ACT THREE

Using the arts of stealth and silence, and also now wearing a winter jacket and gloves that he picked up along the way, Thomas successfully made it to his destination - the brigs. But the brigs themselves were not what interested him; it was the room next to them and the contents inside the room that acquired his attention.

The escape pods.

Looking around just in case there were cameras on or spare Toppats lagging about, he pressed a button on the wall near one of the red shells of freedom. The doors opened with a hiss and although there produced a moderately loud bang, it thankfully didn't draw any attention. But it reached the ears of one prisoner held inside one of the brigs, who was thrown in there when his curiosity grew too much for his own good and he intervened in a top level Toppat plan.

"H-hello? Is anybody there?"

Ignoring the soft-spoken question, Thomas hurriedly hopped into the escape pod. He pushed the button to close the doors a number of times and so fast he feared he broke the pod's controls. But luckily the button obeyed his command, and so he immediately put in the code for the next order from him.

Flee.

Throwing his back against the wall, he clung on for dear life while the pod put on a burst of speed and plunged from its owner's belly, diving into the waters below. He hoped and prayed that whatever was occurring at Reginald's meeting, the attention of his audience would be held in Reginald's grasp long enough for no one to notice Thomas' absence or the now-missing escape pod. True, it was only a matter of time before someone was bound to piece the two occurrences together like a puzzle. But he just hoped no one would solve the mystery too soon.

He looked out of the pod's window and saw the airship decreasing in size as it flew deeper into the night sky, unbothered by the petals of snow drifting all around the armored aircraft. It was a wonder how the snow never got stuck inside the airship's massive fans to clog them up.

Some of the innocent leaves of snow brushed the escape pod as it fell closer and closer to the sea. Thomas pressed a hand to the glass to gain better footing and he could feel the window drop lower in temperature, enough to bite his hand in spite of the gentle snow falling outside. He shuddered to think of the rising coldness in the waters thanks to the snow accumulating and touching it...

An alarm in the escape pod blared on and off, interrupting his thoughts. Thomas looked out the window again and he tensed up: he would be reentering the earth's surface in three... two... one!

The watery astroid crashed into the water and on impact, the vibrations from the crash rippled across the water. Thomas almost lost his footing when the pod turned onto its side, but he stood strong and waited until the pod floated back up to the surface. When it did, it bobbed up and down in the water like a top. The movements eased off slowly and soon the pod floated in the still water with ease.

Thomas stayed where he stood before he could confirm it was safe to open the door. It unlocked and he peeked out of the pod. He scanned his environment: the full and glowing moon greeted him gracefully with its reflection in the water. The water itself was all he could see surrounding him. But two exceptions made themselves known: the retreating airship and the Wall, the latter continuously standing on the cliff top a great distance away.

Time to go to work. He picked up his medical bag and after rummaging through it, he found what he was looking for: an emergency life raft. He gathered the rest of his items and carefully climbed out of the pod. It was a wobbly climb; one wrong step and he could fall into the freezing waters. But he kept his footing and soon he was leaning over the tiny improvised island. He clutched onto the life raft as he placed it in the water, and then he pulled the life raft's string. A hiss was released as the boat slowly unfolded into its proper form and size. Thomas waited until the boat was large enough for him to sit in without worrying about it sinking.

But simultaneously, he would concern himself with the pod. Digging through his medical bag again, he fished out a small but handy device that placed in his hands, would ensure his safety and Henry's, just in case the Toppats assumed Henry survived his fall and they thought of looking for the pod, Thomas or Henry.

Dynamite.

Off to the east, not too far from the fugitive Toppat's position, a lone green vessel broke through the water's surface. Its helmsman kept her steady as she went. The water may have been tame, but experience has taught the helmsman that the sea was crafty and could change its attitude at will based on the unpredictable phases of the weather and celestial residents.

And although the captain at the helm was a sea-lover by heart who witnessed incredible things across every ocean of the planet, that was not to say they grew accustomed to every new and strange encounter.

Which was why they changed course and decided to follow the source of the random explosion of yellow and red that erupted in the distance, a thinning trail of smoke floating among its point of origin.

Thomas smirked and rubbed his hands in triumph as he watched the escape pod, having outlived its usefulness, sink to the bottom of the sea. Now the proof of defection was gone. But the rescuer could not rest on his laurels for long. Picking up an oar from the life raft, he swiftly stabbed the water and pumping every breath from his lungs, he rowed towards the opposite way where Henry might have fallen.

The keyword on 'might'. Thomas stubbornly stuffed the 'what-ifs' that threatened to slow him down again. There was no way he would know if Henry would be in the same patch of liquid space when he fell. It was possible that his friend managed to swim away and brave the cold. He had to; Thomas failed to see how Henry would not have wanted to take the chance and get out of the water as quickly as he could, special abilities or no. But considering that it was snowing when Henry fell - to which the snow by now was beginning to fade away - and Henry's own intense weakness and hatred towards the cold, it was plausible that the lower temperatures would have severely stopped Henry in his tracks.

Even then, where would Henry have gone if he swam back to shore and he was wet and shivering? Not the Wall; Henry would rather give his own life away than give himself up to that cursed place. And he would have suffered intensely had he tried to walk on foot towards the nearest civilization that was not the Wall. Not to mention the cliffs would have been a terrible obstacle for the poor man to overcome without the right tools to aid him in his escape.

Thomas hurried faster, not the least bit concerned that his fingers were burning in pain from the intense movements of rowing and gripping the oar tightly. If it could keep him warm, he was not about to complain.

His voice rough after not using it for sometime, he called Henry's name. "Henry!"

