"Costa may be gone... but I'm still here." Carver smiled wickedly. "Will I suffice?"
Red's flesh literally crawled in a shiver of revulsion at the realization that he had let his guard down to this extent...that he had failed Lizzy so utterly completely as to allow such a dangerous enemy to encroach into her life...yet again!
Startling at the deep voice wafting menacingly in the darkened aura of the room, Liz lifted widened and panicked eyes to Red's.
He felt her stiffen, a sharp intake of breath signifying she too, knew of the intruder's identity. How could she have not. It wasn't likely something a woman would forget, after all.
Red's mind sorted frantically, possible scenarios in which he could improvise Lizzy's safety. He had to insure that eventuality above all else.
Tightening his arms about the woman, Red stilled her movement as she hurriedly attempted to move out from beneath him.
"It's fine." he stressed, holding the woman protectively close. "Everything will be... fine." he muttered softly, trying desperately to believe his own words...determined to make them a reality.
"Don't mind me, go right ahead." Carver stated breathlessly. "You may not get the chance again... but who knows what life will bring, right?"
Red moved slowly, shielding the woman beneath him with his body. His gaze searched the darkened room, finally zeroing in on the shadowy bulk of the other occupant.
The intruder stood just inside the French doors, the drapes beside him moving slightly with the breeze from the outside terrace.
Red couldn't make out any features, but he could imagine the lecherous leer in those cold, dead eyes. He could feel the unwavering stare.
Unsurprisingly, Red felt Lizzy tremble uncontrollably in fear, the raggedness of her breathing intensifying the shaking of her body to the extreme. The tension and terror emanating from the woman was intense.
"Who knows when death will come knocking?" Carver's tone held a light-hearted cheerfulness, "Oh... wait," he lightly tapped his knuckles on the glass beside him, "... guess who's here." The bastard drawled drily.
Liz's entire being reacted to that voice. She closed her eyes tightly, willing her mind to grasp some sort of control...to remember Silas' training, to not allow what was happening...to happen.
Her worst nightmares were coming true. Momentarily, she wondered... was this only a nightmare? Had she fallen asleep in Red's arms after they made love? Was she dreaming this horrible manifestation? God, please let it be so!
Was this truly only yet another instance of a maniac invading her mind? Would Red gently shake her awake in a few moments?
Her eyes darted to the man poised so benignly above her. She read the all too quiet truth in that intense set of his dark eyes.
This was reality...
Red's mouth was set grimly. He was staring down at her, his manner calm... deceptively quiet.
"I think I'm being more than gracious here." Carver's mellow tone interrupted the moment. "Consider it my version of... one last meal, for let us all be honest." He spread his hands casually, stepping more into the light filtering from behind the drapes. "You might not have another opportunity... not once I'm done here."
The soft glint of a weapon brandished about absently, caught Red's eye. The cold metal gleamed ominously in what light there was filtering from the flittering drapes.
Red fought off yet another shudder of revulsion, affected by Lizzy's soft intake of breath for the completely unnecessary statement, but of course, that's why it was made. To instill terror and absolute fear.
Carver inhaled lightly, shrugging. "What am I saying?" He smirked. "Of course, you won't have the chance again, not once it's finished. I am a consummate professional, as you well know."
Liz swallowed her revulsion, desperately trying to keep her fear in check.
"I will stand quietly in the shadows. I promise to not say a word, so as to break the mood." Carver seemed sincere. "Don't let my presence stop you two star-crossed lovers from saying a proper... farewell. I'm such a romantic at heart, after all."
Carver shrugged after a moment's hesitation. "Okay, so I like to watch, too. I am man enough to admit my faults. "
"Yeah... I've heard that about you." Liz took a measure of courage and reassurance from Red's retort.
"And you don't?" Carver arched a knowing brow. "Like to watch, I mean?" He seemed curiously interested.
Holding his expression, Red knew, to get anywhere, to offer a distraction... he would have to commiserate with the sick bastard on some level.
Red canted his head, shrugging himself after a seconds thought. "I won't judge you, if you don't judge me."
Carver chuckled his amusement. "Always the bon vivant." He approved the bravado. "I like that about you, Reddington. Truth is, I will miss our little repartee once I've gutted you... I'm sure I will pause for reflection." He complimented the man. "You are one of my most challenging clients, I will admit."
Staring down at the woman, Red grasped Lizzy's hand in his, demanding she focus on him and nothing else. He could sense her state.
Having gained her attention, Red subtly flicked his eyes towards the pillow where he stashed the radio earlier.
