BONES
The Demon in the Dark
I do not own Bones or the characters
Rated T for violence, etc.
Wendell POV
When he regained consciousness, it was a slow, fragile process as he tried to register everything that had happened. Raising his head from the wall, he blinked in the darkness and was flooded by the memory of how he got here. Okay... Now that the pain in his head had receded enough to allow him to think, he began to self-examine himself. Concussion. Probably from being hit in the head by a gun or something close to that... Apparently he wasn't able to think too much. As he began to rise to his feet, he felt a throbbing pain in his side. Bruised ribs. Time of healing varies depending on seriousness. And other factors.Like having a serial killer trying to kill you?
He moved along the wall, forced to lean against it until his eyes began to adjust to it. He could see a little now, and was able to recognize shelves, desks, and tables all around him. There were books everywhere and it almost looked as though he was standing in the middle of a library.
Suddenly trying to imagine where he could possibly be, he struggled. It couldn't be a public place where people went near all the time - that would be pure stupidity on the part of a rather clever serial killer - and it was obviously a large building judging by how far he had already gone before ending up here. Most likely it was some place outside of the reach of the more occupied section of the city - a rural maze hidden out in the trees?
That's what it felt like to him.
A maze.
But there had to be a way out. He had to find it.
He couldn't help but wonder if the other victims had felt the exact same thing as they looked for an exit to this place - or had they been killed somewhere else? Had this just been a choice killing site made by the killer whom simply used easy places to find?
Was he as clever as Wendell was giving him credit for?
He shook his head to clear the thoughts and wished he hadn't. Bracing himself, he shuffled slowly from the room, glancing around in all directions like a deer knowing there was a predator nearby. He felt like a deer. Or even a mouse, a rabbit, or some other creature low on the food chain who wondered if their killer could be around the next corner. In that second, he found he could connect to every other living thing - the hunted.
He could almost imagine the killer was following him every step of the way.
Booth POV
"The license plate is registered to a Mr. John Wagner. He was reported missing several months ago after..." Angela trailed off. When Booth turned to look at her he saw that her eyes were wide with surprise and her face was pale.
Looking over her shoulder, several things caught his eye - Victim of a violent crime. Family was murdered in their homes after an unknown man broke in. They had been brutally beaten. Wagner vanished not long afterwards. Brutally beaten. To death. He could almost feel pity for their now main suspect. Almost - if he wasn't suspected of kidnapping one of his people. Yes, he still referred to all of them as his.
"That explains a lot, really," Booth flinched as Sweets suddenly leaned over his shoulder. "Most people who suffer from violent crimes - whether in an attack or being family of the attacker - will try and take their pain out on others as a way to lessen their own. It doesn't quite work. It's never enough, so they keep evolving."
Booth glared at him.
He hated when Sweets got all distant and shrinky. Especially when one of their own were at stake.
"Hang on guys," Angela finally snapped back in to focus. "We can look at other traffic cameras in the area to get a general direction of where he went."
Booth wondered why he hadn't thought of that earlier. He was the agent and was supposed to know this stuff.
"Right, and when you-" Angela was already typing away, pulling up cameras, and looking at video feeds at a mile a minute. He felt a little more certain that they would find their missing squint with his team beside him.
Wendell POV
His steady pace had turned in to a desperate run. Paranoia was getting the best of him. The killer was everywhere.
As he ran, he wondered if he was going in circles, because he could have sworn he had run past that beam before. This building was one giant labyrinth and it was driving him crazy. He couldn't keep running like this forever, as the movement was sending an explosion to his brain every time he brought his foot down on the metal floor.
Something came at him from the corner of his eye and he flinched.
He hit the ground hard, rolling around to feel blood running down his chin. As he tried to jump to his feet, a boot smashed in to his knee, sending him back to the ground. Pain burning him and he could have sworn that his knee had broke.
Anger erupted in his chest.
It lent him the energy to leap in to the air, dodging another swing, and slam in to the killer. He was much smaller than the psychopath, but the momentum sent then slamming in to the wall before hitting the ground. Wendell was crushed beneath him as they rolled, but he managed to wrap his arms around the killer's wrists and twist them hard, before jerking both his arms behind his back in an effort to subdue him.
It didn't work as well when he was practically being squished, but it was effective in getting them to roll again.
One arm slipped from his grip and wedged in to his rib cage.
He grunted, winded as he was thrust away by the blow. Coughing, he struggled shakily to his feet, finding it hard to stand on his aching leg. The killer was up, but it was impossible to tell if he was grimacing or smiling. Creepy, disgusting bastard.
The killer moved. He flinched.
Suddenly a fist was swinging at his face. This time he successfully dodged it, only to get a knee in the gut.
Crumpling, he could only lay hunched over and gasping air for several seconds before he had control over his body again. Shit!He barely rolled to dodge being hit by a random piece of wood... Which had come nowhere, it seemed to him.
What the hell is with this guy?He wondered, shuffling slowly to one side.
He didn't give in too easily though. He would fight until he was dead or unconscious, but hopefully he could get out of here - or get found by Booth - sometime before that happened. He wasn't willing to die just so this freak could get some cruel satisfaction out of killing someone.
With that set in his mind, he focused as the killer swung the wood weapon once again at him before he lunged.
The weapon missed, and this time he practically tackled the man's arm. He bit down hard, forcing the man to drop the wood as they both toppled to the ground. Unfortunately he hadn't thought this through very hard. The killer's other arm wrapped around his throat, strangling him as a knee pressed down on his back. He gasped, caught sight of a piece of debris that looked strangely metallic in nature, wrapped his fingers tight, and then plunged it backwards as far as he could.
The sharp metal struck something hard, and he felt it cut in to his own hand and fingers, then slid along and sunk in to something soft... Warm liquid trickled down his fingers, not all of it his own blood.
The scream of pain was almost inhuman.
During the lapse of attention he managed to wriggle away and stumble half blindly, his body crippled by aches. He glanced back, cringing at the sight of metal stuck in killer's right eye - but it would help him. He had a chance to escape and he took it.
Booth POV
He was racing down the road followed by several cruisers, with Brennan in the seat beside him, naturally.
There were no sirens and no lights for this mission. They did not want to alert the killer that they were coming. If he heard them coming and had Wendell in his sights, he would probably kill him immediately. Better to have the element of surprise on their side.
After Angela had tracked the vehicle all a road leading out of the city, Sweets helped them by explaining the "best" place the killer would pick.
Rural, empty, and incredibly complex.
Forget all the shrinky mumbo-jumbo. Booth had taken off and Brennan had followed him. The sound of her loading her too-large gun made him glance over. He had no idea why she had to pick such a large gun to use instead of a normal one. It still made him nervous even though he knew she would never shoot him - on purpose... Which was the problem, really.
She had shot him by accident once.
He did not forget that.
"Where do you keep that thing?" He asked finally. He never had any idea how she came out with that. There was never any gun bulge in her coat or anywhere, really. It seemed to materialize out of nowhere.
"I want to shoot him," she stated seriously.
"Yes."
He needed to say nothing more.
Once again I've had uploading problems - and it really ticked me off because I had a really good update, hit save, and the site logged me out! D: Oh well! I hope this can make up for it! I tried to make it longer. Anyway, next chapter might be the last; however I am considering a sequel. :D All depends on whether you guys like it or not! Happy Thanksgiving/Turkey Day by the way!