Hello there once again,
I know, I told you, I would update sooner, I didn't expect to take this long. I also didn't expect this chapter to have almost 10k words. I probably should have split this thing somewhere down the middle, I just didn't really find a suitable place. Well anyways, hopefuly you'll enjoy it despite, or maybe because, of the length. Comments are appreciated. And to all of you, Happy Winter Solstice! (or whatever you choose to celebrate)
Thank you and have fun
P.S.: I passed my anatomy! Yay!
P.P.S.: Spell check is gone from doc manager. Noooo! Now everybody will know, that I have no idea how many Ls are there in adverbs. Noooo! And everybody will know, that those chapters full of spelling errors are actualy the edited versions. NOOOO!
Connection
The shells connected and detonated with small delay, reducing the mutant to heaps of scorched and shredded meat. A quake shook the building as the blast detonated the charges in the closest wall. A chain of explosions flew along the concrete and in the next moment a portion of the outer wall blew outwards, chunks of the reinforced ferro-crete raining on the asphalt below. Secondary explosions spread like wildfire across the whole storey and down to the lower floors, obliterating the exterior wall and leaving only the heavy steel-framing behind. The floor sagged and crumbled in places, creating the unsettling feeling of imbalance.
Anderson pressed herself against a wall, making herself as little as possible, covering her head with her arms. A chasm opened under her feet and with a muffled yelp she retreated further away into the back of the corridor, dancing between the falling pieces of debris as the floor came crashing down. Panicked, she ran, the floor crumbling under her steps until she reached a spot where the explosions didn't spread anymore and the surroundings got a little more stable.
The echo of the last explosion died down and dead silence filled the hospital, only the dust falling quietly, coating the world into soft shades of white and grey. The fine cement dust that flitted all over the place settled on Anderson's head and shoulders in a thick grey layer, her every movement sending small clouds of it into the air. When she closed her mouth, she could feel the small particles grind between her teeth and mix with saliva, turning into fine mud.
The silence was broken by a soft static-laden hum. „WELL," Bob started, the arrogance in his voice faltering slightly. „I ADMIT, I MIGHT HAVE GONE A LITTLE OVER BOARD WITH ALL THE EXPLOSIVES." he commented. „I WOULD ADVISE YOU NOT TO DO THAT AGAIN."
„Yeah, no shit." Anderson coughed and wiped away the muddy streaks that ran down her face as her eyes desperately tried to rid themselves of the cement. She looked looked around and a jolt of panic coursed through her, because save for the initial twenty meters, where the roof collapsed, the entire first third of the corridor was obliterated, leaving behind only the charred and bent metal frame. The place, where she expected Dredd to be, was gone, replaced by parts of collapsed roof. She called out and one of the things she took for a concrete slab, moved, spat out a mouthful of mud and wiped the visor of its helmet.
Dredd, still looking more like a piece of concrete than man, painfully pulled himself upright and scanned his surroundings, noticing the chasm separating them. Anderson could practically feel him curse as he looked around again, then moved to the nearest cross-girder, checking its stability. It held, but that was just a partial victory, since at the height of two-hundred and fifty meters the wind came rushing at dizzying speed. Steadily and with great care Dredd traversed the chasm, walking bent forward, keeping his centre of mass low, but holding on only with his left hand, keeping the right one close to his chest.
„Nice balancing act." Anderson commented, once he reached her side of the hallway.
She didn't even need to imagine the glare he threw her, for a moment it felt like staring into the wrong end of an auto-canon. „Blow me." he growled and began snapping his disjointed digits into place.
„Right here, right now?" she cocked her eyebrow at him, deliberately letting her smile be just a little suggestive.
He groaned irritably and took a deep breath. „You okay, Rookie? No concussion?" he asked.
„Peachy. You?" she grinned.
„AND ME? DOES NO ONE CARE IF I'M ALL RIGHT? I LOST FIFTY PEOPLE IN THAT BLAST. AND DOCTOR REUBENS. DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IS IT TO FIND SUCH A BRILLIANT GENETIC ENGINEER SPECIALISED ON CHROMOSOME INDEL MODIFICATION, WHO ON TOP OF THAT HAS A TALENT FOR BIONICS? YOU HAVE BETTER CHANCE OF FINDING A UNICORN." came a whine from the speaker.
Anderson rolled her eyes and scoffed. „And I suppose it isn't enough for you to surrender, is it?" she asked, not really expecting a positive answer.
Unsurprisingly, she didn't get one. „WELL, NO, NO SUCH THING." laughed the hidden spectator. „BUT I'M STARTING TO COUNT BIGGER LOSSES." he said, the happiness in his voice unfitting, considering the topic. „SO, NOW THAT OUR HAPPY COUPLE IS REUNITED, LET'S CONTINUE. THE BIG QUESTION IS: AM I GOING TO RUN OUT OF CANNON FODDER BEFORE YOU RUN OUT OF BULLETS?"
He didn't. The mutant minions swarmed from the nearby rooms and didn't cease their coming no matter how many were mowed down before them or how many fell to their deaths, the alterations to their brains preventing instincts like fear or self-preservation. After three minutes the empty click of a magazine was heard for the first time as Dredd's FMJ munition ran out, quickly followed by Anderson's Hot-shotsand so on. Neither of the Judges dared to shoot with Hi-Ex, both very much aware of the possibility of setting off a chain reaction that would throw the entire building on their heads and neither of them ready to risk it.
Anderson somersaulted, dodging the blow directed at her kidneys and hit the attacker one of her last stun-shots. He retaliated and struck a blow to her side, drawing the air out of her, while another charged her, jagged shrapnels sticking out of his forearms. She cursed and jumped back to bring distance between her and the horde. At the last second she noticed an incoming stab and twirled, the blade landing only a glancing blow to her thigh. Fingers closed around her elbow with an iron grip. She shifted her weight and moved to break the hand that held her but halted when she noticed the familiar black leather of Dredd's uniform.
He pulled her out of the way of an incoming blow and nodded grimly. „Left." he growled and dispatched a mutant that tried to behead him. Anderson dodged the blade that would rip her from crotch to the neck and stabbed the attacker between the ribs. Or at least that was the plan, but instead of the characteristic wet sigh of pierced lungs, she heard a sharp crack and the knife split down the middle. The mutant hissed and moved to return the favor.