Casually turning to seek out the intruder into their domain, Red slowly sat up, blocking sight of the woman.
Liz inched her hand under the pillow, palming the communication device with trembling fingers, fumbling for the correct buttons.
"Finished all ready?" Carver questioned the man's movement. "I was hoping for an encore, now that she's warmed up and all. Please don't disappoint me."
"The mood has somehow shifted." Red curled his lips distastefully. "I doubt very much she'll be all that receptive."
"You never know until you try." Carver was optimistic, then grimaced his camaraderie. "Don't know how you came the first time, what with her being such a cold fish." he related his point of view, then laughed shortly. "Who am I to talk? I blew one afterwards myself... how unprofessional, right?"
The silence that followed was more than strained.
"Wow, tough room." Carver sniggered quietly. "... Lots of tension."
"How'd you get in?" Red asked nonchalantly, casually tossing the sheets aside... and over Lizzy's nude body.
"You mean the hotel in general," Carver queried, "or here... specifically." he waved a hand about the room itself.
Red sent the man a scolding glare.
"Blend in... be invisible." Carver relented, holding Red's glaring eyes. "I have friends in low places. You know the tricks of the trade."
Red did, otherwise, he'd been captured or killed years ago. The bastard slipped through the cracks as he had in Vegas. Weak, but effective. Heads would roll later, of that, Red was certain.
"As for the room," Carver waved his gun about the suite, "I killed the couple above you, used their balcony to... drop in, so to speak." He motioned to the opened patio doors. "So glad I got here in time to catch the show."
Grimacing, Liz gripped the sheet tighter, shuddering visibly. That this vile creature witnessed her and Red at their most vulnerable...
"Well, we aim to please." Red smiled pleasantly.
"I enjoyed it immensely," Carver said. "She's got great tits and a hot little pussy, if your reactions are any indication."
Red shifted casually about, blocking sight of the woman.
"Well, you would know better than I... you had a front-row seat." Carver conceded gallantly. "The show of dominance was lacking, however." He critiqued Red's performance, his scowl a disapproving one. "I expected better from the great Red Reddington."
"You more than anyone should know," Red held his tone, "I gain more from her total compliance... than not. One must build a foundation."
"Ah, yes," Carver nodded his understanding. "It is better when they simply lay back... relax and take it."
Red barely held his grimace of disgust, for he knew Carver had not meant that in a sexual sense... for the most part.
In either case, the implication curdled his blood.
"That cigar you had before your little fuck," Carver savored the lingering aroma, "smelled fantastic, by the way, what was it?"
Clamping his jaw tight, Red damned himself for not being more aware, especially considering he had felt something niggling at his brain before while on the balcony. He had just assumed it had been what was happening with Lizzy...
How wrong he had been in that assumption.
Good to know his alarm bells had been alert, where he hadn't been. He cursed inwardly, promising himself to never ignore the sensation again.
Sighing internally for the inane question, Red replied for no other reason but to buy them time. "Padrón," he replied finally. "I buy only the best."
"Does that apply to all facets of your life," Carver peered over the man's shoulder at the cowering woman, smiling affably, "or just cigars." The man tittered. "Perhaps you should use the phrase as your motto... Red Reddington only buys the very best." The man's hand branded the invisible writing in the air.
"I'll stitch it on a pillow." Red stood, seeking out his pants. He moved carefully as not to alarm the bastard.
"I'm sorry, did I say that you could get dressed?" Carver gestured to the action. "The more I dwell on it, I think I'd really enjoy like watching you fuck her... but please, put a little feeling into it this time, hum."
"You and I both know that it's gonna take me at least half an hour to reload." Red buttoned his waist, giving the man a sardonic look. "We also know you'll be wanting to kill us by then, your patience being what it is these days." He made mention. "I may not be dying with my boots on, but I sure as hell will, with my pants on."
Carver laughed, acquiescing. "There is that. As a male... I get it. I suppose I could always do the honors." He offered politely, staring coldly at Liz. "After I've finished with you, of course."
Disgusted and angered by the thought, Red seethed quietly. Like fucking hell, that prick was going to touch her.
That would be the last thing Carver would ever do. Red counted the minutes until the man's demise. Calculating all the many ways he would make the fucker suffer before that eventuality
Shrinking back into the pillows in a bid to hide, Liz welcomed the modicum of comfort offered by Red's gentle gaze. She had felt Carver's eyes on her body outlined under the sheet.
