Morrison wasn't a person who flew off the handle often. He liked to stay calm, cool, and collected, and use his composure to be able to stay a few steps ahead of opponents. A flashy style like his just didn't hold up well under the stress of unadulterated rage.

Still, he felt really good about the idea of going completely postal on the enormous bastard he was hot on the heels of. He'd only managed to get off a couple of shots from the gun, he wasn't sure how many there were left, but that was all right. He felt confident that he could outlast the prick in a running contest and when the huge son of a bitch finally collapsed, Morrison was going to be ready for him. There had to be at least one bullet left and that was one bullet more than he needed to finish Alexander off.

"Johnny! Johnny, wait!" His arm was grabbed, but Morrison grunted and shrugged off the grip, still running, eyes locked on the back of the enemy as he was sprinting away.

"I'm not letting him get away, Jeff! He's a sick evil fuck and he's obviously not gonna just go away and I'm gonna end it!"

"Johnny, we can't do this, we need to get back with the others, we need to get the hell out of here!"

"You go back, you get out of here, this is personal!"

"Johnny, I'm not leaving you alone, now come on, we need to go back!"

Morrison didn't answer, Alexander had ducked around a corner and he was determined to catch up before the guy could slip away. He dug in, starting to sprint around the corner, almost stumbling in his haste to catch up to the bastard.

He saw a second too late that Alexander was waiting for him around the corner, and felt the kick in his chest just as he realized it was coming. He let out a strangled gasp of pain from the force of his own momentum being brought to a halt, knocked backwards onto the pavement hard enough to cause him to somersault backwards before landing splayed on the sidewalk, aware once again a second too late that the gun had come out of his hand as he fell and had landed at the giant bastard's feet, and he was already scooping it up.

"Johnny!" Jeff came skidding to a stop, not seeing what had happened, and before he could turn, Alexander had lashed out, grabbing hold of his forearm and yanking him backwards, slinging his free arm around Jeff's neck. Jeff grunted, grabbing at his arm and trying to pop loose of the headlock, but even as he did, the barrel of the gun jammed into his temple.

"Quit moving or I'm gonna see what color your head is on the inside," Alexander smirked, tightening his hold enough to ensure escape wasn't going to be easy.

"Jeff!" Morrison gasped out, scrambling to his feet.

"And here we are again, twice in the one day," Alexander purred. "It's almost enough to make a man think maybe you two like hanging around me."

"Get your goddamn hands off me!" Jeff snarled, still pushing at the man's arm, but Alexander jabbed him with the gun hard enough to cause a spike of pain, warning Jeff to keep still.

"Krugman ain't here to tell me no, either," Alexander said, grinning. "I think that means I can have him."

"Let him go," Morrison said, holding his hands up some. "Just...just take it easy, okay, just let him go..."

"You were trying to use this on me, you know," Alexander replied, holding up the gun, but slapping it back to Jeff's temple when removing it caused Jeff to start squirming and struggling again. "You shot at me and you were going to try and kill me and I haven't done one thing to you. Hell, I've been a pretty nice guy, I think."

"Look, let him go, you don't have to hurt him..."

"I know I don't have to hurt him, you idiot. But why wouldn't I?" Alexander smiled nastily. "I like hurting people. I like it a fucking lot. Why else would I have taken a job like this? I get paid to freak people out all damn day long, torture them all I want to. Shit, everyone they have doing the grunt work is someone they pulled out of a prison, gave us this as our third option...do you have any idea about the kind of crap I can get away with now that I have government mandate to do it?"

Morrison winced, shaking his head. "You don't gotta do this, okay, you don't..."

"You get all scared and whiny when he's gonna get hurt, don't'cha?" Alexander roamed his eyes over Morrison wantonly. "All...hot and bothered, I'd say..."

"You son of a bitch..." Jeff growled.

"I've always had a special place in my heart for pretty boys," Alexander replied. "Between the two of you..." He paused a moment, then leaned his head down, sniffing deeply at Jeff's hair, his grin, if possible, getting even sicker. "I think the three of us could do some beautiful things together. Walk away from all this madness and just run away, go somewhere nice and quiet, just us...doctors from the testing said that was bad thought, they tried to get all these urges out of me, but I don't think they did such a good job, or maybe it's just that you two are so nice to hang around..."

Jeff grunted and pulled at Alexander's arm frantically, trying to wriggle away even with the gun at his head, but the giant just tightened his hold, taking a step back against the side of the building. "Let me go!" he hissed. "Let me go, goddamnit!"

"Please..." Morrison said softly. "Just let him go, you might hurt him by mistake..."

