DS #9 A Life for a Life (5/?)
By Carol M.
See prologue for details.
Be warned, angst a comin…Enjoy!
Darien awoke sometime later to feel something pressing hard against his injured rib. He yelped and looked up at the blurry blonde figure that was causing the pain. "Claire?" he said hopefully.
"Who?" said the blurry figure.
Darien blinked his eyes several times, and the cobwebs started to clear. He looked up at the figure and realized it was an older woman in her early forties. "What are you doing?" he asked fearfully as he pulled away from her.
"They just sent me in here to patch you up," she answered dryly. She produced some sort of wipe from a bag lying on the bed and rubbed it against the injury to Darien's forehead. It stung like crazy and Darien winced. "I wouldn't suggest trying to escape again. Things will only get worse."
"Thanks for the tip," said Darien. "So what the hell am I doing here anyway?"
"That's not for me to say, Mr. Fawkes," said the woman.
"What's your name?" asked Darien.
"I'm not at liberty to say," she said as she placed a bandage across his forehead. "Take it easy for a few hours. Try and get some sleep."
"What do they want?" Darien asked again.
The woman shook her head. "You'll find out soon enough," she said as she stood up and observed the sad, scared eyes of the man before her. "It was nice to meet you Mr. Fawkes," she said as she started for the door.
Darien nodded his head slowly and watched her walk out the door. He shut his eyes and was about to drift back asleep when he felt a familiar stabbing pain in the back of his head. "Aw crap," he said out loud. He carefully got out of bed and walked to one of the walls, pounding on it hard. "I know someone's out there!" he yelled. "I need a damn shot!" he cried.
But no one answered him. He sighed in anger and frustration and sat back down on the bed. He checked the tattoo and saw that he was two segments away from the madness. He closed his eyes and concentrated as hard as he could, trying to push the demon as far back into his brain as possible.
**
"Okay, Bill Benhill, nothing. Pete McNeal, nothing. Rob Willis, nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing," said Alex in frustration from her position at Claire's computer in Claire and Darien's apartment. "I contacted every friend and snitch I know, and I've got nothing," she said.
Bobby walked over and sat on the desk. "Hobbesnet didn't get squat either. It's like this guy doesn't exist."
"Claire, what about the D. o. D.? You have any contacts from there?" asked Alex.
Claire shook her head from her position on the bed. "I'll already tried them. No one knew anything about Royce McClellan or his super spy organization."
"Of course they didn't. No one's willing to risk their ass and give up a little intel. This guy is too powerful and too connected. He's got everybody running scared," said Bobby in irritation.
"Maybe we're going about this the wrong way. Alex, you've got connections in the White House, right?" asked Claire as she gave Alex a hopeful look.
"Um, Claire, George W. isn't exactly in my Rolodex," responded Alex.
"Right," said Claire. She took a deep breath and wiped at her eyes.
"Why don't you get some rest, Keep.," said Bobby. "Let me and Monroe handle this."
"I can't," said Claire as she looked out the window with a distant stare. "I can't sleep knowing Darien's out there somewhere," she said, a few tears glimmering in her eyes. She wiped them away and looked back at Bobby and Alex. "What's next guys?"
A knock on the door interrupted all of their thoughts. Bobby drew his gun and cautiously stepped towards the door, looking out the peephole. "Who's there? Identify yourself!" he yelled.
"It's Eberts, Robert," said a voice coming from the hallway.
"Well how do I know it's really you and not just someone pretending to be you?" asked Bobby.
Alex rolled her eyes and stood up, walking to the door. "How much did the Agency spend last year in postage?" she yelled through the door.
"For U.S. or international mail?" said the voice from behind the door.
Alex smiled and opened the door despite Bobby's protest. Eberts balked when he saw Bobby's gun aimed at his face. He dropped a box of files and put his hands up. "It's me, Robert."
"Okay, okay," said Bobby as he put his gun back in the holster. He looked at the box on the floor curiously and started rummaging through it. "I didn't know you made house calls, Ebes. What's all this crap?"
"The Official's personal files on Royce McClellan," said Eberts.
"Are you serious? Is this some kind of trick the fatman put you up to?" asked Bobby.
"The Official was the one to find all of these files," said Eberts. "He wants to help."
"Well I'll be damned, the fat bastard isn't so much of a bastard after all," said Bobby as he picked up the box and carried it to the bed. He looked back at Eberts. "You want to stay, Eberts?" he asked.
Eberts smiled and shook his head. "No, I have to get back. But good luck. If you need any help…" he said trailing off.
"Thank you, Albert," said Claire from the bed.
"You're welcome, Doctor. I'll see myself out," said Eberts as he exchanged a small smile with Alex and then walked out the door.