"Or you could just tell me what the fuck you want? You're getting blood on the carpet." Red had noted the abstract fact long since.
"You get your kicks your way..." Carver looked between Red and Liz, offering a lecherous sneer and wagging brows. "I get mine my way." he showed his forearm, blood dripping mechanically from the deep slice. "Adds a little kick of adrenaline... you should try it."
Liz felt the bile raise dangerously high in her throat for the implication. While watching them make love, the man had inflicted the wound as he ejaculated for an added boost.
Carver stared at Elizabeth for a long beat.
Red began to sweat, racking his brain for something to take the creep's mind off whatever sick scenario Carver was thinking.
"Well, gosh darn it... I feel bad." The guy shocked Red by the easy admission and nonsensical statement. "Don't you just wish others would mind their own business and let people live out their lives without outside influence?"
Red's brow furrowed, for he was totally lost. What the fuck was this idiot talking about?
"Look at you two. You're such a cute couple and now I have to go and spoil it all for you." Carver sighed for his lot in life. "I mean, she really gave a good account of herself last encounter... that's something I can appreciate. I like spunk in a woman."
Red shifted his eyes to a frightened 'woman'.
"Of course, she would have lost the battle but for your timely intervention, but that is neither here nor there." Carver waved the issue aside. "I really, really feel conflicted about this job at times like these."
"Then... why do it?" Red seized the moment. "Whatever you've been paid, you know I can counter it."
"That's true." Carver nodded. "But there is a principle, I hope you understand."
"At least tell me... who?" Red knew to keep the conversation open and flowing, biding time.
"Not sure that is allowed, either." The man seemed conflicted, for all of two seconds.
"Oh, isn't it obvious? I want your head," Carver sighed irritably at the idiotic question, "... or yours. Both would be fantastic." The man smiled brightly, seeking out his prey. "I'm just a whimsical guy...if some asshole wants to pay me for it, who am I to quibble."
"Who's paying the most now?" Liz couldn't believe how relaxed Red was. The man walked towards his tumbler without a care... like there wasn't a maniacal killer in the room with them at all. "It amuses me, just how much they think I'm worth these days."
Grasping Lizzy's robe in hand, Red tossed it her way as he poured the amber liquor.
"I'd rather she didn't." Carver stated blithely. "I'm rather enjoying the view."
Liz didn't even note the gesture, still too much in shock, the robe laying idly beside her unnoticed.
"Enjoy the view on your own time," Red sneered. "She's fucking cold." He said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"You can stare at her naked ass all you want after you take her head." Red grasped the decanter beside him, adding another splash to his glass. "I'm sure that's a kink of yours, anyway."
"Well, yes." Carver admitted, after a fashion, then moved on. "Simmons, out of Japan, is paying a pretty penny for you. You won't tell him I spilled the beans? Oh, wait... you'll be dead."
"He's still pissed I fucked his wife. I gotta say though, he's gonna run out of money, taking out all the men she's been with." Red hated sounding and acting so callous, but times were desperate. "So, it was me you were shooting at."
"You know, most normal people would have been unnerved to have you stare straight back at them through that scope," Carver smirked, "but then, I'm not normal, as you well know. I pride myself on my composure under pressure."
"Truer words had never been spoken." Red agreed, sipping his liquor. "You're a lousy shot, by the way." He made mention. "I would have been a sitting duck for someone of caliber."
"I never professed that was my forte." Carver took exception, his mouth lifting into a menacing smile. "I prefer working up close and personal." He purred the words, his smile increasing. "Anyhow, I wasn't too bothered by the fact that I missed."
Red somehow believed the man.
"It's very rare I'm provided the chance to hunt my prey." Carver sighed wistfully. "It's such a rush, stalking, then pouncing when it's least expected."
Any other time, Red may have encouraged the man to continue his demented diatribe, but should he die here tonight, the last thing he wanted to remember was hearing a crazed lunatic get off about his kills.
"Did you know I was going to be there?" He steered the conversation to something he could stomach.
"That was sheer good fortune on my part. I usually stick around when I feel they're going to find the body." Carver replied, his manner aloof. "I enjoy watching Feds getting all squeamish and blanching that off-grey color, don't you?" He chuckled. "Imagine my surprise to find you there. It was karma. It had to be."
So it was true. Karma was a bitch. Red thought.
Up to this point, Red had valiantly attempted to keep Elizabeth off the radar, but questions needed answers.
"And her?" Red casually gestured to Elizabeth. "Who wants her dead?"