"I'm not gonna shoot him unless you make me...Johnny, was it? I'm just gonna scooch back here a little bit, wait on my ride to find me, and then we're going away. You can come or not, but I would like it very much if you did..."

"Just let go of him," Morrison pleaded. "I...I'll go with you, I will, okay? But you have to let him go, please, he's...he's got a family to get home to, you can't-,"

"Everybody's got a family, Johnny, that don't make nobody special," Alexander said. "All the pretties I've played with before have families, every subject the government gave me for fun had a family." He leaned in again, lowering the gun to hold it under Jeff's chin, forcing him to tilt his head back and stop his struggles, nuzzling his nose against Jeff's cheek lightly, then suddenly flicking his tongue against his captive's skin. "I like the two of you..."

"Oh God, please...stop it, please..." Morrison said softly, holding up his hands. "Let him go..."

"Maybe if you beg me real pretty..." Alexander said, taking the barrel of the gun and trailing it down Jeff's front, stopping it just below his belly button, leaving it pointed downwards in a vaguely lewd position. "Maybe if you drop down on your knees and beg me, let me see what it looks like, I might do something nice for you."

"Stop it!" Jeff gasped out, trying to push the weapon away, going still when Alexander just used that arm to pull him in closer, almost embracing him, the other arm still around his neck. "Johnny, don't!"

"Beg me," Alexander said, the slightly jovial tone dropping from his voice, taking on a menacing growl. "Beg me or else, Johnny."

Morrison winced, but slowly dropped down to one knee, still holding his hands up. "P-please let him go...don't hurt him...just please don't hurt him..."

"Hey!" Cena's voice broke in, as he and Keith came rushing up from the street, Keith already brandishing his weapon at Alexander. "Let him go and back off, you fuck!"

"Make me!" Alexander snarled, cramming the barrel of the pistol back to Jeff's temple, even as Keith stepped up, aiming his own gun. "Put it down or I'll blow his brains all over the street!"

"You're a sociopathic sadistic monster and if I put my gun down, you'll take him away and do worse than kill him," Keith replied evenly. "I know all about the kind of shit you were in prison for, and why the government brought you in, and what you did to the subjects you were put with. Letting you shoot him in the head would be the kindest thing I could do." Keith drew back the hammer on the back of the gun. "Let him go or I'm going to kill you."

"You wouldn't have the balls, you sack of shit!" Alexander shouted, whipping the gun away from Jeff to point it at Keith. "I'd-!"

The instant the gun was pointed away, Jeff threw back his foot, landing a hard mule kick between Alexander's legs, causing the giant to let out a strangled yip of pain, which was enough distraction for Cena to charge forward, jumping and tackling him hard, slapping at the arm holding the gun. The gun went off, deflecting harmlessly into the street and sending chips of concrete flying, and Jeff shrieked but was able to duck and twist himself away, scrambling forward and out of grabbing range, as Alexander was knocked to the ground, Cena wrestling his arm down to keep the weapon pointed away from them.

"You got some serious fucking issues, buddy!" Cena growled, grabbing the gun and managing to wrench it away, tossing it behind him. "You got some-,"

"Tabula Rasa!" Alexander abruptly shouted out.

The change was instant. Cena had been drawing his fist back to start punching the lights out of the giant, but the instant those words left Alexander's mouth, Cena's body went completely rigid, and he toppled sideways onto the sidewalk, blinking dumbly up at the sky. Alexander was up in a second, turning and bolting down the street as Keith moved closer and knelt beside Cena. "Hey...hey, buddy? Hey, are you all right?"

Cena blinked a few more times, then jolted as though coming out of a deep sleep, grunting and sitting up quickly. "What the hell...what happened? Where are we?"

"Are you okay? It was like you just froze up for a second."

"I what? I just...where's the freak?" He glanced around, getting back to his feet. "Crap, did he get away? Wait, how's...?" Cena turned, looking over. "Jeff?"

Jeff was huddled on the sidewalk, leaning against the building, staring after the way Alexander had run. Morrison was already at his side, reaching out to touch his shoulders. "Jeff? Jeff, are you okay?"

"Don't...don't touch me..." Jeff said softly, still staring after Alexander, reaching up to brush away Morrison's hands.

"Jeff, it's okay, it's over with..." Morrison said, trying to touch his arm.

"I said don't touch me!" Jeff practically leapt to his feet, one hand over the side of his head where the gun had been, the other resting at the base of his throat as though to guard it from attack.

"Hey, are you okay?" Keith asked, carefully moving to tuck his pistol away.

"No! No, okay, I am not fucking okay! I am not okay! I've been shot at, nearly blown up, held hostage twice, I'm not okay! I just nearly got molested and killed by a fucking sadist pervert because the government had to fuck around with my brother's girlfriend's dead husband and I am not okay!"