He inched closer to the Wall and looked in every direction for any sign of the missing man. "Henry! Oh Henry! Where are you?! It's me, Thomas! Thomas Chestershire! Henry, please say something! I'm here to help you!" No response... this was not good. But he kept trying to find him.

The moon above, which had been lighting Thomas' path through its own starlight glow and shimmering reflection on the water, suddenly disappeared. Thomas looked up and saw clouds overtaking the moon to hide it from view. Because of that, darkness crept over and made it hard to see.

Some manmade light would help make things easier. He pulled out his reliable medical bag again and a large flashlight was now in his hand. He flipped the switch on and the bulb produced a ray of light and hope.

But Henry was still nowhere to be found. On top of that, the clouds in the sky seemed to hover so dangerously close to Thomas. Which could only mean one thing.

Rain.

Or worse, hail.

Thomas doubled his efforts and called Henry's name again and again and would keep on calling his name until he yelled himself hoarse. He whipped his head up and down, left and right, sideways, any and every direction in hopes of spotting Henry.

A great big drop of water poked Thomas' cheek. And then another, and then another and another and another. Thomas scowled at the change in weather. Even if the rain fell lightly compared to hail or a stronger form of pelting rain, it was notoriously bad timing for it all to start while his friend was out here and freezing to death-er... shivering like a leaf.

Sniffing haughtily, Thomas concentrated on scanning every square inch of water like an eagle until he spotted something. Anything. Please, let there be some sign of Henry out here, oh please, please!

And a sign did appear; as if the clouds heard him, they parted a pathway for the moon to work alongside Thomas' flashlight. Together, they crossed each other's paths and lo and behold: there, floating in between the Wall's watery boundaries and the sea's own lack of borders, was something - or someone - floating facedown in the water.

Thomas squinted, his eyes trying to scrutinize the unidentified silhouette. Could it be...?

Using whatever strength was leftover in his hands, he rowed cautiously over to the mysterious form. When he got closer, elation and fear filled him as he recognized the man in the ratted prisoner uniform.

"Henry!" He dropped the oar into the boat, neared his friend's position and gently grabbed him from under his arms.

Thomas gasped as though someone punched him in the stomach. Henry was not just cold to the touch; he was frozen solid!

The Toppat brought Henry aboard the raft, laid him down and turned him onto his back. Thomas's eyebrows shot up; poor Henry did not look good at all.

Henry's swollen complexion appeared so pale and icy that he could have passed for a snowman, with lips tinged blue and eyes frozen tightly shut. The prisoner uniform may as well become rags by now, for the outfit became completely drenched in excess water and even lost various threads of its makeup, causing the uniform to have wears and tears. But the oddest feature of Henry's broken form were small spots dotting his body.

Although curious about those spots, Thomas could not allow himself to be distracted by them. He had to make sure Henry was alright! First things first: he picked up Henry's wrist and touched the spot under the thumb. Thank goodness - there was a heartbeat... but it was extremely faint and weak.

Second: Thomas picked up the oar once more. He had to get them out of the rain before it worsened Henry's condition. Steeling himself for another taxing session of rowing, he navigated the craft away from the rain, voyaging out to sea while also keeping a safe and close distance to the land. He did not want to row too far out to see just in case there was someone or something on the land that could help them.

Once the cover of rain was left behind, Thomas called upon the medical bag once more. He made a giant beach towel appear out of the bag. Unfolding it, he removed Henry's wet outfit, wrapped the towel around him, and dried the excess water off. He also brought out two thermal blankets and enfolded Henry into them. Finally, he retrieved hot pads; some to entangle with the blankets and the others to place on he hovered over Henry and held him in his arms to provide his own warmth to the man, doing everything in his humanly power to revive Henry.

He stayed like that for a few minutes, watching Henry's face for any sign of change.

The helmsman's ship treaded so smoothly over the water as it followed after its new target. The old one with the flash of light was long gone by the time the ship arrived. And although they could not recognize the identity of the raft or its owner from their current position, all of that would change soon enough.

Minutes passed, but it was forever to Thomas.

He sighed despondently. There was no real change to Henry's condition, other than his lips gradually began to lose their blue sheen. His eyes did not open, however. He remained lost to the world.

Thomas rubbed his face in a combination of frustration and worry. And therefore, he accidentally flicked off one of his monocles. Huffing in irritation, he picked it up and was about to put it back onto his face when he noticed a strange sight on Henry's form.

He saw one of the strange small holes from before peek through the blankets. The dark hole was found on Henry's leg.

While he held Henry with one hand, Thomas brought the monocle back to his eye and picked up the flashlight with the other to investigate this sight. Just what was that hole?

Thomas put down the flashlight and after stealing a quick glimpse over at Henry for any quick changes, gingerly touched the spot. When he did...

Henry finally made some movement: he shuddered and grit his teeth in pain before settling back into its usual frozen state.

Although grateful for the sign of hope, that failed to solve the mystery behind - wait. His finger touched something lodged inside that particular hole. It felt smooth and round with a pointed shape, and it was made of metal and gushed out some liquid when he touched it.

And then it dawned on him as he realized with great horror the true name of those mysterious spots on Henry.

Gunshot wounds.

A/N: I acknowledge I'm cruel to leave you off like this: first Dave from "Through Smoke and Bitter Distance", and now "Eye of the Needle" with Henry. You are free to throw tomatoes, but no rotten ones please. XD

As today is the anniversary of Fleeing the Complex, EotN called me up and demanded an update with a new chapter. I couldn't refuse the deal. Now we're moving away from "The Betrayed" ending from FtC to "Revenged" from Completing the Mission.

Enjoy and happy anniversary to the game! :)