Back with Chapter 12!
Shades of X: Mors is….complicated. Very, very complicated.
Missy?
"Zara doesn't own Lab Rats or anything you recognize. If you don't recognize it, it's probably hers."
"The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it."
Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray
"I can resist anything except temptation."
Oscar Wilde, Lady Windermere's Fan
Missy
"Where is it?"
Missy jumped at the unexpected words. Kevin was the last person she had ever expected to hear again. She glanced at the man, wondering if his constant fever was causing him to talk in his sleep or something. She was surprised to find him looking right at her, his eyes half-crazed. His voice, though weak and shaking, held a hint of desperation as he repeated himself. "Where is it, Missy?"
Missy frowned, tilting her head slightly. "Where is what?"
"James had it," Kevin went on, as if it he never heard her. "He said I could have it if I told him about Soad. Where does he keep it?"
Missy winced, suddenly understanding what he was asking for. "I haven't seen James in two days," she responded carefully. "He didn't tell me about this little drug deal."
Kevin scowled. "Don't judge me. I'm dying, anyways."
"You should die clean," Missy responded. "You don't need amphetamines."
"Who cares?" Kevin sighed, rubbing his eyes.
Missy wanted to point out that whatever his boyfriend's name was probably cared, but she didn't want to evoke a loved one like that. Kevin likely wouldn't listen, anyways. She sighed, trying to think of reasons as to why he should abandon the thoughts of relapsing while he was still lucid enough to listen. "James probably hid them before he left."
"Then find them," Kevin groaned. "I just need one. That's all..."
Missy found herself remembering the other times she had heard him desperately saying that exact thing as he sold out demons left and right. She had always felt bad about taking advantage of his addiction like that. It seemed so wrong to encourage someone to self-destruct just for the sake of a few demons. James, however, never listened to her concerns. He's just a drug addict, he would say. Basic scum of society. Nobody cares about him, and they never will. As long as he keeps talking, I'm going to keep giving him pills.
Missy didn't think James even understood what was so disgusting about that point of view. It had always remained a sore spot between them.
"If I tell you how to beat Soad, will you find them?"
Missy was drawn back to the present by Kevin's offer. On one hand, she didn't want to encourage him, but...
Soad needed to be destroyed. If Kevin had the knowledge to do it, she needed to know it.
After a moment, Missy sighed. "Fine, but I'm not telling your boyfriend that you broke your sobriety."
"Dougie doesn't need to know," Kevin responded. "Please, don't ever tell him. He'd be so disappointed."
Missy sighed again. "I guess. So...how do we beat Soad?"
Kevin started to sit up, but, after a moment of fumbling attempts, stayed laying down. "If he's using magic, his scales weaken. The stronger the effect, the weaker they become. Hell, missiles barely phased him until he was trying to do something to Dougie. Had a ring of fire around him and everything. That's when we actually drew blood. If you get him to focus his energy somewhere other than his defenses, he's vulnerable." After a pause, he fixed Missy with a look. "Can I have them now? Please?"
Missy nodded, but her thoughts were clinging to this new information. It sounded like Soad had finite energy. Was there a way to get him to use so much of it at once with such focus that he wouldn't even notice someone aiming a gun at him until it was too late? "Is there something we could use as bait?"
Kevin narrowed his eyes. "I told you everything I know," he muttered defensively. "You said you would find the pills, not ask more questions."
Missy instantly got the vibe that he knew the answer to that question, but didn't want to discuss it. So, instead of pushing it, she just nodded again. "Let me go dig through James' things." With that, she turned away from Kevin, trotting through the tunnel until she ran into the one person she wanted to see. "Paul?"
A kind, elderly man looked up from something he was writing, smiling at her. "Hello, dear," he said. "Did you need something?"
Missy smiled. Of all the survivors who had found their way into the sewers, she was glad that Paul was one. A doctor for twenty years, he was by far one of the most valuable people they had. "I was curious," she began. "Is there a way to save James' prisoner? Anything at all?"
Paul frowned. "Well, I would normally use antibiotics, but we don't have any. Even if we did, though, he still might not make it. James let the infection spread too far before bringing him here."
"There has to be something," she insisted. She told herself that it was because Kevin knew the bait to use for Soad, but she honestly didn't want to see him die. She remembered Kevin was a real sweetheart and a good friend, when he wasn't desperate for his next fix. She would miss him if he died, and she definitely wouldn't forgive herself if she didn't do anything to prevent it.
"Well, there is one thing," Paul responded hesitantly. "He might not survive it, though."
"He definitely won't survive if we don't try something," Missy insisted.
