A/N: Ummm… I really hope you won't beat me to death with a cricket bat for this chapter…

Still don't own them, sadly :(

Chapter 15

The noise from outside the room was getting louder and closer while Wickham was watching the subject's status on the screen, barely paying attention to the distractions. It was only when the door burst open that he realized that something was really out of place, as two people he didn't know, a man and a woman, walked in, both looking like they had just had some physical exercise. Wickham swallowed. He was in trouble.

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Brandt's throat was sore and his stomach felt like it was doing flips inside him.

"What do you mean, self destruction?" he asked as if not truly understanding the meaning of those words. Mike's glare was all it took for him to shake himself.

"Where is he then?" this question seemed much more sensible. The analyst took Mike's hand and pulled him up but the movement was too rushed and caused the other man to gasp.

"I… I don't know," Mike's voice was shaking with despair and worry. The energy that had come over him a minute before was gone now. He didn't want to run any more. He simply had no idea where to run.

Brandt shut his eyes. Everything was just too crazy. His friend was about to self destruct like a message from the headquarters (the analyst mentally slapped himself in the back of the head for such a comparison), and there was nothing he could do about it, even though Benji couldn't be far away. Suddenly he had an idea.

"So you're saying Wickham has the controls?" he asked. After receiving a shaky nod he fished the guard's phone from his pocket (he knew it was a good idea to have taken it with him) and dialed the number. He could only pray for Jane and Ethan to be already there. And to be alive and well. After of few painful seconds he finally heard his leader's voice and didn't wait for him to ask any questions.

"Ethan, have you reached Wickham?" he asked instead, his heart pounding like a miniature drum kit in his chest.

"Yes…" Ethan sounded a bit distracted. "We can't make sense out of what he's saying… The experiment… The subject… self destruction… Where are you, anyway?"

"Ask him where Benji is," Brandt interrupted. "He's somewhere in this building. You have to ask directly. Everyone's crazy over here".

"Benji?" Jane's voice sounded. Apparently Ethan had turned the call on loud speaker for some reason. Maybe to have more convenience in dealing with Wickham. "Is he…"

Brandt knew she wanted to ask whether the tech was still alive. He wanted to say yes. He hoped they were not too late. But the longer they spoke, the more time they wasted.

"We don't have the time," he barked instead.

"You heard the question," Ethan's voice was cold and demanding. For a few seconds there was silence after which Jane let out a gasp.

"What is it?" Brandt asked impatiently.

"He's in a small room near the laboratory," Ethan sounded completely calm. Brandt knew this tone. It wasn't the genuine calm. It was the tone people put on when they try to calm down and not give up to the panic.

"Got it," the former analyst disconnected and turned to Mike. He really hoped to get some help from the guy. He also hoped that the dark spots in his eyes wouldn't turn into complete darkness. At least for now.

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Everything was becoming clearer. Benji could actually feel the blinding white get away from his sight, as his senses were coming back to him. He wasn't painless any more. It was actually relieving to feel pain in his shoulder, his ribs, somewhere inside his abdomen, his hand he had hit the wall with and his… forehead? What on earth had happened to it? Benji touched it and felt some sticky liquid. Already knowing what it was, he looked at his hand to see the blood which was beginning to dry out. Where had it all come from? And why was he feeling so odd at the moment?

He began recalling whatever he could remember about any of the recent events. It was like a slide show. He vaguely remembered pointing a gun and Brandt. Blood on his friend's arm. Pain. Shooting the Suit Guy. More pain. Having to throw the gun away just to be safe, in order not to hurt Brandt any more. Or anyone else, for that matter. More pain, too much this time. And then everything was blank.

Benji looked around him, trying to figure out where he was. It was only then that he noticed some strange smell. It was something he could barely register but he didn't know how important or irrelevant it was. He wanted to get out. He rushed to the door, hissing and wincing all the time as his broken ribs were letting him know about themselves. However, when he tried to open the door, he realized he couldn't. It seemed to be automatic, and there was nothing inside the room he could use for control. He suddenly felt dizzy and nauseous. His lungs clearly knew there was something wrong with the air. And then it hit him.

Of course… the Suit Guy wouldn't trust the crazy Wickham with the project. Therefore the subject of the experiment needed to be removed. The gas he was breathing now was most likely poisonous.

A sudden wave of panic came over the former technician like a hurricane. He didn't want to die. He wanted to get out. Wanted to live. He ran into the door, hitting it with all of his weight. He started knocking at it with his fist. He didn't know how long he had been going until exhaustion combined with the effects of the poison kicked in, and he fell heavily to the floor, unable to move anymore.

That's it. I'm trapped.

He was scared. It was natural though. As natural as breathing. As natural as pain. All of the pain he was feeling now was real. He wasn't a robot anymore. Or a puppet. Or a zombie. He was alive. He hadn't felt as alive as now in the past days. And after all that numbness, he had an impression that he had never felt so alive in his entire life. And he was going to die.

His thoughts were running messily in his head, tripping over one another and falling over like characters in a scene from a silent comedy film. He tried to think of something good. He remembered his friends. Mike (I hope you are alright), Ethan, Jane, Brandt… He practically saw their faces in front of him, hearing pieces of conversations he had had with them.

It was getting harder to breathe. Benji wondered whether holding his breath would help. No it wouldn't, you idiot, he answered to himself. So you can breathe. At least it's an action. Something to make an effort for, to show you are still alive.

And so he did. He breathed in and out. And in. And out. He wondered which one (in or out) would be the last one. He never found out. Soon there was the moment when there was an "out" but no "in" after it. But Benji was already unable to register anything at that point, completely consumed by the darkness. The last thing he had registered, however, had sounded a lot like Brandt shouting from a long distance…

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A little red dot on Wickham's screen had been twinkling with increasing intensity for the past two minutes before disappearing. Wickham nodded to himself despite being held at gunpoint. Mr. Benzie's last wish had come true.

"The experiment is over," he proclaimed to himself as he watched his captors exchange alarmed looks.