AN: I am so sorry that I've been AWOL. First my flash drive died, then my laptop gave its life rescuing my documents from said drive. Ugh...anyway, quick proof that I'm not dead. Hopefully we'll be back to normal in short order.
Christineoftheopera-I am surrounded by lunatics. SHUT UP! You're worse. You killed ten people before I killed ONE. Your first kill involved dismemberment. Good point.
BLAM!
"Nobody move!" Her request is obeyed. "You can take her to surgery, if you need to."
The gurney-pushers book it without a backwards look. The woman comes in the rest of the way, shotgun gripped firmly in her fingers. If it was just her, she could be dealt with, but she's brought backup. Lots of backup.
"I'm going to need Jonathan Crane's room number."
"I-I don't know if I can…"
"Let me rephrase that. If you don't give me his room number, I'll find him myself. And there'll be death until I do."
"I don't even know if he's here…"
"For your sake, he'd better be."
She types quickly, hoping to God this guy is in their system. Jonathan Crane, Jonathan Crane…there.
"Room three-fifty."
"Thank you, sweetie." She turns to walk away. "You lot stay here until I get back."
"H-he's critical." she calls after her. It's a lie, but maybe it'll dissuade her.
"I was there, sweetie."
And then she's gone, leaving her goons in the waiting room.
"No callin' the cops." one grunts. "Miss Richardson won't be happy 'bout that."
She wouldn't dream of upsetting the homicidal maniac. But if the police should…appear…she'll be very grateful indeed.
"What're we doin' here, anyway?"
"Pickin' up the boss."
"That one said he was critical."
"Never stopped 'im before."
"True."
A collective shudder runs through the mooks and they fall silent. A few minutes later, the doors open back up and the woman from earlier returns, supporting a pale, thin man who looks barely able to stand.
"We good, Miss Richardson?"
"You get the car. You come here, and if we get home, and he's in worse shape than he is now, you'll regret it dearly."
"M'okay, Kitty…"
"I know." He sways and she presses one hand to his chest. "Just don't fall, you'll bring me down with you."
He laughs weakly.
"Probably."
"You heard me. Don't break him, or you'll be answering to me." She hands him off and comes to the desk. "Thanks for looking after him. And for being so cooperative."
"You're welcome?"
She grins and walks towards the door.
"Come on, boys. Time to go home."
THE END