In the last second Anderson moved out of the way of incoming blades, all four of them, and delivered a direct to the mutant's temple. He let out a raspy mad howl and pirouetted, turning into a bladed whirlwind, cutting down several of its kind. Anderson leaped out of the reach of the blades, fully aware of the fact that every subsequent step brought her further away from her only ally in the building. A blade slipped along the collar of her uniform, leaving behind a shallow cut, but that was just a distraction, because in the next moment the remaining blades hacked at her midriff.
With a curse she shifted sideways, letting the thicker parts of her uniform deflect two of the strikes. The third hit her just above the left hip and her vision went black for a moment as the blade scraped the sensitive bone-skin. She hissed and blindly somersaulted backwards, once again bringing at least some distance between her and the four-armed mutant. Her back hit the wall and she spat another curse as she saw how nicely she cornered herself.
The mutant, Anderson decided to refer to him as male, even though the gender was virtually discernible after all the extensive surgery done to him, stepped closer, the upper pair of his arms outstretched to cut of her escape, lower limbs ready to strike. His skin was a mess of half-healed scars and other lesions, reminding Anderson of scales and an insane tangle of wires, hydraulic pistons and other bionics stretched from his arms to chest and back. Overdesigned fangs, some straight others curved outwards like tusks, and all razor-sharp, protruded from his gums and through his cheeks and jaw, forcing his mouth into a triste perpetual grin. A glint of some rudimentary malevolent intelligence sparked in his pale slanted eyes as he beheld his seemingly inferior opponent. He didn't attack right away, a whooping sound of delight, akin to a hyena, spilling from his throat.
„Go for it, princess." Anderson sneered. „Or are you afraid?" she taunted, hoping to force the mutant into an untimely move.
A crimson tongue darted in between the inconsistently sized fangs and an unintelligible chatter sounded, as the mutant fought against his own physiology in an attempt to speak. „Diiiieeeeee..." he wheezed at last, dribbles of blood and saliva trickling down his chin, and with his left struck a powerful stab directed at her sternum.
Without any means of escape left, Anderson moved to attack. She dashed forward and parried the mutant's forearm with her own, not minding the injuries she sustained. The mutant's momentum drove them both into the concrete wall, Anderson ending up pinned under his mass, the breaths driven out of her. She heard the sound og metal hitting concrete and then a tortured shriek, meaning that not all of Bob's subjects had their pain receptors inhibited.
In the briefest moment when the crushing weight was lifted from her chest, as the mutant trashed in agony, she slipped past him and twirled, delivering a well-aimed to the mutant's knee. It gave in and he fell face-first to the ground. His left arm was broken, the blade dangling on a thin strand of tissue, ripped out by the force of his own blow. Where the broken bone shone through, it could be seen how the periost is coated in a thin layer of a silvery metal. Anderson didn't wait for him to rise to his feet again and stomped the nape of his neck. Unlike the bones, the ligaments holding them together were unaltered and the mutant's neck snapped just as any other. The body convulsed and almost made an attempt to stand before it realised that the connection to the brain was gone.
She only had a moment of respite, before all the other mutants, who kept their distance up to this point, came rushing to her. She cursed and backed up again, but then, in a flash of genius, grasped the loosened blade, tore it out od the tissue and swung it, all in one fluent movement. The mutant closest to her fell with his chest slashed open.
A grim smile settled on her lips as she beheld her new weapon. It was about forty centimeters long and fairly broad, shaped like a cleaver, one side curved outward slightly move than the other, bringing the tip into an acute angle. A chunk of bone and muscle still clung to the lower portion of the blade, but it didn't hinder the manipulation and in a nick of time, the upper half was just as stained. The machete proved to be grisly effective, severing limbs and splitting skulls with surprising ease. Anderson practically butchered all the enemies in her vicinity, the pungent smell of blood and mangled intestines suffocating the air. Her feet slipped on the blood-covered floor as she ruthlessly cleaved her way back to Dredd.
They met halfway, knee-deep in bodies, the blood from the torn corpses creating slow-running viscous streams and ankle-deep pools where the floor was uneven. She brushed away the hair that fell in front of her eyes, adding more stripes to the warpaint splashed on her face and shot Dredd a lopsided grin.
He gave her a quick once-over, looking for injuries, no doubt. Somewhere along the ride, an incredibly powerfull blow must have struck his head, because the visor of his helmer was cracked and shattered, the shards of presumably indestructible plexiglass, leaving few gashes across his face. „Nice trinket." He commented on her scavenged blade, only briefly shifting his attention to dispatch a mutant that leaped at him from the side.
She smiled and moved to intercept a blow aimed at her head. She caught it with her blade and redirected it to fall sideways. It still connected, leaving a long gash along her biceps, but it also gave her the time to retaliate. With a quick back-handed strike she severed the lower jaw of her attacker and then led the slash sharply downwards, slicing through his clavicle. „I'll trade you for a knife, if you want. You can do more damage with this." she told him in the brief moment when they actually managed to carve a small perimeter for themselves.
Dredd shook his head dismissively. „Keep it. Suits you." he said with just a touch of a smile on his lips.
She shot him a bright grin and winked. „You flatterer." she laughed, all the adrenaline in her bloodstream making her kind of light-headed and happier, than she had reason to be.
He flashed his teeth in a fleeting smile and opened his mouth to speak, but like the crack of a whip, a sound came from the speaker. „SERIOUSLY JOE? SHE'S COVERED IN SO MUCH BLOOD, EVEN I'M NOT TURNED ON ANYMORE. AND YOU STILL FIND HER HOT?" Bob scoffed.
Dredd shut his jaw so quickly and forcefully, that the grinding of his teeth could be heard even above the mewling and growling of the incoming mutants and Anderson bit back a grin, fixing her eyes on some random mutant. Dredd finding her attractive was... Nice. Flattering. Kind of awesome. Actually, really awesome. And a reason for a cold shower. Or a hot one. With company, preferably. A particular- luckily, before her brain managed to provide her with some high-def graphic imagery, a mutant came charging at her, the conjoined twin grown to his chest wielding something like a piston-hammer.