"Jeff, calm down, man," Cena started to say.

"Come on, Jeff, it's all right," Morrison interrupted him, trying again to grip his shoulders, but Jeff jerked away from him.

"This was your goddamn fault!" he screamed, voicing taking on a shrill note. "I told you to stop, I told you we had to get back and you just had to go off after him like for no fucking reason because you got pissed he touched me before and you almost got me fucking killed so just shut up about how all right it is when this is your fault!"

Morrison flinched at the words, but Keith's voice took on a measured level of calm, the practiced voice of someone who had talked people down hundreds of times before. "Jeff, you're getting hysterical. It's over with now and you need to take a breath, be calm, think about what you're saying-,"

"I'm perfectly calm!!" Jeff stepped back some, starting to shake his hands out as though to remove some offending substance. "I'm perfectly calm and fine and sane and normal and we need to go back, all right?? We have to get the fuck away from this godforsaken place!" He turned back the way they'd come, setting off at a brisk and somewhat awkward pace, still shaking out his hands and brushing at his arms, voice cracking as he called back to them. "Hurry up!"

Keith looked to Cena. "I think your friend is reaching the end of his proverbial rope," he said, turning to follow after him.

"We shouldn't be having to deal with this shit," Cena muttered, looking to the stricken Morrison. "Come on, man, we gotta move. He's just freaked out and I can't really blame him. He'll settle down in a little bit."

Morrison sighed softly, nodding and starting after them. "Yeah...okay..."

"If that creep comes back again, maybe you better let one of the rest of us handle him. He pushes your buttons a little bit too hard. Besides, he's a big dude, maybe, you know, too big for you to handle alone. Just...you know...there's plenty of reasons not to go after him."

Morrison nodded morosely, sighing. "Whatever I gotta do."

Cena started to say something else, but stopped when there was a loud honk, and he glanced up, blinking at the sight of a white hearse, of all things, pulling up from around the corner. "What in the hell is this now?"

The front passenger's window rolled down, and Chavo leaned out, waving to them. "Get in!"

"You have got to be fucking kidding me."

Josh leaned over from the driver's seat, yelling. "Hey, don't run off and leave me alone and tell me to come up with a plan and then poo on it when you see it. I only have the one plan, and it pretty much involves stealing the nearest large vehicle and running away with it, and it was either this or a refrigerated truck. Now get in!"

Cena closed his eyes and shook his head slowly, but hurried around to the back door, which swung open, revealing the others settled on the floor in the back, squashed together as best they could. "Please tell me you didn't have to shove a body out of here to steal it."

"Just get in!" Batista spat.

Cena shook his head. "This is ri-goddamn-diculous," he muttered, gesturing for Jeff, Morrison, and Keith to crawl in first before scooting in himself, reaching out to grab the large back door and yanking it closed, and Josh pulled off again, heading down the street.

"So what now?" Beth asked, wincing, still holding her head.

"We get far away, hopefully far enough away...then we can look for the tracker and hopefully remove it..." Keith said, shifting a bit to try and get comfortable in his spot against the hearse's wall.

There was silence for a bit, none of them feeling the mood to converse much at the moment. Before the silence could stretch out too long, Rey, in a soft, tremoring voice, whispered something unintelligible to Eddie, who smiled some.

"That's right, holmes," he said back to whatever Rey had asked him. "Told you we wouldn't let him get you, and we didn't."

Rey chewed his lip, lowering his head as though to think this over. "So...so he really can't just grab me back when he wants."

"He can't. You're safe from him now, Rey-Rey."

"So...so I guess...maybe this isn't really Hell?" He looked up at Eddie, a so-far foreign but not at all unwelcome expression of hope darting momentarily across his face. "You're gonna take me home?"

"We're going to take you home." Eddie nodded, hugging him closer. "It's all going to be okay soon, I promise."

From where he was sitting across from them, Batista allowed himself a faint smile. That was the first time so far that Rey seemed to have thought about that what they were telling him was the truth and what the hospital had driven into him might not be. It wasn't much, it certainly made no promises that Rey was even close to really believing them and he certainly wasn't yet recovering from what he'd been through. But it was something, it was a start. It was the first hint that he might be able to find his way back from the edge of insanity, that there was something left to save and not just a damaged shell.

Now so long as the rest of them could hold themselves together until this was done, they'd be in the clear. That might actually prove to be the hardest part of this whole situation. Batista leaned back and closed his eyes, focusing on taking long, deep breaths. It would be impossible to relax just yet, but going through the motions helped to put his mind at ease. Right now they needed every little bit they could get.