"Anonymous." Carver shrugged. "No name, no face, only a voice." He seemed as annoyed by the fact as Red. "Only a direction to bleed her, quite literally, for information."
"About?" Red questioned.
"The fulcrum," Carver frowned, "whatever the hell that is."
"They didn't say?" Red fought to keep his expression neutral.
"How the hell should I know." Carver disgusted. "They always act like I give a shit about their secrets, spouting off bullshit double-speak."
In his line of work, Red knew of the type Carver spoke of quite well. Normally, it was politicians hoping to hide evidence, bury a skeleton, conceal an affair... something low on the totem pole.
"Due to their vague bullshit, she could have said anything... and she would have," Carver grinned maliciously, "and I wouldn't have a fucking clue, nor would I have cared."
"Why did you attack her?" Red changed the subject.
"At the time, I was just wanting to play, maybe piss you off." Carver told the truth. "Then I received a call to take her head... which I reluctantly accepted." He sought Liz out. "Really, I did. I thought and thought on the matter, Elizabeth. May I call you that? I feel we are old friends."
The man scowled suddenly to Red's confusion.
"Then I heard in the underground chatter about this bounty placed on her head." The man's ire lifted exponentially. "All of a sudden, everyone's on the hunt for her, nosing in on my kill. No professionalism whatsoever any longer!"
The fucking flyers Tom passed around! Red's blood boiled! Another fucker that had to be put down... not that he didn't plan on doing so anyway, but he digressed.
"Little fuckers not only threaten substantial monetary gain," Carver grumbled irritably, "they ruined the hunt I painstakingly planned." Sighing heavily, the man continued. "Which is why I'm here now." The man's scowl fell away, replaced by a beaming smile.
"And you picked here? A hotel, full of my associates?" Red snapped, his own ire soaring. "You're either an idiot or..."
"I appreciate a challenge." Carver scolded superficially. "Don't get cranky."
"...No." Red murmured absently, something niggling at his brain.
Liz frowned when Red's eyes lost focus, as if thinking to himself.
"It's fine.." Thankfully, Carver didn't notice, dismissing the remark and Red's lapse entirely.
Liz looked to the doorway of their room anxiously. Where was Dembe? Where was Silas? Did she not push the buttons correctly? Where was the help they desperately needed!
She felt a sudden scream rising in her throat, choking it down.
"Took me a couple days to figure out where you'd vanished to, then I remembered Donovan's little getaway." Carver shifted, laying his hand on the marble top of a nearby dresser. "I can't understand why I've never been invited... but I'm here now."
"So you are." Red nodded almost amiably. "So you are..."
"No matter," Carver shrugged. "Not my scene anyway. Never was one for friendly competition."
"But... you're here." Red arched his brow, repeating the obvious, buying as much time as humanly possible. Stalling...anything to postpone the inevitable.
"Heard you two were departing," Carver sing-songed his head. "Thought I'd get here and help end your vacation, not so much with a bang," he turned cold, dead eyes Liz's way, "... but a whimper."
Lifting his arm, Carver leveled his weapon on Red's chest. "Now... let the games begin."
Holding his expression, Red slowly lowered his drink to the table beside him, his mind stagnant for a brief second. If Carver killed him now, it would leave Lizzy alone, unprotected, at the mercy of this psychopath... and that just wasn't going to happen.
"You're going to shoot me?" Red screwed up his face in disbelief.
"Disappointed?" The gun wavered in Carver's hold, but didn't stray from its target. "Yeah, me too."
"Well, yes, I suppose, now that you mention it." Red debated. "I expected more from you. You usually take such pride in your work and being who I am..." he threw his hands out to the side, "yeah, I'm a bit put out by the crass disregard from my reputation."
"Rightfully so." Carver could afford to be magnanimous.
"I think you'd be more worried about tarnishing your own reputation." Red countered. "You shooting me says you couldn't control me. Which actually keeps my reputation intact." he egged the man on. "So maybe you're right to cap my ass."
"I'll worry about that later." Carver decided. He motioned with his weapon to a nearby chair. "Sit down, make yourself more comfortable."
"Fuck you." Red snarled, his anger finally displayed, for he sensed the game had shifted...and not in his favor, so why keep up any pretenses.
Carver casually swung his arm about... Red stiffened when the weapon landed squarely on Elizabeth.
"Sit down." Carver repeated pleasantly. "Let's be civilized, shall we?"
Red looked at the chair, then... crossed slowly, taking a seat.
