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Holotape Log 11
Test isn't waking up. I even made Charon shoot the ceiling – well, cause he kinda looks cool doing that and the sound breaks my ears. Test just jerks up then goes back to sleep. I wanna say that he's gonna die peacefully, but he…he's bleeding from his eyes… Fuck it. I'm gonna bring him to the Chop Shop.
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Charon stared at him like he was waiting for Knox to command him to carry Test. Knox didn't, merely shifted Test onto another shoulder as they made their way down to the Museum. The shotgun was still in the bodyguards' hands, pumped and ready. Test was incredibly light. He felt like a part of the wall in the building: old and decayed. The other ferals didn't seem to be bothered by them for some reason. It was the dead. They didn't smell much different than the living ferals.
Cerberus greeted him with a short metallic cry then accompanied them to the Chop Shop. Doc Barrows was upset yet again.
"What happened to him?" Barrows said, ruined lips pursed, stethoscope ready.
"He's dying, Doc."
"I know that. What happened?"
"I don't know," Knox said, running a palm over Test's forehead. "I don't fucking know." He placed all holotapes onto the desk, then leaned down to whisper something in Test's ear. Barrow checked the feral's pulse, glancing at the smoothskin who was tying restraints around Test's wrists. Knox, feeling a ripple of unease pass through his body, pulled the collar of the tunnel snake jacket up and turned to leave.
"Where are you going?"
"I need to kill something," Knox said as he unholstered his Blackhawk, already loading it with .44s. "I'll bring you some souvenirs." Charon followed closely behind, casting a lingering gaze over the supine feral on the cot. He banged the door shut behind them.