Alex walked to the bed and started rummaging through the files, sorting out piles for each of them to go through. "Maybe we'll finally have some luck," she said.
"It's about time," added Bobby as he eagerly started looking through the pile at his lap.
**
"I'm gonna kill you, you bastards!" screamed Darien at the top of his lungs. He had been fighting the madness for a day, the headaches getting worse and worse by the hour. His eyes were currently dotted with tiny veins of red. He was about to lose control, but he was going to try to stay sane for as long as possible. "Give me my shot!" he yelled.
"You'll get your shot, Mr. Fawkes," said a voice from above.
"I need it now, man. Now!" screamed Darien. An agonizing pain suddenly ripped through his skull and Darien was on the floor, moaning and holding his aching head. "Please!" he begged with tears falling down his cheeks.
One final pain sliced through his head, so bad he nearly blacked out. When he was finally able to breathe again, Darien was gone, replaced by his evil twin.
"That's more like it," said the voice on the speaker.
"What do you want?" asked Darien calmly.
There was no answer.
"Hello? I know you are up there! Answer me!" yelled Darien.
The door to his cell suddenly opened and Darien jumped back in surprise as he saw Royce enter the room. Once he got over the shock, he realized that a small dart was sticking out of his chest. "What the hell?" he said as he pulled out the dart. "What are you…" Darien didn't get to finish as he fell forward to the floor.
Royce motioned outside to the waiting guards. "Take him to the car. Make sure you have all the stuff," he said as he watched the men pick up Darien and drag him out of his cell.
**
When Darien awoke, he was in a car, surrounded by government dicks. He also realized with joy, that he didn't really care. "What's this?" he asked as he glanced at the man next to him.
"Your assignment," said the man as he handed Darien an envelope, trying to ignore the freakish silver eyes staring back at him.
Darien opened the envelope and was greeted with a picture of a distinct looking man who was in his late fifties. The man sitting next to him handed him a silver gun. "Take this, turn invisible, and shoot him point blank in the chest."
"When I'm done, can I kill you too?" asked Darien with a smile of ecstasy.
The man pushed Darien out of the car and pointed at a large office building. "Third floor, room 302," said the man.
"What if I run?" asked Darien.
"That's what this is for, Mr. Fawkes," said the man as he held up a small tracking device. "If that isn't enough incentive, there are other things we can do to assure your return," said the man.
Darien smiled. "That's not neccesary," he said as he broke out into a fast jog towards the building. He reached the foyer and instantly coated himself with quicksilver. He stepped towards the elevator and when it opened, he shoved the lone occupant out roughly to the ground. He pressed the third floor button and whistled as it started to rise, his mind a happy blank. When the door opened, he stepped out and looked around for room 302.
He found it after several wrong turns. He opened the door and stepped into the room, seeing the man from the picture sitting at a desk. The man gave a strange glance at the door that had seemingly opened by itself. "Nancy, close…" but the man never finished. A single gunshot rang out, followed by screams from the steno pool. Darien smiled to himself as he saw the blood leaking out of the body of the man he had just shot. He quickly and calmly made his way out of the office building and stepped back into the car waiting for him.
He shed the quicksilver and handed the gun back to the man he had been sitting next to earlier. "All done, what's next?" asked Darien. "You maybe?" he asked as he reached his hands out and started strangling the government bureaucrat. A sharp sting in his neck caused his world to turn blurry and he promptly passed out, sagging against the man he had just tried to kill.
The man looked up at the driver and nodded. "Take us back," he said in a slightly shaky voice as he rubbed his sore neck.
**
When Darien awoke next, he was once again lying in his cell. The blurry blonde older woman pierced his arm with a needle and his body went into sharp convulsions as pain worked its way from his head down to the rest of his body. He blacked out for several minutes and woke up alone feeling weak and nauseated.
He heard a clapping sound come from up above. "Congratulations, Mr. Fawkes, that went better than expected," said Royce.
"What are you…oh my god," said Darien as bloody images slowly started to seep into his mind. He could see it; he could remember every single detail right down to the ugly blue tie the man had worn. The man who had been standing in front of him alive one minute and dead on the floor the next "Oh god!" screamed Darien as the nauseous feeling built to a breaking point and caused him to throw up all over himself and the bed. Darien scooted away from the mess and lay down on the floor. "No, no, no," he sobbed as he curled into the fetal position and whimpered.
"Now, now, Mr. Fawkes, you did your country a wonderful service today," said Royce.
Darien only shook his head and continued to sob, unable to stop the cold-blooded emptiness that was slowly filling his heart. "I'm sorry, Claire," he whimpered.
TBC