"Wait!" Liz found her voice, although it sounded meek, feeble... so unlike her normal one.
"Elizabeth!" Red snapped, his gaze a scolding one that said; Do not show this asshole any weakness! Be quiet, I can handle this!
"Red Reddington's weakness." Carver tsked. "A woman." he sighed, shaking his head. "You try so hard to not let anyone know, don't you." he offered an empathetic look. "It's there every time you look at her. Especially when you think no one is observing. But... I know your little secret."
Liz ignored Red's warning stare. "Hear me out, please." She held the sheet close to her bare breasts, shifting slightly, raising to her knees on the soft mattress of the bed.
"Elizabeth!" Red's tone was sharp, abrupt.
Liz refused to look his way, holding Carver's amused eyes willfully. "You said I had merit. You said that." she reminded the raving lunatic. "Did I understand?"
"How noble a thing." Carver waxed poetic. "A female offering herself up for a sacrifice for want of love. I think I might tear-up here." The man altered his manner abruptly. "That is what you're offering here, isn't it?"
"...Yes." Liz nodded, swallowing the sick feeling in her stomach as it churned threateningly. "In a manner of speaking."
"Ah!" Carver laughed outright. "If she'd only been a virgin sacrifice, it would have been perfection!" the man shared an amused glance with a stone-faced Reddington.
"Carver... if you think about touching her..." Red's face was a mask of rage and conviction. "I promise you will wish you had never been born when I get through with you."
"Oh, like I haven't heard that before." The man stated, his tone sardonic. "I am open to compromise here, little lady, but I gotta tell ya... your boyfriend here seems the selfish type to me."
Red grasped at straws, hoping against hope to find some weakness in the man he faced.
"Carver, listen to me!" Red grated. "This is important to me!" He got the guy's attention finally. "This woman might possibly be carrying my child." He gritted.
On the off chance Dembe didn't get here in time, Red desperately needed to get the focus off Elizabeth. If he implied she was nothing more than an incubator for his child, perhaps the psychopath would focus his attention where it needed to be... on Red.
"If I give myself over to your tender mercies... will you agree to spare her until she knows for certain."
Carver sighed at the tactic, pulling his kit free of his boot. "I'm not sure I trust you." he chuckled. "What's so important about a brat kid, anyway? I never understood the attraction."
"My child would be my legitimate heir, you idiot." Red rolled his eyes expressively. "I've worked all my life to build something, what's the point if I don't have a legacy to pass on?"
"I've thought, once or twice, of a little mini-me... teaching him the tricks of my trade." Carver mused wistfully.
"Then you understand." Red gritted through his teeth. "She's just a means to an end...I swear!" He damn near choked on the words.
"It sounded like to me you respected her..." Carver narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
Red idly watched Carver lay out his tricks of his trade. The man lovingly smoothed his fingers along the cold blades, caressing each one in turn.
"I play the part... what does it hurt?" Red babbled, extending the moment. "The end results are a better blow... and I get to fuck bare pussy. Where's the downside?"
Liz caught Red's eyes. The man looked away, hiding his shame... his torment.
Carver shrugged. "Good point..."
"Honestly, it's a wonder the human race has survived, the way men ignore the obvious." Red continued. "You can understand, though. It's just a game I play with them."
"You're the master," Carver acknowledged Reddington's experience, drawing his blade against a smooth stone. "In the bedroom, anyway."
Liz drew in a shaky breath, garnering the men's attention. Carver held her eyes easily for a long beat.
"I think you hurt her feelings." Carver laughed, jerking his chin, gesturing towards the woman. He returned to his pastime.
Red shook his head once, abruptly, narrowing his eyes, silently begging Lizzy to be quiet... to understand his ploy.
"Maybe... or perhaps it's the knife which has her a little upset." Red heaved a sigh of annoyance, drawing the attention back towards himself once again. "You did attack her with one, after all."
"Yes, with this very one, as a matter of fact." Carver held it up, the light bouncing off the sharp blade. "I'm a sentimentalist at heart."
"I hope you've disinfected it since its last use." Red murmured.
"I take care of my equipment." Carver winked, rubbing a soft cloth along the blade, having offered over a pout of sorts.
"One should clean their weapons regularly." Red felt some comfort knowing he wouldn't sustain an infection when all was said and done, at least. If he survived the next few moments, that is.
"Not that it matters much on your end, considering you'll be dead." Carver reminded tactfully.
"There is that." Red granted, his tone wry.
