A/N
Writing is hard. Who knew!
Mike: This is not a crossover. Things will become clear in time.
Death 1.3
Dr. Olden left to cut up some more corpses I supposed, leaving SI Morrows and I to stare at each other as we waited for Dad. He kept glancing at his phone until eventually, he arose frowning. "It's been half an hour. He should be here by now." He looked at me. "Will you be alright by yourself? I'll go and make a call..." He trailed off looking at the strict-looking, young woman who stood in the doorway.
"Hello. My name is Darlene Adams and I'm from CPS" She looked at me. "Are you Ms Taylor Hebert?" I nodded wordlessly before the SI stepped between me and her. "Can I see some ID please?" He demanded. The woman's expression twitched and she reached for her handbag "You should not have been able to access this area-" SI Morrows was interrupted by a loud cracking sound, and he collapsed, bleeding from a hole in his chest.
The woman pointed the gun at me. "Why couldn't you just stay dead?" She snarled at me. "My job was fine... All I had to do was sign the same report with some small variations, keep my dear little 'asset' sharp as a knife, vicious as a hound and seemingly innocent as a babe as far as the PRT was concerned. But no. You had to come along and ruin it all."
She grinned savagely at me. "No matter, you little bitch" She laughed, shakily. It became a manic cackling before trailing off. "Once we're done, nobody will ever listen to you again..." She grinned, and stowed the gun she had shot Morrows with. Her hand came out of her bag holding a scalpel and she drew close to me. I couldn't move a muscle. I was too weak. Worthless. Unable and unwilling to resist.
It was only as the scalpel began nearing my mouth that I started feebly struggling, craning my neck to get away from the blade. Darlene hissed, grabbing me by the throat. "Stop moving sweety" She said, quietly, in an all too sweet voice. "It'll hurt less..." She collapsed to the side, suddenly, groaning in pain. The scalpel clattered to the ground. "What did you do to me" The woman whispered, in horror.
My mind snapped back into the present. The narcissistic BITCH had tried to cut my tongue out with a scalpel, and she was worried about what I did to her! Fury restarted my heart for a moment, causing it to thud painfully from inside its crystal shell. Just the once of course. Still, it was sufficient to send me into a panicked frenzy, and I hauled myself out of bed, and kicked Darlene. Again. Again. Again.
A man in PRT armour rushed into the room and froze, staring at the woman at my feet, and my panting form. "What..." My mouth was dry. "WHAT WERE YOU DOING?" I screamed at him. His head turned towards Morrow's corpse, and his foam gun came up, warily pointed at me. Darlene moaned and gasped "She's a Blaster, Rob. She killed him!"
"What? I didn't kill-" Foam blasted me, and filled my mouth. I couldn't see. The foam was soft. Almost squishy. Like the Locker. I couldn't even scream, as it took all my concentration to keep my heart from beating. The darkness was bad. The sensation was awful. The smell was odd, overwhelmingly chemical with just a hint of rot.
The containment foam was liquefying around me, flowing away. It dribbled out of my mouth, until I had enough space to retch and force it all out. It tasted awful, and the fact that it was rotting didn't help. The foam faded away. Darkness rose in front of me, before burning away in a blaze of electricity. Instinctively, I stepped back. The Locker's door closed on me, leaving me trapped in a small, metal coffin. At least, I thought to myself, it's clean this time. A lonely tear trickled down my face.