Chapter Four
I vibrated the desk and almost made me jump out of my skin. I ran over to where the obscenely loud buzzing came from and found a little egg shaped gadget pulsing red.
I hit it hard on the desk, hoping to break it, but instead it got louder. The only way this thing was going off was if I got someone over at the containment lab to shut it off.
Running, as fast as I possibly could to reach the opposite side of HQ, I toppled into Barton as I hastily turned a corner.
"Watch where your going Coulson." he shouted, not angrily, but instead in a mocking tone, "Where you running off to?"
"Containment Room 601." I said getting up and turning to run off again, "This thing won't shut up." I shouted holding up the beeper.
"Have fun. They've evacuated the west wing. That agent they tested, Witmore I think his name was, just got loose." Clint teased. I realized he was carrying a small black suitcase. When he caught me starring at it he laughed.
"You know what's in there." And I did. It must have been his trademark retractable bow and quiver of arrows. We both split and began to run in separate directions, Barton assigned to kill and I determined to shut up my bloody beeping egg.
Barton wasn't kidding. The cleared access corridors were trashed, boards ripped off walls, room pin pads hanging off the wall by thin wires and legs! Legs? I rushed over to a set of legs hidden from out of a stray pile of rubble.
"Can you hear me?" I shouted, hopefully awaiting a reply. I cocked my ear at the slightest sound and when I heard a tiny scream from underneath me I began to rip away the mess from on top of the person. I worked swiftly, clearing away everything almost within five minutes. Underneath sat a bloodied body with a familiar face. It was Stanley Witmore.
I stumbled backwards, didn't Clint say he caused all this mess? Trying not to stun him into a rash decision, I reached out my hand to help him up.
"What happened?" he mumbled out. I looked up behind him and noticed the wall was riddled with bullets.
"I'm not sure. Why aren't you at the containment facility?" carefully probing him for answers. At the mention of the containment facility, something changed in his eyes. I could see he was unstable, almost crazed. The serum didn't work.
Witmore flung his hand out in front of him and I went flying into an adjacent wall. I was in deep trouble. Running towards me I felt an invisible force stop me from getting up. I couldn't move my chest at first and then slowly the force contorted itself around my neck, squeezing tighter. Witmore was in my face, breathing heavily on me and I tried to use my hands to pry away the force, with no luck. The air stopped reaching my lungs and I panicked. I had been so sure I could take on this guy and I started to see my life flash before my eyes. When I was a teenager and my parents left, when Phil agreed to take me in, starting training to be an agent, countless failed missions, Phil getting me involved in Project X and then everything caught back up. I dropped my hands and it hit me as I wheezed.
I could move my hands. Reaching quickly, I held my gun and shot Witmore right in the gut. He tumbled backwards and I felt the air race in my lungs. Coughing and sucking in air, I took control of my gun again and aimed at Witmore's skull. As I pulled the trigger an arrow sped through the air and hit my target. I glanced up to see Barton down the end of the hall, reloading another arrow, cautiously.
I bent over the dying body of Stanley Witmore as he stared at me, trying to make out words. Slowly but every so surely he got his message across.
"Sorry..." before his murderous eyes clouded over and the life in him was gone.
"You alright?" Barton said running down towards me. I was clutching back onto my throat. It was sore and I needed water.
"I'll live." I coughed out. Barton pulled out a water bottle from his quiver and passed it down to me as I slumped on the wall. I sucked it down happily, it's coolness healing as it slid down my throat.
"Ahh." I sighed handing it back to him, "Thanks."
"You have quite a knack for trouble, don't you?" he laughed half-heartedly. Fury and some other agents rushed around the corner to see Barton and I next to Witmore's body.
"What in the world happened here?" Fury shouted, more angered by the mess than the fact there was a dead body in the middle of the hallway.
"Freak got out... we killed... him." I said, my voice cracking on me as I spoke.
"Well I certainly underestimated you Agent Coulson." he congratulated, getting a tiny smirk out of me, "Everyone back to your posts, someone's already been sent to clean up this mess. Barton. Take Coulson to the medical wing please."
"Sure."
I didn't ask for help getting up, mostly because I was too stubborn, though Barton stood by warily. I stepped over Witmore's body, it seemed so senseless. I should be moved by the fact I just killed someone but that had been trained out of me the minute I stepped in this place. Out of sight of Fury, I let Barton hold me for support. My throat was severely damaged and I guessed the stress had torn something or at minimum twisted a muscle. The medics were extremely kind, after their initial pestering about warning me not to talk, they sent me off with a heat pack around my neck and a note pad to talk with. I wasn't aloud to talk for two weeks until my vocal cords repaired themselves and got lucky with just my neck muscles being internally bruised. Eating was difficult though. Whenever I opened my mouth it strained my neck so I ended up living off a diet of protein shakes and blended chicken, using the straw to suck up the liquids. While that method of eating still hurt, it was much more bearable.
That was the least of my worries though. Georgio had been injured in the attack. Witmore, when he escaped, blasted a 100kg door off it's hinges. Georgio was unlucky enough to get stuck in its way, the door crushing his legs and damaging his most of his abdominal organs. I he'd been moved to another facility to treat his injuries and everyone was unsure whether he'd pull through to not. They were certain he'd never walk again and if he was to live he'd need a lot of organ donors. His spleen, kidney and intestines had been crushed though somehow he pulled through that, but it was the damage done to his rib cage and lungs that were the most worrying. His lungs were being pressed down on by the broken fragments of his ribs creating a slow block up of blood around his left lung. If doctors tried to operate they could burst the build up and Georgio would bleed out within minutes. But if they did nothing, the clot would get bigger and bigger and eventually burst on him anyway. Georgio was a good friend of mine now, but I couldn't be stupid. Georgio wasn't going to survive this and I had to prepare myself for that.
Everything had been happening so quickly. My transference, the discovery, the attack and yet despite everything, Phil still hadn't seen me since he left. I missed him. I needed him.
Walking into the lab for duty the next day was hell. Everyone was still trying to work out where the serum went wrong but more than that, everyone was in tears. A lone portrait of the smiling Georgio hung above his station and I knew instantly he was no longer with us.
Georgio, my genius friend, was dead.
