Tourniquet
(And the moment you've all been waiting for... I think... I hope I did this well; I'm sure you'll let me know. Kay, enjoy!)
Chapter 15The sound of heavy boots came slowly closer to the two prosecutors as a sadistic laugh filled the air. Finally, Edgeworth was able to turn his head to look behind him, and immediately recognized the man Wright had been locked in combat with. However, he now realized just how big this man really was.
The man was well over six feet tall and was very well built. He had a tanned skin tone and greasy black hair that fell to his ears and extended a few inches lower in the back. His face was hardened, covered in scars and complete with a short beard on his chin and around his mouth. His eyes were cold and black, the final touch to his malicious appearance. Miles was sure this was Sanders, and he knew immediately that this was going to be one difficult fight.
Taking in a deep breath, Miles placed Franziska carefully back on the floor as he worked to regain his composure. He stood up and turned to face the killer, taking a few steps forward to show that he wasn't about to back down.
"Well, well, well," Brad laughed, stopping his advances. "Feeling brave, are we? Do you really think you should be out here with that little wound you have there?"
"I'm not afraid of you, Sanders," Miles stated, giving the other man a death glare. "Mark my words: you will pay for what you've done to her."
Brad's sadistic smirk widened. "What I've done to her? Funny. I was under the impression that this made two of us."
This taunt was all it took for Miles' anger to explode within him. He lunged at the larger man and knocked him to the ground, all the while attempting to throttle him. Brad retaliated by thrusting his elbow into Edgeworth's stomach, causing him to curl into a ball on the floor, blood shooting from his open mouth as he began coughing.
Wasting no time in continuing his assault, Brad stood and lifted Miles from where he lay all the way up over his head with ease, proceeding to power bomb him through a glass table in one corner of the room. Though the vest protected his torso from the shards of glass, the impact winded him and he received several cuts on his head and neck.
As he lay gasping for air, Brad knelt over him, a rather large shard held in his right hand. The killer leaned down closer to Miles and held the sharp piece of glass at his throat. "Don't worry," he said, a mocking smile on his face. "I won't kill you yet; I'd like to have a bit of fun first. What do you say?"
Unable to fight back any other way in this position, Miles' response was to spit a mouthful of blood into his attacker's eyes. His methods proved effective and he was able to bring a knee up and knock the larger man away. Without hesitating, Miles pushed himself up and grabbed hold of the nearest object he could lift, which was a loose piece of plywood that was leaning up against the wall beside him.
A loud crack filled the room as he broke the plank over Brad's head, knocking him the rest of the way to the floor. Miles immediately began the search for another foreign object he could use, having realized that hand-to-hand combat against this guy was impossible.
His eyes fell upon a fire extinguisher on the wall on the other side of the room and he took off toward it, punching through the fragile glass casing in front of it and turning around again. Brad had risen and was charging him; he had to act quickly. Praying the thing was working properly, he pulled the pin out and squeezed the handle, releasing a high-tension spray of foamy liquid that successfully took his opponent down once again. After he released the handle, the white foam began to settle to the floor, leaving a cloud in the middle of the room and concealing Brad.
Miles took this brief reprieve to try and catch his breath. His lungs were burning and his ribs hurt badly, even more so in the area where he had been shot. He was gasping for air through clenched teeth, the pain now becoming almost unbearable. His hands were trembling uncontrollably as they still clutched the heavy metal object tightly. Even though he had released all the pressure, he could still use it to defend himself.
He almost didn't duck in time to avoid the large lead pipe that suddenly came flying toward his head from the cloud of white foam. Brad rushed at him again, and Miles flung the fire extinguisher at him with all the force he could muster. It collided with the other man's chest and he doubled over in pain, at which point Miles ran at him and leapt in the air, delivering a powerful kick to the side of his head. They both fell this time, and Edgeworth found that getting up was not going to be easy for him. He was hoping now for some back-up, but something told him that the others were incapable of coming to his aid. He could hear no more gunshots or sounds of battle from anywhere else in the house, telling him that theirs was the only one taking place. He was sure that everyone else had to be either incapacitated, or worse…
Both men struggled to get back on their feet before the other could, and to his horror, Miles discovered that Brad would be the winner of this little race. This was bad news for the injured prosecutor, and it became even worse when Sanders retrieved the lead pipe he had thrown earlier. This time, he was unable to move quickly enough and was pelted in the back of the neck, laying him out again.
Next, Brad took to bashing him in the right shoulder, soon disabling his entire arm. The red liquid was now pouring from Edgeworth's mouth, and he couldn't escape this abuse no matter how hard he tried to. Now, he only had one working arm, making any sort of swift movement impossible while he was on the ground.