Paul nodded. "Then I'm going to need a tourniquet and a lot of disinfectant. Oh, and he needs to take strong sleeping pills. We don't want him waking up right in the middle of this."
Missy grinned. "I can get him to take the pills." Hopefully, he'd be too sick to notice the difference between sleeping pills and amphetamines until he was asleep. "Is there anything else you need?"
Paul nodded, his expression grim. "A saw."
"Most people do not listen with the intent to understand; they listen with the intent to reply."
Stephen R. Covey, The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People: Powerful Lessons in Personal Change
"When people talk, listen completely. Most people never listen."
Ernest Hemingway
Douglas
Douglas glared at the man at the front counter, squeezing the arms of his chair. The man was ignoring him, writing something as he did his nightly chores. Douglas was honestly glad that he was alone in the lobby this time. Donnie had started to pester him about the man, and it was annoying.
Outside, the headlights from the occasional car shined in the windows of the front door, reminding Douglas that it was still the middle of the night, and he really should be asleep upstairs. But he still couldn't sleep, and he didn't want to wake Trevor up by pacing around the room or something. He had just started to sleep soundly at night. Douglas didn't want to ruin it.
Douglas was so focused that he jumped a bit when someone plopped down in the chair next to him. He glanced over only to sigh. Great. Tasha was the last person he wanted to talk to at the moment.
She smiled slightly at Douglas. "Are you okay?"
"Yes, mother," he huffed, looking back at the counter.
She raised her eyebrow. "Then why are you down here?"
Douglas sighed as the man behind the desk left his post and crossed the lobby, disappearing into a different room. "Is it really any of your business? Besides, I don't hear you explaining why you're down here."
"I couldn't sleep," Tasha responded with a shrug. "I ordered some coffee. I figured it would be easier just to wait for it down here instead of having someone knock on the door and wake everybody up."
Douglas nodded after a second. "I couldn't sleep, either. Didn't want to wake Trevor up."
Tasha nodded as the desk clerk returned, holding two cups of coffee. He handed one to Tasha, then offered the second one to Douglas.
Douglas narrowed his eyes. "No, thanks. I didn't order anything."
"It's complimentary," the man explained with a smile.
Douglas set his jaw, but took the cup carefully. "Thanks," he said with a tight smile. He watched the man walk away, then set the cup down. He had no intention of drinking anything that man touched.
Tasha rolled her eyes. "It's fine, Douglas. He's not out to get you."
Douglas shot her a look. "You don't know that."
Tasha took his cup and sipped it, then set it down. After a moment, she shrugged. "See? Harmless."
Reluctantly, Douglas picked the coffee up again and drank some. He couldn't say that he wasn't grateful for it. He was exhausted, to say the least.
"Do you really have that big of a problem with him?"
Douglas glanced at Tasha. "He's…he just…."
Tasha nodded. "Oh, I see. So threatening."
Douglas glared at her. "Shut up. There's something off about him. I know there is."
"Like your classmate in school?"
Douglas was momentarily startled. "Exactly what has Donnie told you about that?"
Tasha shrugged, innocently drinking more coffee.
"This is different," Douglas insisted.
"Of course," Tasha patronized. "Why, though? Why is it different? What has he actually done?"
That set Douglas off. He started describing every little thing he could remember. Every little glare, every gesture, every conversation the man had that Douglas found suspicious. And, surprisingly, Tasha listened. She didn't interrupt like Don would. She didn't try to disprove him. She just listened, nodding occasionally. It was nice, and Douglas found that he felt better when he exhausted both the stories and the coffee in his cup. "See?" he said afterwards. "He's threatenin'."
Tasha frowned at the sentence. "Are you drunk?"
Douglas shook his head, an act that made his head spin slightly. "No. I jus' drank coffee."
"You're not lyin', are you?" Tasha asked, slurring her words.
Douglas frowned now. "No, but are you sure you're no' drunk?"
Tasha scowled. "I don' drink."
Douglas opened his mouth to protest when Tasha yawned, her eyes closing. "Are you okay?"
Tasha nodded, her eyes still closed. "Jus' tired."
Douglas frowned more. She shouldn't be tired. Neither should he, as a matter of fact. They had both drank coffee. It was almost like….
Douglas' eyes widened. The more he thought about it, the more he recognized the symptoms of Rohypnol. They had been drugged. Douglas stood up as fast as he could – why wasn't his body cooperating? – and started stumbling towards the elevator to find Donnie to help.
Unfortunately, Douglas went down on his knees about halfway there, and everything faded into darkness.