With palpable sense of relief, the two Judges dove into the melee, keeping tabs on each other 's flanks. They were severely outnumbered, but the mutants, despite all the enhancements to their physiques were uncoordinated and untrained, getting into each other's way, doing as much damage, if not more, to themselves, as the Judges. After twenty minutes more than fifty mutants, dead or dying, lay on the floor in the broken corridor, spilling their bodily fluids on the floor, the air temperature rising from all the discharged warmth. But no matter how many were felled, more kept coming and soon the Judges were forced even more into defensive, letting themselves be pushed deeper into Mercy's innards, the mutant force closing its jaws around them.
„What is this place, fucking clown's car?" Anderson laughed forcefully, deflecting a clawed arm and feigning a counter-attack, but not bothering to go through with it, instead choosing to step back once again. The energy reserves in her muscles were completely depleted and every movement required insane amount of repression.
Dredd acknowledged her comment with a tense nod, but didn't answer, focusing on the attackers in his immediate surroundings, dispatching them with mechanical precision and effectivity like death incarnate. He seemed untiring and completely unbothered by the injuries littering his arms and torso, save for the occasional irregular breathing.
As she attempted to swing her cleaver once again, Anderson's fingers cramped up, painfully constricting around it, the bloodstained blade cutting through the fabric of her uniform and into her palm. She cursed and with her usable fumbled at her belt, clumsily retrieving the adrenaline syringe. Stabbing the needle into her thigh, she administered herself the full dosage. The adrenaline wasn't of much use in on itself, since her blood was already over saturated with the hormone, but the accompanying painkillers and electrolytes eased the pain and strain in her muscles and the glucose transfer-medium provided the much needed energy. With new zeal she danced amongst the mutants with reckless abandon, sowing death, and terror, if her enemies could feel such thing.
Dredd suddenly froze and turned abruptly, catching Anderson's arm and practically dragging her behind him. They ran, bringing some distance between themselves and the main body of the mutant force, which was technically pointless, since they had virtually nowhere to go and retreat was just a waste of precious energy. Eventually, Dredd stopped in front of a completely ordinary white-painted door, identical to all the others on the hallway, the only difference being, that it currently wasn't spewing more bloodthirsty mutants, which made it a lot more likeable. It was also locked.
He kicked it down, the lock breaking out in a shower of splinters. A high-pitched scream echoed as the two Judges jumped into the room, Dredd slamming the door behind them and bracing himself against it. „Little help here, Rookie." he hissed, as their pursuers reached the door and started to force their way in.
In a flash, Anderson scanned the room in search for something to block the door. She was in luck, the room they broke into was some kind of an office or study, ostentatively furnitured with thick carpeting, leather armchairs and obscene amount of mahogany. Just a meter from the door stood a massive bookcase, full of volumes on human anatomy, population genetics and human genome splicing. She braced herself against the dark wood and pushed, spending the last of her energy on the task. The bookcase didn't move at first, but after few moments of struggle, budged and slowly began sliding on the thick fluffy carpet. In what was probably less than a minute, but felt like an eternity, she managed to relocate the giant piece of furniture, so that it stood in front of the door.
Dredd nodded as thanks and while the mutant fought with the door, hauled another case, this time filled antique surgical tools, and a table with a dissected child's corpse on it, in front of the door, creating a fairly effective barricade.
After the barricade stood, Anderson cleared her throat to catch the other Judge's attention. „Uhm, not that I mind not being hacked into pieces, but what have we accomplished with this?"
Dredd looked around. „I saw her," he motioned to a small dark shape in the back of the room. „Figured she might lead us somewhere." he shrugged, but froze abruptly mid-movement, hissing in pain. He hissed again, as he pulled out several metal fragments out of his side and then, in one of the incredibly rare cases, where he allowed himself a moment of weakness, he leaned against the barricade and slowly sunk to the floor. „Mind taking over, Rookie?" he asked, taking off his broken helmet, wiping of the small shards still clinging to his face.
„Cass." she corrected him.
„What?" he asked absent-mindedly.
„Cass. Or Cassandra, but Cass is better." she smiled, running a hand through her blood-drenched hair.
A tiny smile settled on his lips. „I'll remember that."
She nodded happily and surveyed the room, her brain noting and categorizing the useful, and less useful, details. Whoever resided in the office had taste for curiosities as every available surface was occupied by a carefully arranged misshapen skulls and jars containing malformed organs. The other notable things in the room were a very plain filing cabinet and a bulky, seemingly random assortment of cables and monitors, that was probably supposed to represent a computer, which were the only things not ostentatively luxurious.
A soft whimper sounded and drew her attention to the person cowering in the farthest corner. Anderson moved closer and saw that it was middle-aged woman, not a mutant at the first sight, even though that didn't prove anything. She wore a formerly white, now more brown-red, lab-coat and above her left collarbone hung a name tag for one Dr. Collins. Both the front of the lab-coat and the layers underneath were torn open, revealing a black lace bra, blood seeping from the clw and bite marks that covered her torso. She trembled and whimpered, her eyes rolling wildly in her skull. Her fingers, most of them with nails ripped out, scraped along the faint, almost invisible marks in the concrete, that outlined a two meters tall and one meter wide rectangle, the fortified steel shining through, where the doctor scraped away the plaster.
„Please, let me in, please, please... I beg you... don't leave me here... let me in, please, please, please..." she mumbled over and over like a mantra, oblivious to the trickles of drool that hung from her chin.
A spark of static announced Bob's transmission. „NO, YOU HAD VERY CLEAR INSTRUCTIONS. STAY PUT, NOTHING WOULD HAVE HAPPENED IF YOU JUST FOLLOWED THAT. BUT YOU DISOBEYED AND WHAT'S MORE IMPORTANT, YOU LED THESE TWO INTO MY OFFICE. SO, YOU'RE STAYING OUT, MY DEAR. I DON'T NEED PEOPLE WHO CAN'T FOLLOW RULES IN MY TEAM." he said coldly.
The woman erupted into a new stream of pleas and sobs, clawing at the wall, painting more crimson stripes on it.
