Thatkidwiththeunkepthair: Stop making me blush! Actually don't stop, I love your awesomeness!

Ahhh: That's quite a name you have there! Sorry you had to wait at all, here it is :)

Buckshotredemption: Yay, I'm so glad to have another reviewer! Thanks for your support (however impatient it might be lol)

Jake: You waited the least out of any other reviewer, lucky you ;) Enjoy!

Warnings: Elevated levels of implied predatory slash. Some violence. Reader discretion advised!

Chapter Five

"Closing In"

10K felt another flare of rage in his chest as the metal pipe pressed more painfully against his throat. "You—killed him!" He ground out, trying to throw an elbow backward into the man's chest. "It's hopeless—now—"

"It was always hopeless," the stranger growled, applying more pressure, "The zombie virus was always going to win. I knew it a long time ago, but did anyone listen?" He gave a sharp tug on the pipe, like a reprimand. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. I have his blood, remember? We don't need the Murphy."

"Yes—we—did!"

"Well… agree to disagree. If the CDC wants it, they have to come knocking on MY door, instead of the other way around."

"Murphy was right!" Gasped 10K, feeling lightheaded from lack of air. "You're—worse than a Z!"

The man seemed to have heard enough. 10K felt his airway open as the metal pipe fell away, before the man pushed him slightly by the shoulder, and yanked him around so they faced each other. 10K drew in deep breaths of air, trying to steady his legs under him as he levelled a furious gaze on his tormentor.

The man's fingers tightened around 10K's upper arm, and his eyes glittered dangerously. "You're coming with me."

10K glared feverishly at him, twisting his head over his shoulder to see Murphy. Murphy was still lying on his back on the floor, unmoving, eyes shut. "Murphy!" 10K shouted hoarsely.

"Dead men tell no tales," hissed the stranger, and with a quick movement, he swung back an arm and backhanded 10K across the temple.

10K felt blood in his mouth again as his knees collapsed. Before he hit the floor, the stranger had grabbed him around the waist and slung him over a shoulder, like a sack of flour.

10K kicked forward with his knees, landing a hard blow on the man's sternum, and a second later he felt the metal prod being shoved into his side.

His body curled as volts of electricity bristling through his muscles, and the man carried him out of the room. His hands gripped involuntarily into the fabric at the back of the man's shirt as he continued to seize, until finally, he felt the voltage ease and he went limp once more.

He felt them come to an abrupt stop and he realized he had partially lost consciousness. Trying to lift his head up and look around them, he caught an upside-down glimpse of where they were. Dull reddish chains hung from the ceiling inside the room they had arrived outside of, and 10K could see drops of his own blood spattered on the dirty floor beneath the chains.

His heart raced as the man carried him over the threshold and back into the room where they had started.

"Put me down!" He gasped, giving a few hard struggles as they crossed the floor toward the center of the room.

With a menacing laugh, the man obliged. He dropped 10K off his shoulder. When the boy hit the floor he rolled on instinct, trying to catch himself on shaky arms. But before he could raise himself to his knees, a vicious blow connected with his ribs, throwing him back against the wall. He cried out in pain, pulling one of his arms down in front of his stomach to shield himself as he tried to straighten up. By the shattering pains that were spreading up his chest and down his arms with every breath, he knew several of his ribs had been broken by the kick.

The man approached him, leering. "Get up," he ordered.

10K didn't need telling twice. He got tremblingly to his feet, one hand against the wall for support, the other still curled around his ribs as he faced his captor.

"Sorry," said the stranger in an unapologetic murmur, glancing at the way 10K stood. "I probably didn't need to kick so hard. But you made me angry." He was looking at 10K with what could only be described as triumph.

10K kept his eyes on the man, and tried to calm his racing thoughts through the mind-numbing pain in his side. Would he be fast enough to slip by the man through the open door into the hallway? Then he'd make another break for it.. But no… the collar. The man would have him on the ground before he'd gotten ten feet… Was there anything he could use as a weapon? His eyes swept the bare room, finding nothing but dust and the unmade bed.

"Thinking of trying to run again?" The stranger demanded, amused as he studied 10K's face. "You won't get far. You'll only make it worse on yourself."

10K didn't respond as he continued to run through his options in his head. His heart sank lower and lower in his chest as the clarity of his situation made its way to the forefront of his pain-addled brain, and the pain in his ribs reached an almost unbearable height.

"Take off your shirt."

10K stared, completely breathless and without comprehension. "Wh…what?"

The stranger grinned darkly. "You deaf?"

10K didn't move, but his heartbeat sped up and his throat seemed to close of its own accord. He shook his head slowly one way and then the other, gritting his teeth together as he kept his eyes on the man.

"Do it. Now." The stranger held up the electric prod in one hand and the black remote in the other; a clear and unmistakable threat. "I reckon a shock from both of these at the same time might kill you, kid. Then I'd finally have another good zombie for the showcase… too bad the Murphy couldn't turn, too, or I'd almost have my old exhibit back… people would pay a lot to see that, I bet."

