Disclaimer-Still not mine!
The first thing he noticed was the crows. Big, black, stinking birds that flocked down, feathers molting, surrounding him, chocking him, coating his body like a funeral shroud.
Six ran, chest heaving, sneakers pounding in time with his rapid heartbeat. Soon, the birds were so thick he could barely breathe, let alone see. The fear pumping though his veins, though, refused to allow him to slow down, to gather his bearings.
At a noise, he whipped his head around, a rookie mistake and tripped himself in the process. As he fell, he stuck out his hands, and they sank to his elbows into the feathers, which had melted into something very much like tar. As he dropped, spiraling down down into the darkness, guilt crushed him, the tar-like substance getting heavier and hotter, grinding his bones to dust, melting the flesh from his now-destroyed body, he opened his mouth to scream, but choked, gaging on feathers—
Six snapped awake, panting. His alarm clock shrieked loud enough to wake the dead, and he felt a flicker of shock.
He'd always been a light sleeper, now even more than ever.
He slammed a hand down on the silence button, snapping the plastic slightly. He blinked, and noticed a slight haze around the room. He felt hot, trickles of sweat down racing his spine, his face. He glanced at his clock, and squinted at the numbers.
Four o clock? That was when he usually woke up…. Wasn't it? He frowned, and thought sluggishly.
No… he usually woke up at seven. So why… oh.
Oh.
He had a mission.
In an hour.
He lept out of the bed, and staggered a little. The world tilted, but he shoved it away, still panting.
Heat ravaged his body, and when he looked in his bathroom mirror, he barely recognized himself. His skin was paler than usual; almost wax like, except for the dark red flush at the tops of his cheeks. Dark circles were carved under his too-bright eyes, and sweat matted his hair down to his skull.
Six swallowed, and felt his throat stick, since there was no saliva to coat it. He ripped his attention away from the mirror.
Mission, he thought blearily. I have a mission.
He blinked slowly, and found it hard to open his eyes again. Have a mission today… have to take my meds…
He fumbled the drawer open, and found his bottle missing. He stared at the empty space before sighting the equally empty bottle on the counter.
Empty.
If his breath could have sped up, it would have.
He gritted his teeth, and thought woozily, Can get more...Just have to talk to King… after the mission….
Shuffling a sheath of papers, King reached across his desk to get a sip of water. He paused, and looked at the glass thoughtfully, thinking of his adoptive son and his….. habit.
King sighed. When the boy had originally come to him, he'd only complained of bad dreams, memories. This, King knew, was common enough, especially considering Six's age, the one factor the boy often ignored.
He'd given the child simple sleeping pills, which had sometimes been used to treat PTSD before Takeover. King had thought they would solve the problem. But the teenager had kept coming back. King took a deep breath, and admitted, silently, that he'd given them to the boy because they were known to be addictive. Back then, Six had acted like little more than mercenary, and showed no particular preference towards his adoptive father.
King had felt the need for a backup, reassurance that Six wouldn't become a double agent for Chaosonic.
At fourteen, the boy had known about drugs, about addiction. He'd made busts at crack houses with all the other agents, withstood King's lectures, but King knew that personal addiction, crippling, horrible need, had not been particularly taught to the boy.
Frowning, King felt ill, knowing that Six was probably at least somewhat attached to his pills….
King rubbed is forehead, trying to ease his sudden migraine.
He knew now that the boy was completely loyal, with Kyntak and Ace here. And if his problem was more than dreams, surely Six would have said something by now. King nodded to himself. He'd take Agent Six off the pills today.
After all, he had no real need for them, right?
Sorry for the slow updates, but I can't promise any more speed. My muse comes and goes. Anyway, feel free to review...
Thanks to President Zaphod Beeblebrox, zuzuthezombie, and Cassey11 for reviewing!