The transmission still ran and a soft background murmur could be heard. A voice, a deep masculine rumbling, rose above the rest. „For the love of God, let her in. I have my gun, we can take them." spoke the man, sounding frightened, but determined.
„SHUT UP, JOHNSON." Bob hissed, his voice distorted slightly, seeing that he didn't speak directly into the microphone. „THEY JUST PICKED APART MORE THAN FIFTY OF YOUR AND REUBENS' FOLK, AND MOST OF IT WITHOUT GUNS." he stated and then his voice echoed in new clarity, as he turned to address the weeping woman directly. „YOU KILL THEM, YOU GET IN." he clipped and cut the connection.
Dr. Collins froze and locked eyes with Anderson, revealing remnants of a sharp calculating mind behind the outer layer of madness and desperation. With a fluent, well-trained movement she pulled out a scalpel and as quickly as a viper, hurled the surgical tool blade-first at the Judge, who deflected it with her forearm, earning another bleeding gash. Without hesitation, the mad doctor pulled out another instrument, this time a sharp-pointed pair of scissors and attacked Anderson with zealous, but clumsy strikes.
Anderson easily caught the woman's wrist and provided her arm with another joint or two.
The woman screamed and fell to her knees, cradling her broken limb in her lap. She took rapid shallow breaths, her lips turning blue from the lack of oxygen. Even throughout her fit of hyperventilation, she managed to keep up her incessant screaming, the shrill sound starting to hurt Anderson's ears.
„SHUT UP, KAREN." clipped from the speaker.
The agonizingly high-pitched screech stopped instantly, the woman seemingly choking on her own tongue. She pulled her knees to her chest and assumed the fetal position, rocking back and forth, humming to herself in the signature monotone off-rhythm of mental patients.
Anderson cautiously approached the broken woman and softly touched her healthy arm. Bob's mind-block still held, but by using physical contact, she was able to surpass it. Information flooded her brain, mostly unimportant trivia about Dr. Karen Collins, her early years in biology studies, the insatiable hunger for knowledge that culminated in a fairly controversial graduation thesis on hyperthyreosis and external hormonal stimuli on a mutated individual, all of which lastly led her to follow an obscure and cryptic message that promised incredible and borderline illegal scientific possibilities. Her thoughts got foggy after that point, probably a result of some neural tampering, only vaguely touching on the first encounter with her mysterious benefactor, who, naturally, turned out to be Bob, and the enthralling way he spoke of grand discoveries, unlimited possibilities and a top-secret plan. A plan that would change the way of the world. A plan...
„BISHOP."
Something happened. The slow, but steady stream of information disappeared, replaced by numbing silence and the pressing feeling of looming threat. Something started to move in the back of Karen's, and in some extension Anderson's brain, a vile, dark... thing... taking shape, extending its formless limbs along her gray matter and burying itself deep in her control centre. It was tainted, evil, just wrong and entirely inhuman, whispering litanies of death and decay, promising eons of torment and suffering.
Anderson yelped and staggered backwards, cutting the connection to whatever was growing inside Dr. Collins. Said doctor was convulsing on the floor, clawing at her face, stream of animalistic cries spilling from her mouth. One of the groping hands closed around the handle of the discarded scissors and the brilliant Karen Collins rammed the entire length of the instrument into her eye socket. She uttered a content relieved sigh and sunk to the floor, weeping blood and viscera.
„What... the... the..." stammered Anderson between shallow breaths, trembling, as her own panicked brain started to imagine the wet touch of supple membrane palpating her brain, slowly filling the volume of her skull.
„OH THAT? SIMPLE SECURITY MEASURE. I PLAYED HER MY FAVORITE SCENARIO." Bob explained eagerly, but Anderson hardly heard him, as she backed away, obsessively running her hand through her hair, expecting to feel the boneless unholy limbs protruding from her brain.
A pair of strong hands grasped her shoulders, as her knees gave out beneath her and a familiar voice asked if she was okay, snapping her out, or at least a little, from her panic attack. She mumbled a barely coherent affirmative and shifted her weight back to her feet, taking a few deep breaths, attempting to calm her racing heath.
„Are you okay?" Dredd asked the second time, his voice sounding just a little concerned.
„Is there something growing out of mu head?" she asked, completely ignoring his question.
A look of complete confusion passed his face. „What? No." he shook his head.
„Are you sure?"
„Yes."
She squinted suspiciously. „Have you checked?" she asked, the still sane part of her brain scolding her for sounding like a raving lunatic.
A miniscule smile passed his lips and he buried his hands in her hair „See? Nothing." he said softly, gently running his fingers across her scalp.
„Right." she breathed, leaning ever so slightly into the touch. „Right." she repeated the word, this time in a steadier tone and with a small pang of remorse, stepped back from the comforting touch. „Well then, back to work."
„OH, BY ALL MEANS, FEEL FREE TO CONTINUE." echoed from the speaker once again. „IF YOU WANT, I CAN GIVE YOU ALL THE TIME NEED. I MEAN, YOU ARE GOING TO DIE, YOU MIGHT AS WELL ENJOY YOURSELVES, BEFORE YOU DO." he offered in a benevolent, condescending tone, self-assured of his inevitable win.
„Screw you." Anderson growled and paced, a question nagging at her. „How do you get so many normals to work for you?"
Bob laughed softly. „SOME ARE IN FOR THE MONEY, OTHER FOR SCIENCE. AND SOME ARE IN, BECAUSE IF THEY DON'T, THEIR DAUGHTER WILL HAVE HER EYES POKED OUT. ALL FIVE OF THEM." he said and a background noise of distress echoed through the speaker.
The deep masculine voice sounded again. „If you hurt her, I swear, I will-„ the rest of the sentence was cut off, as Bob ended the transmission, but through the walls, the rising argument could be heard, even if the words themselves weren't intelligible. Occasionally were the two male voices interrupted by a female one, whether the woman was taking side or trying to calm the arguing pain was unknown.
Dredd and Anderson exchanged a look. „Well, anyways," she shrugged. „I suppose, you didn't magically sprout a blowtorch in the last five minutes?"
„No."