"Don't let me turn," said 10K in a voice that cracked with strain. "You gotta kill me the right way—"

"What fun would that be? Anyway, I'm not finished with you yet. I don't want to kill you. Hell, I didn't want to kill the Murphy, but he didn't give me a choice." The man got a sharper look in his eyes as he focused back in on 10K. "I thought I just told you to do something…"

"I won't," said 10K hoarsely, gripping his injured side more tightly.

The stranger let out a kind of hissing growl, moving forward toward 10K, who bent his knees, ready to dodge the attack, despite the sickening pain. But the stranger pressed firmly down on the remote, and for what felt like the hundredth time, high voltage coursed through 10K, and the world tilted as he fell, landing on his side and rolling onto his back. His broken ribs sent bolts of pain all through his body, and a second later, the man was above him again, throwing a leg over his middle and bending down to straddle his hips. He finally released the remote, and held 10K down with both hands against his chest. Gasping for air, eyes streaming from the heat of the searing pain in his broken bones, 10K reached up with one arm to try and shove him off, covering his side with his other arm in an attempt to protect his injury. His knees hit the man's back with little to no effect, and every breath he took sent shock waves of agony through his entire body.

"Get—off—" He cried, doing his best to keep the man's hands away from his injured ribs, but every time he moved either of his arms, the pain tripled. In a few moments he was forced to stop struggling, shutting his eyes tight and forcing back tears.

The man had stopped moving too. "That's better," he hissed, bending slightly closer. "Now… when I tell you to do something, YOU DO IT!"

10K felt flecks of spit hit him in the face. He kept his eyes squeezed shut and his face turned away.

Suddenly, the man raised himself a little, and started tearing at the front of 10K's shirt.

10K inhaled sharply, frantically trying to protect his side from being touched. "NO!" he shouted hoarsely as there was a ripping sound, and the cloth gave way. The man tugged and yanked it roughly until the shirt was split all the way down the front. Then he grabbed 10K by the shoulders, heaving him up, and flipping him over onto his stomach beneath him in one swift movement.

10K retched from the pain that hit him as his body weight crushed downward against his broken ribs. "Please…" he tried to say, but all that came out was a weak gasp.

The man had lowered himself down onto 10K again, sitting on his lower back, one knee on either side. 10K felt like he was slipping out of his body. A strange detachment overcame his senses, and the pain in his ribs lessened slightly as he gratefully welcomed this new state of consciousness without question. As though his body were at a great distance, he vaguely felt his shirt being ripped the rest of the way off, and his arms being twisted behind his back and bound tightly.

"…that's better…" echoed the stranger's voice from very far away, in some distant chamber of 10K's mind. "Not so hard to do as you're told…"

10K felt a hand gripping in the back of his hair, wrenching his head up off the floor. The man had his face against 10K's cheek, inhaling deeply and exhaling his foul breath on 10K's skin.

Foggily, he let it happen, appreciating that his body and mind were calmer now than they had been since before the apocalypse. It almost felt like nothing could really happen, nothing bad, because he wasn't really connected with his body just then. It seemed he was floating nearby it; he could see, hear, and feel what was happening, but it was as though the pain was coming from someone else, and somewhere else. It wasn't his body anymore, it wasn't his pain.

The man's voice echoed again from a great distance. "Get yourself together, kid… this isn't even the best part…"

You can't hurt me, 10K visualized himself saying the words, unsure whether or not they actually came out of his mouth. Nothing you do matters. Nothing matters anymore… and an image of Murphy's lifeless body swam to the surface of his thoughts, the eyes rolling back in the head, the mouth slack, as blood burgeoned slowly from his chest.

"Hey! KID!"

10K opened his eyes. He hadn't realized he had closed them at all. There was a loud snapping sound in 10K's mind, and suddenly he was back in his body. The pain assaulted him anew, like white-hot knives slicing through his nerves, rolling through his stomach. He opened his mouth and took a few gasping breaths.

"Thank you," said the man's voice, dripping with malice and sarcasm. "Are you ready?"

With a great expense of effort, 10K tried to shake his head. "No…" he croaked. "You gotta get off me… my ribs…"

The man gave a derisive snort. "Oh, am I supposed to care that you have a boo-boo, after you destroyed my greatest works? The best accomplishment since before the zombies? People would have paid a fortune for that, you selfish prick!"

"You're insane… no one would have paid… there's no one left to come to your—stupid exhibit—"

The man's weight pushed down cruelly on the middle of 10K's back, forcing another weakened gasp of agony from his lips. "Watch yourself, boy! What is it with you? Seems like you don't care what you say, even when it makes me want to cut out your tongue! But no… I wouldn't do that, I'm not some barbarian. I just want what I want, what man doesn't?"

10K did not answer. He couldn't even struggle. Every shallow breath he took was like raging fire in his side. The way his arms were tied across his back kept a steady pressure against his broken ribs, pushing his blurry thoughts toward darkness once more. He fought the pain and the fog, even though the temptation of leaving his body again was almost overwhelming. But he couldn't fight the weight bearing down on him from behind. He couldn't even lift his head.

