Swallowing hard, Darien tapped Hobbes on the shoulder, then quicksilvered
Hobbes' eyes and the bridge of his nose. Hollow-faced, Bobby tried hard to
ignore the gagging noises as he scanned the room, attempting to aim. A pink
silhouette aimed back at him, point blank . . .
* * *
7/8
As a motorcycle blew through the mansion doors, a ghost on its back.
Arnaud transferred his aim, which was the last Hobbes could see before Darien
gave out and sank to his hands and knees.
"Nice entrance," the Swiss man said. "Very Meatloaf." He took aim at the
white-faced unknown, shedding quicksilver from the gun to fire.
As Arnaud raised his gun, Kevin saw what he'd been waiting for. He took his
opening, merging fully, and the Crow stiffened even as he lunged for the
terrorist, taking an insignificant bullet. The Crow felt cold flames that were
nothing like Top Dollar's slow seduction. They were every part of Eric that
loved his own brother mated to all Kevin's anger and guilt. Fire, not music.
Knowledge and pain. The Crow wasn't driving anymore, and neither was his better
half.
The crow couldn't see Arnaud. The Crow couldn't see Arnaud. But Kevin could.
And he knew what he wanted.
To everyone who could not see, the pale creature danced with himself, whirling
and kicking, coat flying behind. With Kevin's eyes, Eric saw his murderer
beaten back, until little fight remained. Darien's madness rushed back to him
with Kevin's pain. It pooled in his hands as he took Arnaud down.
//Now.//
Knees on Arnaud's chest, the Crow grabbed the man's head. Through his fingers
he poured all the betrayal, all the pain, the shots to the chest, the perversion
of Kevin's blood at the hands of the man he held at his mercy. //No mercy.//
All the madness, all the anguish the Crow had felt from Darien trying to stay
sane. All the pain. All of it.
Arnaud screamed and the onslaught stopped. He looked up at the apparition with
eyes still disturbingly clear.
"So," the mercenary said, still supine, "That is what it felt like to be shot in
the chest. Excruciating. But then it isn't really on my to-do list. And the
headaches are almost as painful as advertised. Not crippling enough, though - a
mistake on my part."
"What are you? How can you not feel . . ."
"Oh, please," Arnaud said, his head still between the Crow's white hands,
causing ice to coat them. "Do you really believe I'd have chosen bioterrorism
as a career if I had any capacity to comprehend human misery?"
"I can't make you feel."
"Feel pain? Absolutely. Feel sorry? No. I don't think you can."
"But I can break your neck."
"Then what was that little psychodrama? After all that, you'd kill in cold
blood?"
"I can be convinced. And frankly, it's hard not to kill when a ghost is
whispering that I have to." A true, frightening smile spread across the Crow's
face as black tears gathered in his eyes. "Kevin wants you dead. I don't know
if I should fight him any more." And Arnaud finally looked scared.
"Kevin?" Darien whispered. Hobbes stared at him as he rose. Albrecht just
watched. "Kevin, this feels wrong. Don't do this for me."
"Anything done out of love . . ." the Crow began,
"Is beyond good and evil," Darien finished with him. "Kevin, that's . . .
Nietzsche was full of crap. This is evil. If Arnaud dies here, like this, and
God knows I want him gone for what he did to you . . ." Darien's voice broke.
"You're supposed to be convincing me," the Crow said softly, turning Arnaud's
head slowly left, then right. Ice crept up his wrists.
"Kevin, you'll damn yourself! Don't do this! Let Eric go, please! Let . . . "
Darien looked at the ground and whispered, "Let Arnaud go. I'll find him again,
I swear. Don't make Eric do this. Please."
The Crow lifted trembling hands away. "That did it." He rolled backwards,
slowly, and stood, hands held to either side, a barrier between the terrorist
and the agent.
Arnaud stood. "Closer than I'd like."
"Get out of here before I kill you myself," Darien growled.
"Not sane, you won't," Arnaud said. "And you have plenty of time left sane and
nauseous - that, I know." Abruptly, the voice became footsteps, running rapidly
in the other direction. Tinkling glass gave away his exit, and all ran to
follow.
Until they heard the roaring and the scream.
Darien's smile was cold. "Good kitty." But the scream was followed by a
gunshot and a whimper.
Hobbes wrapped his sport coat around his arm and cleared out the window frame.
He was the first onto the grounds, the first to find Czarina, now visible,
silver and red in the moonlight. "Aw, man. Poor thing." The tiger whined.
"She's still alive!"
"Is Arnaud?" Albrecht, next through the window, pointed to one of Czarina's
paws. It was crimson, and a bright red stain shed silver nearby. But then a
helicopter rose from behind the trees.
"You had to ask," said the painted Crow, watching Hobbes on his phone. He
turned to Albrecht. "I should go. I'm neither fish nor fowl."
"No comment." The detective sighed. "Just - check in with Sarah, will you?
She's worried."
"It's okay," he said, eyes moving to Fawkes. "Kevin's not here anymore."
Darien looked at the creature that was sometimes Eric Draven. "We . . . we need
to talk."
"Then we'll talk. But not here." And he was gone. And Darien Fawkes moved to
join his partner, who appeared to be talking to the Keeper.
"Yeah, Claire. An inhibitor. Yeah, he wanted it real bad. Whaddaya mean,
why?"