„A sledge-hammer, then?"
„Guess."
„Dammit." she cursed. „And we got so close." she sighed, fixing her stare on the hidden door that separated her from the maniac who tortured her and countless others to the brink of death.
Dredd nodded grimly. „Can't do anything about that." he said and turned away. „Better help me find something useful."
She tilted her head." Useful how? Like, for a desperate last stand or do we plan on surviving this and therefore need some intel for further planning?" she asked sincerely.
He stopped, as if unsure himself, what scenario he actually had in mind. „I do the one, you the other." he said at last.
„On it." she smiled, moving to the office cabinet, opening the first drawer. It was full of regular office supplies mixed with bloody and bent surgical instruments, several shattered bones and a half-eaten sandwich overgrown with mold. The second one contained a set of new shiny cutting tools, polished and neatly arranged, almost begging to be used. The third was full of paper-bound medical records, which in on itself, together with the fact that the dates were more that fifteen years old, posed the question, how long was Bob's gang actually around.
„IT WAS TWENTY-FIVE YEARS LAST JUNE, OR DID YOU REALLY THINK I WAS JUST SOME FRESH FACE EAGER TO GET A PIECE OF CAKE FOR HIMSELF? PLEASE, EVERY MAJOR EMERGENCY THAT INVOLVED MUTANTS IN THE LAST TWO DECADES HAS BEEN SOMEHOW MY DOING." he bragged.
Anderson jumped at the sudden noise, only now realising that the sounds of argument had died down. „Have you killed him?" she asked.
„WHO? JOHNSON? OF COURSE NOT, DESPITE HIS TEMPER AND ANNOYING HUMANITARIAN BELIEFS, HE IS STILL THE BEST NEUROLOGIST IN THIS CITY."
„Humanitarian beliefs?" she scoffed in disbelief, all the while skimming through the records.
Bob laughed again. „I KNOW, RIGHT? I KEEP TELLING HIM THAT IT MESSES WITH MY RESEARCH, BUT HE INSISTS ON HEMMING THE PAIN RECEPTORS. TELL ME, HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO DO MY SCIENCE, IF HALF OF THE BRAIN IS TURNED MUSH?" he ended with a question aimed at nobody particular.
„This isn't science." Dredd growled, acknowledging Bob directly for the first time.
They could hear a sharp intake of breath. „OF COURSE, IT IS." Bob snapped, the irritation in his voice disproportional in regards to the actual comment. „I MAY NOT FOLLOW THE CONVENTIONAL SCIENTIFIC METHOD, BUT IT WAS MY EFFORT, THAT HAS ADVANCED THE KNOWLEDGE OF HUMAN GENOME INTO ANOTHER CENTURY, NOT TO MENTION THE BIONICS AND HORMONAL ALTERATIONS." he stopped his monologue to take a deep breath. „CASS, BACK ME UP ON THIS ONE." he commanded.
„Excusse me, what?!" she exclaimed with the expression of utter bafflement.
When he answered, he sounded almost insulted, that she hasn't immediately support his mad ravings. „I MEAN YOU'RE A CLEVER GIRL, SURELY YOU CAN UNDERSTAND THE NEED FOR SCIENTIFIC INNOVATION, EVEN FOR THE PRICE OF A FEW INDIVIDUALS." he spoke with unshakable certainty.
Dumbfounded, she shook her head and looked into the last of the files, depicting something, that wouldn't classify as human, even in the broadest sense of the word, but was very visibly pregnant and the subsequent C-section on the suffering creature. „Yeah, I'm with Dredd on this one. You're fucking delusional, not a scientist." she growled.
A sharp hiss came as an answer. „Well, of course, you would take his side, you have a crush on him." he stated bluntly.
She choke on her spit, not even capable of providing some witty and sarcastic retort, and frantically buried herself in the next, and last, drawer. It too was full of documents, but these were crumpled and a lot less well-preserved, thrown in there without much care. Out of the corner of her eye, she dared to throw a sideways glance at Dredd. He stood rigid in front of one of the cabinets, holding something, that looked like some horrible incestuous cross-breed between a bone-saw and a rib-spreader. Waves of distress radiated off of his tense shoulders and clenched jaw.
„OH, NO NEED TO BE EMBARRASSED, HONEY. ITS JUST NATURAL TO DEVELOP SOME FEELINGS FOR A GUY YOU WORK THIS CLOSE WITH." he said, for some bizarre reason speaking with a higher feminine pitch, but somehow it rang a bell somewhere back in Anderson's head, she just wasn't able to put a finger on it yet.
Anderson let out an irritated groan. "Don't you have something better to do? Can't you just dig around in my other issues and tease me with that? Do you really have to make my work relationship as awkward as possible?"
"NO, NO, AND YES."
"Dick." she hissed and turned back to her drawer, single-mindedly focusing on going through the loose papers, pushing everything else into the back of her mind. A thick yellow-paged torn file caught her eye and when she leafed through it, she saw, that it contained the sale contract for the object of Angel's Mercy hospital and several others throughout the City, all bought by certain Mr. Cyril Brown. Without thinking twice, she stashed the file, together with a report to the tax office and one of the medical files, in her uniform, pressed flatly to her chest. It was somewhat uncomfortable and would probably impair her movement in the most crucial moment, resulting in her untimely death, but it was something she was willing to risk.
But Bob didn't seem willing to drop the topic. „YOU KNOW, IT'S NOT HEALTHY TO NOT SHARE YOUR FEELINGS. JUST ADMIT, IT WILL MAKE THINGS EASIER ON US ALL." he teased, still speaking in the shifted voice. „COME ON, YOU KNOW, YOU WANT TO."
She let out a livid, but resigned hiss. „So what?! I have a fucking crush. Whoopty fuckin' doo, as if that never happened before." she snapped sarcastically. „Move on, for fuck's sake, I have a shitton of childhood traumas you could harp on." she groaned, basically pleading, even though she wouldn't admit it to anybody.
Although, she didn't have to admit anything to Bob. "THE FACT, THAT YOU ARE BEGGING ME TO CHANGE THE TOPIC, IS THE VERY REASON I WON'T. YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT, YOU'RE THE SAME."