The man sat up again on the small of 10K's back, relieving a small amount of pressure from his ribs, but only a little. 10K felt the callused hands slide down across his skin, reaching around so they covered both the boy's hips momentarily. 10K ground his teeth together so hard he was sure the man could hear the sound.

The stranger grabbed ahold of the waistline of 10K's pants, pulling them hard. They slid down over 10K's hips and halfway over his backside, at which point the man stopped, letting out a low sound of anticipation.

"Please…" 10K muttered weakly. His face burned with the pain and the humiliation, and the sense of absolute helplessness seemed to double, letting loose the last of his self-control. His eyes filled with angry tears, which fell down his cheeks and hit the dirty floor. "Please don't…"

"Shut up," growled the man, "You're ruining it for me. Or are you making it better? I can't tell…" he laughed at himself, but the sound was less amused, and more deadly than anything else.

"You don't have to do this…" whispered 10K, his voice muffled.

The man's deadly laugh sounded again. "I know I don't have to. I want to. I've wanted to since I first saw you through the door…"

There was a heightened pressure against his injured side as the man pressed himself down on top of 10K again. He shifted his weight, digging his groin into the small of 10K's back, and maneuvering slightly so he was positioned against the boy's backside.

There was a stinging pain in 10K's back. He only barely felt it above the all-consuming throbbing in his broken bones that dominated his consciousness, but he realized the man's fingernails were digging into the skin on either side of his spine, scraping him hard enough to draw blood.

The fingernails moved downward, and the scraping became a gentle caress as the man pressed harder against his back, eliciting a fresh groan of pain from 10K. He felt his pants being tugged again; sliding lower, pulled almost all the way down, and then he felt the fingers in the elastic hem of his black briefs, pulling and yanking.

Suddenly, there was a loud, unexpected sound. The man let out a shocked grunt, and at the same time, he fell sideways off of 10K's back.

2 FLOORS BELOW, TEN MINUTES AGO…

Roberta Warren and the others made their way up the stairs one behind the other, weapons drawn and at the ready. Warren's eyes were narrowed as they came out in the hallway above, aiming her gun through each open doorway they passed before moving on. Behind her, Addy, Doc, and Vasquez followed, all of them moving in crouching walks, staying close to the walls.

"Up there," hissed Warren, glancing back at them and tilting her head toward a door that was slightly ajar, a hundred yards ahead. Through the opening shone a dull, red light. "Come on…"

The group hugged the wall as they approached the door. Addy's knuckles were white around the handle of her pistol, and she drew a deep breath, before flanking Warren from the back and crossing over to the wall on the other side of the door. She gave Warren a determined nod, to which Warren replied with a nod of her own. Nodding quickly to the others, Warren pushed forward and swung the door the rest of the way open. She followed her gun through it, wielding it in every direction as the group came in behind her.

After a moment, Warren lowered her gun slightly, looking puzzled as she registered the state of the room. It was flooded by a red light, and filled with short podiums that seemed to be set up with care. She moved slowly past the first few platforms, the bewilderment growing on her face. Squinting through the semi-darkness, she tried to see what was written on one of the signs.

"What the… hell?" whispered Doc from the back of the group, his eyes flickering from one of the signs to the platform behind it, "Plant Woman?" But there was nothing behind the podium, or on any of the others around them. "Rad Man…?"

"There—" said Addy quietly, pointing ahead of them to where the reddish light brightened, and the room ended. There was a pile of still bodies on the floor in front of the last platform, which held an empty, throne-like chair. "I think they're dead."

The group surrounded the bodies that littered the floor. Warren kicked one of them over, staring down at it with a deep frown. "They were all Z's," she said in a troubled voice, gazing around at the other bodies. "Looks like they were all killed at once, by the same weapon... And that's definitely a phyto."

Addy stepped forward, also frowning. "How did a phyto get this far west?"

But Doc was looking thoughtful, an expression of understanding dawning on his face. "Plant Woman," he said, nodding. "Must mean phyto. And Rad Man? There's a blaster there, look. I think these zombies…" he trailed off uncertainly, frowning deeply.

"They were on display," Warren finished for him, her tone grim as she caught on. She looked around at the platforms with new comprehension and a large measure of disgust.

"Hang on… what's that?" Addy whispered, her eyes forward. She had spotted something on the last, and biggest, platform, beside the empty chair. She crossed to it and bent down, straightening up with a piece of painted cardboard in her hand. Her eyes skimmed it as she turned back to the group, but she stopped walking, her expression freezing mid-step.

"What is it?" Demanded Warren in an undertone, grasping her gun as she went to Addy's side, and looked down at the cardboard sign.

In bright letters, embellished with glittering paint, were the words, 'THE MURPHY, AND HIS AMAZING ZOMBIE BOY.'

The sound of a gunshot ripped through the air, and the entire group turned as one, their eyes fixed on the ceiling.