Chapter 69

Punishment

Detrikov had witnessed, caused, and been a part of death ever since he was a little boy. When he was thirteen, he killed his first man. At sixteen, almost thirty more had been felled by his hand. That was when he was angry, uncontrollable, filled with blood-lust. If it wasn't for Gregory Fisk, Detrikov knew he'd be rotting in a prison somewhere, or more likely given the death penalty. Death really didn't affect him all that much. It happened. It was a well-established fact.

But Fisk… Seeing Fisk in that chair, listening to his words, it struck a self-professed cold heart hard. Then that calm, serene face…

The day was a blur from that moment on. He had a bare recognition of sending orders out to the other members of the group. To defrost Jennifer and sort out a burial, to take Myers' and Fisk's bodies away. Keep an eye out for Jason. He remembered ordering that the apartment should be burned after everything had been searched and taken care of. Then he had walked away from everyone, seeking to be alone with his thoughts.

Detrikov was able to come to terms with the fact. He wasn't in shock. Fisk was dead, it hurt him, but it had happened. He tried hard to persuade himself that it wasn't his fault, that it was Myers, but a small part of his mind still felt the finger pulling the trigger. I had done it.

More than that, Detrikov was actually worried. Not only had Myers' input that command in his head, what other commands had he put in his head? He was a walking sleeper agent, unable to know what he was going to do until he had done it. However, he knew how to deal with the situation. Usually it took shock to get into someone's head. It takes shock to get it out as well. Fisk's death wasn't enough of a shock, and Detrikov doubted that he could shock his mind enough with simple thoughts.

The answer was the only answer he knew. Pain.

He had booked himself into a cheap as dirt hotel room under a fake name. Now he leaned down from the tale, pulling a small knife from his boot. Detrikov stared at it, unblinking. The knife was the very same that Fisk had given to him when they first met. In fact, Fisk had very almost stabbed Detrikov with it. It had a metal handle and a fine, sharp blade. Perfect for the job.

With a single breath, Detrikov plunged the blade hard into his left arm, since he was right-handed. As if his skin were butter, the knife slide through skin and muscle, going all the way through until it hit the wood of the table Detrikov had rested the arm on. That wasn't the painful part, despite the heat rising up from the wound. A simple slice was not the shock Detrikov needed. Clenching his hand around the knife, Detrikov grit his teeth and twisted. Hard.

A grunt of pain turned into a howl as Detrikov jammed the knife up and down, slicing into bone and through veins.

"You are to dispatch of him." Myers said, his face a haze of mist. The red skull was the only thing Detrikov could see, could register. "But after this, there is more…"

Detrikov's arm left arm tensed hard, muscles tightening up near the shoulder. He continued to saw into his forearm, the sound of grating bone filling his ears.

"Think of this as punishment…" Detrikov growled between his teeth. "For shooting your friend…"

"I want the others. I want Lisa Valentine and I want Joshua Valentine. I want the rest of the Chosen. The next time you see them, you are to dispatch of them much like Gregory Fisk."

Detrikov looked to his arm with distaste. He was only half-way through. With a final grunt, he slammed the knife sideways, snapping through the rest of the bone. After the bone, all that was left was some more muscle and skin, which sliced through easily enough. The knife's edge hit wood. If he could remember the orders Myers had given him, he was confident that it had worked. At the very least he could fight against it.

Detrikov took deep breaths and stood up from the table, half of his forearm and his left hand staying on the now bloody table. Detrikov ripped off his shirt and clamped it over the stub, which didn't do too much, but it was better than nothing.

A knock on the door drew Detrikov's attention. The door then opened, showing a concerned owner. "Are you okay, sir? I heard-" The owner's eye turned to the bloody arm Detrikov held to his chest.

"I have left extra money. For the clean-up." Detrikov grunted, walking past the owner. "I believe it will be sufficient. Just throw the thing away."

With that, Detrikov left the hotel, trying his best to stop the blood flow as he went to the base in order to find a doctor.

XXX

The evening grew cold at the gathering in the graveyard, sending chills through many of the black-clad attendees surrounding the black coffin.

Suitable weather. At least it's not raining.

David thought solemnly, standing further away than the rest, leaning against a tree. He did want to go up to the coffin, to pay his respects to Lucy. David was going to but… seeing that young man with the sad expression, looking almost like a mirror image of his younger self, David just couldn't. It would be unfair to Max. Being away from him for so long, betraying him and his mother, coming back only for Lucy to die… It was better if Max didn't see him. David wasn't entirely certain he could handle the meeting, either.

He watched as the coffin containing his ex-wife lowered into the ground, then as Max stepped up, speaking. His voice carried over into David's ear.

"I had my problems with my mother…" Max started. "I think all sons do. We always want things, toys when we were younger, money as we grew older. But we never appreciate it until later… and sometimes until it's too late to realize how much effort a mother has to go through. To raise us. From being an infant to making sure we don't fall in with the wrong crowds at school. Don't smoke, don't take drugs, keep healthy, keep fit. Good advice." Max wiped his eyes. "You never… never ever think they are going to go until they do. I always imagined an ideal scenario: I would have a wife, children of my own. I wanted my mother… I wanted Lucy to see my wife, see her grandchildren, and be happy. I wanted her to know it was coming, to prepare for it, and accept it as all of us have to do at the end. I will, my children will, all of us here will."

Max took a breath and looked up to the sky. "I… know that I speak to deaf ears, I know that he isn't here, that he is feeling miserable but now more than ever I need to see my father."

David stiffened, his hand tightening on the tree trunk.

"I know he was there with Lucy when she died. I know it was an accident, witnesses stated he was trying to save her, that he did all he could do. But when I went to the hospital, he was gone. Mom had phoned me, all happy, telling that my father had come back. That David had come back. They were started again after the divorce, that everything was going to be as right as rain. I had never heard my mother this happy since the divorce and I knew… I knew that I ought'a forgive my dad. I thought… perhaps, that all of us again, mom, son and dad could be together again. But now Lucy is gone… and…" Max shut his eyes as he looked up to the sky. "I wish I could see him again. I wish he would come back. Because I don't want any regrets. I don't want what happened to my mother to happen to him." Max's throat locked up and he nodded vaguely, standing back to his previous position. A few more final words from others, and the coffin was lowered into the ground.

It took every ounce of will to not go over to his son, to speak to Max. David did not want to go to him until after this whole situation was fixed. He didn't want to start repairing relationships only to leave Max alone again, or worse, for Max to die because of him. Lucy had taught him this. With a final look at his son, David turned and walked out of the graveyard. He saw Dorothy waiting inside the car and climbed in.

Dorothy didn't need to ask any questions, willing to wait until David would talk.

"I… I couldn't go up to him… Dorothy…" David murmured. "I couldn't do that to him, to myself. I keep telling myself I should, but I can't. Not until this situation is over. Not until our survival is assured." David clipped his seatbelt in. "Let's go."

A/N: Thanks to PrincessShell101 and Bookreader2010 for the reviews.

Holy sunshine, I think the world really is gonna end. I updated the day after the previous chapter! On the very off-chance the world does end on the 21st, I'm gonna be pissed off since I won't finish this story.

Anywho, things are going to calm down some until the end of the Act. 'Till next time!