"A psychopath with a building full of abominations? I think I'd notice." she hissed, while surveying the room in font of her for another target to explore.
"NO, NOT THAT. I MEANT THE WAY YOU USE YOUR POWERS." he spoke in slow, patient tone, as if talking to an infant. "I MEAN, HAVE YOU NEVER BEEN LESS THAN GENTLE WITH THE WAY YOU READ PEOPLE?" he asked.
Her first instinct was to disagree, but her brain, quite eagerly, supplied her with more than few cases, when she was, even if not deliberately cruel, most definitely very inconsiderate to her targets. She bit her lip defiantly and fixed her eyes on the floor.
"OR HAVE USED YOU SKILLS TO SOLVE YOUR PROBLEMS IN PERSONAL LIFE, AT THE COST OF THE OTHER PERSON."
She seemed to have an example of that as well.
"AND LAST, BUT NOT LEAST, HAVE YOU SCREWED WITH PEOPLE YOU DON'T LIKE?"
As expected, her treatcherous brain managed to dig out few cases.
With a low, condescending laugh, Bob continued. "ACTUALLY, YOU DID THIS EXACT THING TO SOMEONE BEFORE. I'M SURPRISED, YOU HAVEN'T CAUGHT UP BY NOW."
With furrowed brow, she looked up and frowned. "When exactly was that?"
"TWO YEARS AGO, LAKESIDE, HOSTAGE SITUATION." he iterated, pulling the details straight from her brain.
A light went up in her mind. Memories of a conversation that started with the words 'You know, he only does it, because he loves you.' and ended with a murder-suicide of the pair of perps. "Oh..." she uttered, as the realisation hit her like a train. "Holy shit, I'm an asshole." she hissed with contempt, immediately following it up with another curse.
An unbearably satisfied giggle escaped Bob. "LET THAT SINK IN." he laughed. "NOW, JOE, LET'S MOVE ON TO YOU."
"Anderson, whatever happens here, we are not talking about it. Ever." Dredd clipped, keeping his voice devoit of emotion.
She raised her eyebrows. "You think, you even have to tell me that?"
Meanwhile, Bob continued his taunting. "NOW, WHERE WAS I? AH YES, JOE, WHERE TO START WITH YOU? THERE'S SO MUCH TO WORK WITH, I'M LIKE A CHILD IN A CANDY STORE. WHAT ABOUT A NICE DEEP CONVERSATION ABOUT YOUR ITERATION OF JUSTICE, THAT COUL- HEY! STOP THAT!" he barked suddely, interrupting his incessant monologuing."
Both Judges raised their heads and exchanged a confused look. "Who?" Anderson asked, her fingers still darting across the keyboard.
"YOU. WHAT DO YOU THINK, YOU'RE DOING?"
"Trying to get something out of this thing, what does it look like?" she hissed, frowning at the dark screen, that once again told her, she was giving the wrong password and fingerprints."
"I CAN SEE THAT. STOP IT. I HAVE IMPORTANT DATA IN THERE. IF YOU BREAK SOMETHING, I'LL RAPE YOU TO DEATH." he promised venomously. "YOU HAVE NO CHANCE TO PASS THE IDENTITY SCAN, SO JUST LEAVE IT."
She pouted and drummed with her fingers on the table. "If I somehow rebooted this thing, I could maybe surpass it." she mused, more to herself, than anybody else, and restarted the computer once again.
"BUT YOU DON'T KNOW HOW, SO DON'T TOUCH IT, YOU DUMB WHORE." Bob snapped viciously, once again anger flashing in his voice.
Anderson noticed a movement in the back of the room and involuntarily cringed slightly as Dredd stepped to her side, looking at the computer over her shoulder. "May I?"
Gladly she lifted her hands from the keyboard and scooted ovet to give him space. "All yours." she shrugged, moving away a little more, to not interfere with Dredd's personal space. She had the feeling Bob would comment on that, were he not occupied with spewing death-threats and insults. Apparently, tampering with his computer was a sacrilege to him, comparable with the defiling of his mother's corpse. The commotion on the other side of the door increased in intensity, the furniture beginning to move ever so slightly.
Dredd restarted the system once again and with few clicks got into the boot system. He stopped abruptly and shook his head. With tense posture, he made an attempt to return to his work, but then shook his head again and reached for his neck, tracing the patches of old scarred tissue found there.
"You okay?" Anderson asked with worry, recognizing the symptoms of Bob's meddling.
He froze, took a deep breath and shook his head again. "He's messing with my head... I think." he growled, some uncertainity making its way into his voice.
She nodded understandingly. "Yeah, he probably is. Sucks to be you." she commented.
A soft dark chuckle escaped him. "That's a fucking understatement. How do I deal with it?"
With a soft humm, she paused to think, trying to remember if something similar happened to her, albeit from a reverse perspective. "Well, I don't think you can beat him, even in your own head. Just... try to focus on something you know is real, stall and hope that he becomes bored or tired." she delivered the bleak update.
"Did that ever work on you?" he asked.
"Nope." she shrugged with a small smile.
Dredd nodded curtly and returned to the rebooting with a tense determined expression, only occasionally shaking his head. He cursed and restarted the system once again, only to repeat the exact same process as before, if Anderson was to judge. A small, almost invisible shiver ran through him. "Rookie."
"Hm?"
"Talk." he said. "Please." he added quietly and with great strain.
For a reason she wasn't willing to discuss even with herself a warm feeling settled in her stomach, but she didn't let it show and with an unreadable expression, she obliged, talking about whatever came to her mind, mostly spilling a stream of questions about whatever Dredd was currently doing, even though she didn't expect an answer.
After countless reboots and restarts, Dredd let out a frustrated groan. "Fuck it. No matter what I do, the identity check always boots first.
"Oh." Anderson hummed. "So, you can do nothing about it?"
"I can format the whole thing, if you want." he shrugged.
"DO NOT EVEN JOKE ANOUT THAT." sounded a very low, very menacing growl from the speaker. "NOW, BE SMART AND LEAVE MY COMPUTER ALONE, OR I'LL MAKE SURE, YOU'LL KISS MY FEET, JUST SO I LET YOU DIE."
