1Another nice long one...

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Chapter 9.

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Zhen's POV.

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I knew Declan had to be in that hotel room because our hacks into the security cameras hadn't shown anyone leave the room since he had gone inside. Though, between the time Roberta and I had left the van to the time we would get back there, anything was possible.

Martin, probably still with Declan's face on, was in a ventilation shaft, but he had screwed up on the escape route and gotten injured.

I was nervous this time around because I knew we were dancing on the edge of a knife with the risk of being physically caught. We were practically begging for capture.

I wondered then why Bobbie had decided to come with me. I found myself thinking once more… Could she possibly still have feelings for Declan? The thought remained in the back of my mind as we figured out a new point of entry.

"Why don't we take Declan's entry through the elevator shaft?" Roberta insisted as we walked.

"If we want to gift wrap ourselves in a nice little basket and hand ourselves over to them—Sure! Why not?"

"Well, I don't hear anything intelligent coming out of your end!"

I looked over the satellite maps of the hotel on my small palm pilot. There had to be something else.

"What about this?" I said, circling an area and handing the contraption over to her.

"Alright," she agreed. "I guess it'll have to do."

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"This is so old school," Roberta hissed at me as we walked out of the kitchen wearing maid uniforms we stole from the laundry chute we had entered from.

"Stealing uniforms?" she went on. "Getting a cover as a maid? I didn't sign up for this. This was nowhere in the job description."

Even I had to admit that they were ridiculous outfits, probably worn only on special occasions such as this banquet.

"Well, we are in France, and we are maids," I replied to calm her down. "Thus it only makes sense the uniforms are that of French Maids. Suck it up and grab one of those dinner carts. You go after Martin. I'll get Declan."

"Why do you get to go after Declan?" she protested in a low voice.

I gave her a look.

"Give Martin one of these waiter uniforms and get out," I said at length.

"Fine," she conceded. "At least I'll return with the glory of a hero and you'll be the one dead."

"Your optimism is simply inspirational."

Together Roberta and I pushed the cart to the very elevator that had caused so much trouble for us not twenty minutes ago. The guards let us by with no problem, though I spotted one checking us out as we waited for the elevator to come down to the basement level.

Once it dinged and opened and we were safely inside, I let go of the breath I was holding and sighed in relief.

"Degrading, isn't it?" Roberta observed as we waited for the elevator to reach the floor.

"What is?" I humored her out of boredom.

"Being abandoned for being valiant," she replied.

"Luther was just doing his job," I countered. "What would you have done?"

"Aborted on strike one, of course. Our lives are worth more than any old mission."

"Glad to know you can really see the big picture of all this," I said with strong sarcasm.

That's when the elevator door opened to the party floor and to where Roberta was to get off to get Martin, but she was frozen in shock. She was staring at me with horror on her face, as if mortified by my words. I smiled in sweet victory. I had finally gotten the madwoman to shut up.

But my focus centered back on the mission at hand, as Roberta finally stepped out and I pushed the 'door close' button and continued up to Lucas's floor.

Once there, I pushed the dinner cart to door number 588 and took a deep breath. I kept my emotions in check before finally knocking gently on the door.

"Who's there?" I heard a female voice shout angrily from inside.

"Room service," I called back. "Dinner for two, courtesy of a Mr. Costales."

"And what a fine meal you'd make," I heard a man behind me say with a thick Spanish accent.

I turned to see the real Mr. Costales, his face smug and rather victorious, standing alone in the hall.

"You," he began accusingly. "You were supposed to be out when we drugged your drink. You must have outsmarted Esteban--"

"Wasn't too much of a challenge," I replied just as arrogantly as he was speaking to me.

That's when the door to room 588 opened. Out came Lucas, looking as if she was expecting us.

"Hello there, all of you. Costales, darling, put that gun away, we're among guests."

Now I was confused. What was this woman planning? Costales seemed just as puzzled as I was.

"Come, come! Come on in. Let us be civil and speak frankly."

As soon as Costales lowered his gun, I attacked by grabbing him by the wrist and flipping him to his back. I then grabbed the gun from him before kicking in his throat. He gasped for air then immediately passed out. I loved that move. It was one of my favorites. No doubt the man wouldn't be waking up.

Then I felt a hard feeling in my back, as if metal were pressing against it. I recognized the feeling almost immediately as a gun.

"You call that being civil?" Lucas wondered out loud. "What are they teaching you at IMF these days?"

I dropped the pistol I had taken from Costales to the ground, and reluctantly put my hands up.

"Come with me," she commanded with obvious anger in her tone.

That's when I heard it. It was screaming, coming from the hotel bathroom. Coming from Declan.

"AAAAGHHHH!" he yelled.

My heart lurched in rage at what torture he was being given, and I glared furiously at Lucas.

"What did you do to him?" I growled.

"Gave him a small dose of a new product. He has about five minutes left."

His pain suddenly became mine, for every scream of anguish I heard from him was another turn of the vice around my chest. It killed me to hear his shouts. "AAAAGHHHH!"

