Nights Apart
Chapter 3
Warnings: Language
And here we are. Back in the present. Why? Who knows. Life's weird. You try figuring it out! Now that everyone's caught up, let's get back to the plot (at least I think there's a plot. For all I know, there could be no point to this anecdote). Okay, so:
Metallic sleeve? Check!
Dwindling number of uninfected/still coherent/alive Numbuhs? Check!
People ripping their hair out and going insane because they're running out of time and no-one has a plan? Big fat fucking check there, bub. In fact, make that two big fucking fat checks , the first one probably went through mitosis or some shit.
Sitting back against his cell's wall, Ben sighed as he could only watch the KND operatives reduced to sniveling, panicked messes of paranoia calling for their parents, calling for their homes, hoping they weren't the next experiment. Seeking comfort where there was no comfort to be found because they were millions of miles away, and they were only children.
Think. Think. Think. Think.
The mantra has been repeating itself in Ben's head for the past day or so. Not that it was helping. At this point he'd started hoping it would just annoy him into some sort of vague outline of a possible idea. He looked up just n time to see a note being slipped under his door. Making a point of caution, he moved forward and picked it up.
'You are the next subject,' it read 'The jump drive contains override codes for the blocks put on transmissions. Get to the Transmission hall and send for help when they come for you.'
The jump drive was thin, about two millimeters thick over-all and measured as long as the first knuckle of Ben's index finger. Easy enough to hide. So he slipped it, along with the note, into his jean's pocket. And then he waited.
And he waited.
And he waited.
...Good God
those fusions are taking their time. And then, finally, after what felt like ten thousand years (it was only half-an-hour dude, chill) Ben's cell door opened, revealing five infected Numbuhs, every pair of eves a vibrant mix of red and green. Other than that they looked completely normal. They weren't armed, but they were strong enough to subdue Ben, therefore needed no weapons (AN: Did you know that the brain installed strength limiters in the body, only allowing your muscles to work at a twenty or so percent capacity? I'll let you mull that over for a second, then tell you why I thought this was relevant. Zombies have no such limiter, because they only have motor function. Ba-dum-tshh.) He'd seen this happen enough times. Every single selection, he remembered. It was best to just get up and follow. So that's exactly what he did.
-Nights Apart-
The whole base was infested with fusion matter. I mean... not that it was surprising, but still. Yuck. Ben had walked through these halls quite a few times. He had no idea where the hell the were going. He did, however, recognize the corridor to the Transmissions hall. Now just to take out the infected...Which was actually pretty easy. They were slow in the up-take and his arm was covered in some sort of metal, so...
Anyway, infected out cold, jump drive still secure in his jeans, he went to the nearest USB-port and watched as the override codes were automatically accepted, the signals unblocked, and a line of communication established.
This was it. Finally. It was almost over.
-Nights Apart-
A transmission was coming through from Moonbase. Weeks and weeks of waiting, worrying and sleeplessly analyzing broken communication signals and watching the screen angrily blare failure in bold, vibrant red letters at him finally payed off. His efforts weren't wasted after all! However, the response to this, this miracle, this proof that there was indeed a loving god (like, somewhere probably) and that he/she was smiling down upon Earth right at this instant was... severely lacking.
Seated at his desk, head rested in sloppily and tiredly folded arms, Dexter was softly snoring in his sleep. Which he would later curse himself because, y'know. It was kinda an important call and most of the world was awaiting news from Moonbase with bated breath but, whatever. Not like he'd been sleeping very well or (whenever he had a say in it) at all through this nightmare/ simulation-of-hell type thing. Never the less, he woke up and answered just in time, thanks to Computress poking him in the shoulder.
Dazed and thoroughly dragged through the shit (AN: I don't know if that expression is know world-wide, but its quite popular here. It basically means to look like the risen dead, and so tired that you are barely coherent at all, like most of the world before coffee in the morning) Dexter hit what was hopefully the 'answer call' button, all without lifting his head.
"No, I have not yet restored the signal and I refuse to move to another project until it is," He grumbled into his desk.
If he'd lifted his head, he would have noticed Ben's amused smile before a loud bang to the TM hall door obliterated any joy in the world ever.
"Dex, I don't have a lot of time here."
Dexter's head shot up before Ben could finish pronouncing the shortened version of his name. What he felt when he saw Ben on the screen I can only describe as a dial on a scale moving from 'Thank fuck!' to 'Please, let this be an actual moment in time' accompanied with a side-order of jello legs. He hadn't slept in thirty-six hours it could just be another dream where the signal finally decided to cooperate and it turns out that everything was fine all along. Probability had dismissed all of those dreams turning out to be true as highly unlikely, but it wasn't a crime to dream, y'know? Especially with a war going on. Then again, that brings up the argument that Fantasy land is a fool's playground, which is true also.
"Uh, Dex?"
He'd been starring. His quest to decipher whether these turn of events were actually happening had led him to blankly stair at the increasingly anxious form that was Ben Tennyson on the monitor. He was still arguing with himself on that point. Oh, the mind is cruel!
"Ben?"
"Yeah?"
"That is you?"
"The one and only."
... Good enough.
Author's Note:You thought this fic was dead, didn't you? No. Pfft. *Nervous laughter*