situation, she suddenly found herself feeling … numb, heavy, but weightless at the same time. Her balance grew unsteady and her legs wobbled, and she struggled to make out any words, like something was creating a blockage down her throat.

"You have been a serious pain in the ass, March,"

She fell to her knees with an arm placed on top of her stomach, feeling a prominent pain grow there that outweighed the ones she felt before. Her chest began to shake for each breath she took and it seemed as though something wet was covering her shirt from the epigastric region of her abdomen.

Looking down at it, she discovered that both her shirt and her arm was wholly covered in blood. Much of it too.

"I'll say it later turned out that you had a change of heart, and wanted to get Dr. Skirth out of her situation. Unfortunately," Treece casually walked past the bleeding oncologist and tapped in the code to the doors. "She was killed by the symbiote as well, ,"

Then crouched down in front of her. "And nobody is going to miss her at all."

Suddenly, his eyes narrowed at something she held in the arm over her bleeding stomach, which he quickly snatched. "What's this now?"

Her eyes widened and she tried to reach back for it, grabbing exhaustedly for the guard's arm with a hold that was barely strong enough to wrap around a twig, but Treece easily shook her off him.

"An address?" He observed. "This your friend's place, doc?"

"T-That's …" She could barely pronounce a whisper before she started to cough, resulting in drops of blood splattering over the floor and a few landed on Treece's clothes. Still, he ignored this and read over the note one last time.

"What do you know? I guess it pays to be a specialist,"

He turned his head back to her, smirking straight into her helpless yet loathsome face that was glaring straight back at him. "Thank you for all your help, doc, but do us all a favor and die already."

And with that, he pushed her into the cell and shut the doors.