"A new evolution of cell-depreciation," Lucas explained to me. "A torture of a poison. I sell them for seven hundred a shot. Centers to your heart in seconds, attacking your blue blood cells and making them quite literally eat each other to survive. They call it the 'Blues', most commonly. I've been dying to test one but they're just too darn expensive to use on just any ol' body. When I captured your little friend here, I just knew there would be more of you coming. I saved one specifically for that occasion, so you could see it firsthand."

"AAAAGHHHH!"

Declan's shouts were becoming weaker. I could only imagine what he was feeling, and even that made me shake all over. Lucas picked up my chin and brought my face close to hers.

"Exhilarating experience, isn't it? Listening to the death of your teammate… He loves you, you know."

"Let him go," I commanded, my lungs heaving for air.

She laughed.

"Why? This is more fun than I've had in months."

I didn't know what else to say.

"You want to see him?" she asked, jamming the gun in my back and herding me over to the bathroom. I entered slowly, and immediately saw where Declan hung by his hands from the showerhead with his shirt unbuttoned and ragged, and his face red and bruised. Involuntary tears streaked his faces from his heavy exertions. He was a ghastly sight.

But I didn't bother to stare, just lifted my leg back suddenly and booted the door closed on Lucas, slamming it in her face. I quickly opened it again and kicked the pistol from her grasp and into my hand smoothly. After I grabbed a nearby lamp and crashed it on her head to knock her unconscious, I let out another breath I had been holding.

"Serves you right, bitch," I said, then spat on her and pocketed the gun. I harbored no mercy for her. She was killing my teammates simply for the fun of it.

All my attention turned immediately to Declan. I quickly untied his hands from the showerhead and let him lay down in the tub. I stroked his hair back to try and ease his pain and get him to focus on me.

"Where does it hurt most, Declan?"

He looked at me like I had just offended him. He coughed. Blue liquid trickled out of his mouth and down his chin.

"Blue blood?" I said in bewilderment. How was that possible, unless one of his aortas had burst? I prayed to God that it hadn't. It was either that, or something to do with this poison changing the color of his blood. It could explain why he was in so much pain. It could be attacking every vein and nerve in his body.

"It hurts in me chest," he groaned. "Like heartburn t' the thousandth degree. I need a blood transfusion and fast. She let it slip that a transfusion of a dissimilar blood type will reverse the effects."

"Why would she let something like that 'slip'?" I interrogated.

Again with the offended look.

"Dyin' here!" he harshly reminded me.

"But how can I…? How can you transfuse blood of a different type? Your body could reject it and start attacking the donor blood, and the risk of diseases… Not to mention I can't even get to the polluted aorta… I have no shots, no tubes—no medical gear! There's no way I can possibly…"

"You'll have to make a hole to it."

I couldn't believe my ears.

"Are you insane? You want me to kill you to save you? Come on, Declan…"

"I'm serious. It could work."

I sighed, and started to go grab Lucas to use her blood for the transfusion, but Declan grabbed my wrist.

"Zhen… her blood type's the same as mine."

It didn't take me long to realize what he was really trying to say. I was going to have to use my own, or nothing. I knew I could bleed to death.

"Make your decision, Zhen," he went on seriously. "Let me die, or risk both of us dyin'…"

When I only stared in reply, Declan sighed.

"There's a vent above me you can use as your exit. Make up a nice heroic story of my death for Brassel for me, okay?"

My eyes narrowed with determination.

"Like hell I will," I replied, pulling up my own sleeve and pulling out my pocketknife. I was going to have to use my own blood, and use it in controlled doses so that I wouldn't pass out myself. Why couldn't tasks ever just be uncomplicated? Again, Declan put his hand on mine.

"Zhen, I have t' say…"

I put my hand on his mouth.

"Shut up, Declan. I know you're grateful. If we live through this, we can do the 'thank you's' at a more convenient place and time than the here and now."

I hurried and opened his shirt to get at his bare chest.

"Not that…" he said, his voice fading and his eyelids falling lazy. I was losing him.

"Not that…" he repeated, before finally passing out. I stared at him in shock, blinking once or twice, but otherwise frozen. Lucas's words suddenly sprang to mind.

He loves you, you know…

But that couldn't have been what he wanted to tell me, I decided. He was a fellow agent. It wasn't just prohibited… it was downright impossible. With that, I shoved the thought aside and got to work. I cut a small but deep hole in Declan's chest, near his heart. I administered resuscitation once, just to keep him lively. Then I tenderly slit my wrist, and held it to his chest as my blood poured into him.

My heart was beating really fast, and my head was feeling woozy, and I wasn't sure if it was from the loss of blood or the fact that Declan could die at any moment. He had to live, so that he could tell me what he wanted to say. It gave me even more incentive.

"Com'on, Declan," I coaxed, giving him CPR once more.

I felt his wrist and neck, but no pulse was coming from him. I stopped breathing when I realized he had.

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To FlamingMushrooms: thanks for helping me out with the technicalities. I hope this makes the story a bit more realistic, and even if its not really correct medical science. Just remember—this is the movies! Even still, I hope I explained it away a little better, such as, the blue blood being an effect of the poison. If not, I'll have to say: "Dammit… Oh, well."
To everyone: Please review.
Signed,
--RedRogue