* * *
Hobbes' eyes and the bridge of his nose. Hollow-faced, Bobby tried hard to
ignore the gagging noises as he scanned the room, attempting to aim. A pink
silhouette aimed back at him, point blank . . .
* * *
7/8
As a motorcycle blew through the mansion doors, a ghost on its back.
Arnaud transferred his aim, which was the last Hobbes could see before Darien
gave out and sank to his hands and knees.
"Nice entrance," the Swiss man said. "Very Meatloaf." He took aim at the
white-faced unknown, shedding quicksilver from the gun to fire.
As Arnaud raised his gun, Kevin saw what he'd been waiting for. He took his
opening, merging fully, and the Crow stiffened even as he lunged for the
terrorist, taking an insignificant bullet. The Crow felt cold flames that were
nothing like Top Dollar's slow seduction. They were every part of Eric that
loved his own brother mated to all Kevin's anger and guilt. Fire, not music.
Knowledge and pain. The Crow wasn't driving anymore, and neither was his better
half.
The crow couldn't see Arnaud. The Crow couldn't see Arnaud. But Kevin could.
And he knew what he wanted.
To everyone who could not see, the pale creature danced with himself, whirling
and kicking, coat flying behind. With Kevin's eyes, Eric saw his murderer
beaten back, until little fight remained. Darien's madness rushed back to him
with Kevin's pain. It pooled in his hands as he took Arnaud down.
//Now.//
Knees on Arnaud's chest, the Crow grabbed the man's head. Through his fingers
he poured all the betrayal, all the pain, the shots to the chest, the perversion
of Kevin's blood at the hands of the man he held at his mercy. //No mercy.//
All the madness, all the anguish the Crow had felt from Darien trying to stay
sane. All the pain. All of it.
Arnaud screamed and the onslaught stopped. He looked up at the apparition with
eyes still disturbingly clear.
"So," the mercenary said, still supine, "That is what it felt like to be shot in
the chest. Excruciating. But then it isn't really on my to-do list. And the
headaches are almost as painful as advertised. Not crippling enough, though - a
mistake on my part."
"What are you? How can you not feel . . ."
"Oh, please," Arnaud said, his head still between the Crow's white hands,
causing ice to coat them. "Do you really believe I'd have chosen bioterrorism
as a career if I had any capacity to comprehend human misery?"
"I can't make you feel."
"Feel pain? Absolutely. Feel sorry? No. I don't think you can."
"But I can break your neck."
"Then what was that little psychodrama? After all that, you'd kill in cold
blood?"
"I can be convinced. And frankly, it's hard not to kill when a ghost is
whispering that I have to." A true, frightening smile spread across the Crow's
face as black tears gathered in his eyes. "Kevin wants you dead. I don't know
if I should fight him any more." And Arnaud finally looked scared.
"Kevin?" Darien whispered. Hobbes stared at him as he rose. Albrecht just
watched. "Kevin, this feels wrong. Don't do this for me."
"Anything done out of love . . ." the Crow began,
"Is beyond good and evil," Darien finished with him. "Kevin, that's . . .
Nietzsche was full of crap. This is evil. If Arnaud dies here, like this, and
God knows I want him gone for what he did to you . . ." Darien's voice broke.
"You're supposed to be convincing me," the Crow said softly, turning Arnaud's
head slowly left, then right. Ice crept up his wrists.
"Kevin, you'll damn yourself! Don't do this! Let Eric go, please! Let . . . "
Darien looked at the ground and whispered, "Let Arnaud go. I'll find him again,
I swear. Don't make Eric do this. Please."
The Crow lifted trembling hands away. "That did it." He rolled backwards,
slowly, and stood, hands held to either side, a barrier between the terrorist
and the agent.
Arnaud stood. "Closer than I'd like."
"Get out of here before I kill you myself," Darien growled.
"Not sane, you won't," Arnaud said. "And you have plenty of time left sane and
nauseous - that, I know." Abruptly, the voice became footsteps, running rapidly
in the other direction. Tinkling glass gave away his exit, and all ran to
follow.
Until they heard the roaring and the scream.
Darien's smile was cold. "Good kitty." But the scream was followed by a
gunshot and a whimper.
Hobbes wrapped his sport coat around his arm and cleared out the window frame.
He was the first onto the grounds, the first to find Czarina, now visible,
silver and red in the moonlight. "Aw, man. Poor thing." The tiger whined.
"She's still alive!"
"Is Arnaud?" Albrecht, next through the window, pointed to one of Czarina's
paws. It was crimson, and a bright red stain shed silver nearby. But then a
helicopter rose from behind the trees.
"You had to ask," said the painted Crow, watching Hobbes on his phone. He
turned to Albrecht. "I should go. I'm neither fish nor fowl."
"No comment." The detective sighed. "Just - check in with Sarah, will you?
She's worried."
"It's okay," he said, eyes moving to Fawkes. "Kevin's not here anymore."
Darien looked at the creature that was sometimes Eric Draven. "We . . . we need
to talk."
"Then we'll talk. But not here." And he was gone. And Darien Fawkes moved to
join his partner, who appeared to be talking to the Keeper.
"Yeah, Claire. An inhibitor. Yeah, he wanted it real bad. Whaddaya mean,
why?"
* * *