He heard the 'clink' of the pipe being discarded and almost breathed a sigh of relief before he felt Brad grasp both of his shoulders. "Now," Sanders panted, "let's see what we can do about that bullet wound of yours." He forced Miles onto his left side and held him still. With one hand, he brought his victim's limp right arm up past his head and placed his other hand on the man's hip. He then pushed his hands in separate directions, straining the skin on Edgeworth's right side.
The prosecutor suddenly felt an intense heat begin at the wounded area and spread throughout his entire upper body, followed by a searing pain. He gave an anguished scream as a massive amount of blood quickly seeped through the fibers of his vest and into the black, long-sleeve shirt he wore. The wound had been torn open and he was now bleeding freely again.
Satisfied with his work, Brad once more lifted Miles' broken body into the air and slammed him hard against a wall. The prosecutor fell into a crumpled heap on the floor, having lost all remaining capability to fight.
Though he was quite winded, Brad began laughing again, his victory attained. "Good show, boy!" he roared triumphantly. "It's just too bad you couldn't put up more of a fight."
With a groan of agony, Miles turned his gaze to the woman lying on the other side of the room, appearing to be completely unaware of what was going on around her. Bitter sadness, regret, and self-hatred were what he felt now. He had failed her; after all the promises he had made, after all the times he had put himself in harm's way to protect her, after she had given herself to him to save his life, he had failed her. He couldn't save her this time, nor could he save himself.
His feelings had obviously shown through, for Brad made a noise of mock sympathy. "Oh, that's too bad. Another love story ends in tragedy. It's a shame really; she was the only one who need have died, but I guess now you won't have to suffer a life all alone." With one more sick laugh, he turned away from Miles and began slowly heading back across the room. "However, since you're here anyway, you will have the privilege of watching me fuck her to death!"
Miles cringed at the grading sound of that man's laughter, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his teeth in pure hate. He felt helpless and doomed, and he couldn't stop what was about to happen to her. There was nothing he could do now except lie in wait for the end. There was a moment of absolute dread that felt like an eternity, and then…
BANG! BANG!
An awful scream shattered all thoughts that had been running through his mind, a deafening shriek of pain that reverberated multiple times off the bare walls and ceiling. Miles kept his eyes tightly shut until the echoes died away, at which time he realized…
…The scream had belonged to a man.
Cautiously, Miles reopened his eyes and blinked to clear his vision. The silence was pressing as he began to scan the room, first looking to its entrance. The broken door still hung upon, but no one stood near it; no one had come in, which had to mean only one thing.
His gaze slowly shifted to the sight directly across the room from him, and his mouth dropped open at what he saw.
Brad lay motionless on the floor in a slightly curled position, very close to where Franziska still lay. Miles gasped when he saw her, his attention immediately drawn to the fact that her left hand rested on top of his discarded pistol. Her eyes were closed now, leading him to conclude that she had fallen unconscious.
Amazed, he looked over at Sanders once more to see the large amount of blood staining the carpet around him. He gagged suddenly when he noticed that the source of all this blood was the man's genital area. That was all it took; Miles retched violently, vomiting up more blood and his last meal.
A strange gargling noise rose in his throat as he tried to summon the last amount of his strength and push himself onto all fours. After an enormous amount of effort, he managed it and began to shakily crawl across the room--using only one arm--toward Franziska's unconscious form, leaving a red trail in his wake. He forced himself to ignore the pain; he had to reach her.
When he finally came to her side, he placed his left hand upon the gun, having to lean on it for suppose since his right arm was still limp. He looked to the side to see that Brad was still breathing, and the hatred rose in him again. This was it.
Miles pushed himself up onto his knees and held the pistol in his left hand. His entire body was shaking, and he gripped his weapon as tightly as he could to try and steady his hand. His aim was dead on, and his finger rested upon the trigger.
"…putting that gun to his head and letting that bullet fly will be the hardest thing you have ever had to do."
He suddenly realized just how heavy his breathing was and how white his knuckles had become. No, he had to do this; there was no reason for him not to. This man had hurt too many people and Edgeworth felt that it was his duty and right to pull the trigger. However, his hand seemed to be ignoring the order from his brain. 'Goddamn it!' he screamed inside his head, 'Fire it! Blow this bastard's brains out!'
Miles squeezed his eyes shut once more, his entire body tensing again. A strained growl of frustration was the last sound before the deafening 'BANG' split the air. A rumbling shock was sent up his arm and into his shoulder and neck.
Dead silence set in. His brain was numb and his body seemed to be frozen in ice. The scene was like a still frame for three long seconds, and then the gun dropped from his hand. His body followed suit, and everything faded to black.