She ignored Bob's stream of new threaths. "Do you thing our Tech-guys could do something with it?"
"Sure."
"Then," she started, "Why don't we just take the hard-drive or memory card, or whatever the data is on and take it to them." she suggested. "Or is it complete bullshit, what I just said?" she asked with a small uncertain smile.
Dredd, turned to her, something like appreciation visible in his face. "Not a bad idea, actualy." he commented. "Do you know what to look for, or should I? If you do, I'd take care of that." he said and motioned to the makeshift barricade, where a hand with torn off nails scratched at the wood, trying to push away the furniture.
"Uh, mostly grey, half metal, half plastic and kind of rectangle-ish?" she recounted all she knew about the appearance of important computer parts. "Am I anywhere close?"
He seemed to suppress an amused grin and nodded vaguely. "More or less. I'll take care of the door and help you then. In the meantime, try opening these." he pointed to two of the boxes that made out the convoluted mess that called itself computer.
She threw him a mock-salute and picked up a descarded scalpel form the floor. She used the narrow tip to loosen the tiny screws that held the outer layer of the box together and then used the same scalpel as lever to break out the side panel, revealing the dust-coated innards of the box. Her action resulted in another litany of torment from bob and she felt a small cold touch behind her right ear. "Stop it. I know, what you're up to." she hissed, shaking her head, and ran her hand through her hair, making sure to rub the spot, where she felt the touch. To her immense surprise and delight, Bob complied and the touch disappeared. With a small smile she continued her task, untangling the mesh of wires to reveal the grey rectangle-ish organs of the computer.
A flash of pain wrecked her body and she silently, her painfully clenched jaw preventing her from screaming out, fell forward, her vision going black.
She blinked and looked around. Hurtfull bright halogene light illuminated the bleak concrete walls covered in dried-up smears of blood. She remembered this place, of course she did, she spent the last ten days in here. There was no heroic rescue, hospital visit or any other stuff, all the time she was here lost in pain, dreaming her feverish dreams. But she remembered now.
She looked down on the formless festering lump that used to be her right arm. Streams of white-green pus oozed from the jagged inflamed wound, a blackened necrotic remain of bone jutting from the middle. She wasn't tied down, there was no need to, all of her joints were smashed days ago, or maybe years, she couldn't tell, time didn't run by human rules in here.
Vaguely she remembered, that the first day she was defiant and even proud of it. How foolish, she wanted to scream at herself, but only soft bubbling sounded from her shattered jaw. She was wild, needed taming, so they broke her in. They broke her in until she broke. And when she did, they made sure, everything else broke as well, her body, her mind, her very soul. Now, she was nothing but a shattered shadow of a human being, speaking only in pleas. For the last four days she was begging for everything, water, steep, mercy and most of all death.
A rat scurried from the shadows and nibbled at her toes. A single tear from her single remaining eye burned its way down her cheek, her heart filled with regret. Regret at never telling her family how much she really loved them, never making real friends, never attempting to be a better, nicer, smarter person, not taking the generous offer from master Robert.
-What?-
But her greatest regret was not confessing her true feelings to her one true love, her knight in shinig armour, her beloved-
"Oh, for fuck's sake, enough with the sappy bullshit! You moron!" she exclaimed, articulating perfectly, eventhough her brain was trying to convince her, that all her teeth have been pulled out and tongue split in two. Having her suspicion confirmed, she dived deep into her brain, practically manualy fixing all of her synaptin links, forcing them to transmit the correct stimuli. Unsurprisingly, Bob's hold was strongest on her pain receptors and even when all of her other senses returned to normal, her brain still received the phantom pains of injuries she never sustained. With an annoyed huff, she pushed the pain into the back of her mind.
"WHAT? HOW?" Bob stammered.
"True love? Knight in shining armour? Fucking beloved? What do you think I am, fucking twelve? You moron. You should have stuck with the torture stuff, I believed that." she snapped, making full use of the small advantage, that the breaking of Bob's scenario gave her.
"THE TORTURE WILL BE YOUR REALITY SOON ENOUGH." he promised.
"As if." she scoffed and returned to her systematic dismemberment of the computer. A grey half metal, half plastic rectangle caught her eye. With a bright smile splitting her face, she reached- "Oh, for fuck's sake. No!" she cursed and stuck her burnt fingertips into her mouth.
Dead silence spread throughout the building. "WHAT DID YOU JUST DO, YOU BITCH?" asked Bob in a forced calm tone.
"I don't know, you tell me, you've been in my head the whole time." she yelled.
"I CAN'T POSSIBLY KNOW, IF YOU DON'T HAVE AN IDEA WHAT YOU WERE DOING!" he yelled back.
"Oh, in that case, I may or may not have grilled whatever that thing was." she pointed to the half-melted piece, still attached to the main body by a ublimical cord of wires. "I probably should have turned that thing off before handling." she mused.
Deep breath. "THAT WAS MY HARD-DRIVE." Bob uttered, his voice devoit of emotion as if he was in shock. "FIFTEEN YEARS OF RESEARCH WAS IN THERE, MOST OF WHICH CAN NEVER AGAIN BE REPRODUCED. TWENTY-FIVE YEARS OF PROGRESS AND YOU COME, KILL HALF OF MY TEAM AND ERASE ALL WE ACOMPLISHED."
"You think, I'm happy about that?! You threw such a tantrum about that thing, I really wanted to know, what's on there. But, to my defense," she started. "Having all data in one computer and without a back-up, is just an accident waiting to happen." she shrugged.
He didn't answer, just the slow, heavy breathing could be heard through the speaker, and even that was cut abruptly. A wild bestial roar, amalgamated from many voices, shook the building to its core.
The barrier enveloping Anderson's brain disappeared and a feeling of nausea gripped her as her brain rapidly encompassed all the other minds in her vicinity. Naturally, she couldn't feel Bob, but she could see him through the eyes of doctors Johnson and Rosenberg, standing in front of the transmission pult, his clawed hands burried in the electronics. She could see the mutant horde, driven mad by the waves of rage that extended from their master and tormentor, some breaking into acts of violence and cannibalism, others throwing themselves against the walls of Bob's office and the adjacent rooms, smashing their bodies into paste. The door to Bob's office once again shook under the blows, the barricade visibly shifting.
"Call them off." screamed Dr. Rosenberg as a crack ran down the wall of Bob's hidden chamber, his army madly clawing its way in, oblivious to the fact, that they were in the wrong room.
"Robert, we have to go, or you'll kill us." yelled Johnson and grasped Bob's shoulder, only to be viciously attacked by the mutant. A struggle erupted between the three people, pitting Bob against the two doctors, all the while the hole in the wall just got bigger, clawed and barbed hands clawing at the concrete. In the end, doctor Rosenberg managed to stab Bob with a syringe full of tranquilizer and the disfigured mutant slowly sunk to the floor.
Doctor Rosenberg sprinted to the back of the room and pressed a button. A small personal elevator opened its door and the female doctor jumped in. "Marvin, come on!" she shouted.
"What about him?" Johnson asked, motioning to Bob.
"Leave him!"
"I can't! He has my daughter."
"Then take him, I don't care, just move already!" she screamed.
Johnson nodded and hoisted the unconscious mutant over his shoulder with surprising ease. He moved towards the elevator but turned at the last second and ran to a plain monitor, quickly typing the security sequence.
"Oh, fuck." Anderson hissed even before the red countdown started. "Shit." she added, as the door to Bob's office flew open and the enraged mutant horde poured in. She dashed to Dredd. "In four minutes, this place is going to hell. Any plan? Because I'm drawing blank." she recounted the info and dashed to retrieve her salvaged machette, dismembering the first mutant to reach them.
Dredd cursed and in a fluent movement reached for his medi-pack and stabbed himself with the adrenaline. "Move!" he bellowed and charged the mutant force head on. The insane and unexpected manouver confused the mindless pack and the primordial instinct to avoid and evade was roused in the less lobotomized exemplars. Using the moment of surprise, the two Judges cut through the pack and ran into the broken corridor. Dredd led them all the way back to the beginning, where the explosion stripped the traverses naked, with at least a minute to spare until the bombs would go off.
"And what here?" she asked between breaths.
He stepped on the traverse, chcking its stability. It still held. "Get as central as possible and hang on." he said and moved, leaving room for her to .
She shot him a disbelieving look. "Have you gone mental?"
"Do as I say." he ordered impatiently. "Or stay here and face them." he nodded to the approaching pack of mutants.
Reluctantly, she stepped on the traverse and followed, keeping balance with extended arms. They only barely reached a cross-section, where three beams intersected, creating a little node of relative stability, when the first explostion echoed. A vibration flared along the beam and Anderson pressed herself flatly against it, wrapping all her limbs around the steel panel, for the first time ever wishing that her mutation would have given her a few more pairs of arms. She maintained her iron grip on the traverse and focused on keeping her spine in an equilibrium, flexible enough to adjust to the vibrations, and stabile enough to not snap her neck. The explosions seemed never-ending, sending out wave after wave of tremors and quakes through the metal grid. After a while she felt the small capillars in her nose burst and she feared for the safety of her ear drums, but so far they seemed intact.
Almost as abruptly as they started, the explosions died down. For a while, the vibrations still ran through the building, but with less and less intensity and Anderson dared loosen her fingers from the cramped embrace. She lifted her head, but her whole world shifted sideways and down and she more than eagerly let her head rest on the cold steel once again.
"Rookie, you alive?" sounded the gruff familiar voice.
She groaned loudly. "I feel like if I raise my head, my brain will fall out." she whined and slowly pulled herself to sitting position, Her world spun wildly, apparently her balance center, didn't exactly handle the explosions all that well. She took a few deep breaths, until her vision stopped shifting. She turned to Dredd and saw him looking at her, both worry and relief inscribed in his face. When he saw her turn to him, he offered her a hand, stabilising her wildly swaying form, when she took it. He helped her take the few steps toward the vertical steel panel and Anderson gladly leaned against it, looking at the damage done to the hospital. "How are we still alive?" she asked. "This place looks like something from a war movie." she commented, endorphines flooding her system, as her body finaly fully grasped, that the danger had really passed, rapidly letting her mood skyrocket into the layer of utter bliss. She shook her head and smiled at her superior officer. "You are fucking brilliant, but, seriously, you have a deathwish." she laughed and in a spur of reckless joy, threw her arms around the man's neck.
He tensed up, switching to combat-mode in the initial second, but even he wasn't immune to her infectuous happiness and relaxed against her, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Takes one to know one." he smirked, his breath brushing against her neck, sending ripples of pleasure down her spine.
Whether it was a compliment, or not, she decided to take it that way. "Well, you're not wrong." she purred and, stood on her tiptoes, pressing a soft quick kiss to his lips. She froze, amazed by her own audacity and jerked back, but a hand pressed to the back of her neck stopped her from pulling away and Dredd's mouth came crashing down on hers, one of his hands tangling in her hair, the other wrapping itself around her midriff, bringing the distance between them to zero. Without a moment's hesitation, she kissed him back, throwing all the rhyme and reason out of the window. She ran her fingers through his messy hair and bit his bottom lip, drawing a low deep sound from the back of his throat and something in her resonated to the tone. Her breath hitched in her throat as she lost herself to the kiss, pushing against her counterpart, just as he did against her, the perfect balance of action and reaction.
After a while, that felt entirely too short, their lips parted, the two Judges left panting for air. They exchanged a look, flushed and happy at first, but it abruptly soured as within half a second from each other, they realised, what they had done. "Fuck." they hissed in unison and stepped away from each other, both suddenly very interested in everything else except the other. Awkward silence fell between them, uncomfortable to the point of being physicaly painful.
Anderson was the first to speak up. "So... we're not... talking about this?" she asked.
"No."
She nodded curtly, tiniest flash of hurt flashing on her face and the silence stretched again, just as uncomfortable as before. She yawned and sunk on the traverse, as to Dredd contacted the Hall and informed them of their situation. "A heli will come pick us up." he informed her and she acknowledged it eith a nod. They didn't speak another word to each other until the heli came, both lost in thought, rigid like gargoyles against the setting sun that set the sky ablaze.