"That's quite some scarring you have on your back there." Carver noticed. "Would you like me to remove it?" He stepped, then stopped abruptly. "No... I don't trust you one little bit. I forgot."
Curving his hands tight about the armrest, Red controlled his natural instinct to kick out, especially considering Carver's knee was within perfect striking distance.
"Elizabeth, assist me, please, if you will." Carver turned slowly, eyeing the girl.
"You said we could... t-talk." Liz swallowed hard.
"Did I?" Carver was waylaid. "I don't remember that."
"You implied it." She lied artfully. "He interrupted us."
"He's rude, isn't he." Carver sent a scolding glance.
"I know he doesn't really care about me." Liz stated in a husky whisper. "I'm not stupid, but I didn't care cause... he's got money and buys me nice clothes and jewels. He has cars and a jet... can you blame me for enjoying the perks? I don't have anyone. I'm alone. I have to... survive."
"That's a real issue at this stage, I agree." Carver nodded. "Sorry, just a little off-color humor on my part. You were saying?"
"Everyone has used me all my life." Liz said anything coming to mind to buy Red time. She tried not to look at the knife Carver was holding. "I'm just getting back a little of my own."
"No, what you're doing is stalling for time." Carver tsked. "But there is no need. We have all the time in the world, Elizabeth... didn't you know? I planned so we would."
Liz blinked. What did that mean? Did he somehow... hurt Dembe... Silas? Were they not coming eventually?
Her blood ran cold.
Carver turned with a suddenness that took Red by surprise... piercing Red's bicep with the tip of his knife. The man had moved so swiftly but with an elegance of fluidity which shocked Red's senses.
Red gasped, shrinking back into the depths of the chair, filtering the pain. His arm dropped down by the side of the chair which somehow eased the suffering a bit.
Liz cried out, scrambling from the bed.
Carver blocked her path, holding up a warning finger. "...No." The chillingly quiet word halted the woman's intended path.
In her haste, she had forgotten the sheet in her panic to get to Red. Numb to everything happening around her, she stood nude... tears rolling down her face.
"Red..." Liz breathed out her pain and agony. "... T-Tell me what to do..." the woman was floundering badly and she knew it. She sought guidance from a reliable source.
"Well, so much for your moving speech of a few moment's ago." Carver disdained. "Women! Can't trust them further than you can throw the trash bag you put them in... I didn't buy it anyway."
"I'm fine, Elizabeth." Red's look was one of patience and sympathy. "Don't let him get to you, baby."
"Tie him." Carver's tone altered to a cold intensity.
"No!" Liz snarled the reply. "I won't, you filthy pig!" Liz's anger finally sparked, it burned in her gut like a hundred molten rocks. She had noted the deep slit in Red's shoulder, the man's life fluid oozing from the wound like a stream of paint on a bloody canvas.
Her stomach flipped over, nausea overtaking her until the anger replaced the sick feeling.
"You will obey me." Carver warned. "Or I shall surely slit your throat right before his very eyes."
The menace dripped from the venomous words. "And you know I will do it, Reddington... your choice how this plays out."
"Do it, Elizabeth." Red commanded. "Go to the closet, get some of my ties."
"No!" the woman balked, glancing around for some sort of weapon. "No!" She vowed vehemently. "We may have to suffer your sick ass but I'll be fucking damned if I help you in your grotesque undertakings, you abhorrent freak of nature!"
"Was it something I said?" Carver held his amusement, his good humor restored. "Look how those beautiful tits bounce when she moves like that." Carver's good mood was returning. "Turn you on, Reddington? Having the same effect on me."
Liz's eyes shone with her hatred and revulsion. "Your fucking time will come!" She felt it in her bones. "I only hope I'm there to see it."
"You won't be." Carver chuckled his mirth. "More's the pity, hey?"
"Elizabeth!" Red garnered her attention. "Look at me!" He ordered.
The blue eyes darted to his gentle ones. "It's okay, baby. Listen to me... hear my words."
Liz shook her head, the long hair moving jerkily with the sharp action.
"Listen to me..." Red held the woman's eyes, gesturing for her to go do his bidding, to go into the closet as he had asked.
"Yes, Elizabeth, listen to him." Carver encouraged. "We can have a pretty good time here, if you know your place in the scheme of things."
"I will end you." She gritted her belief. "I will see you dead by my own hand!"
"Back at cha." Carver chuckled. "Told you she had spunk."
Carver stepped rapidly, moving remarkably fast for such a large man. In seconds he was behind Reddington, knife to the man's throat. "You have to learn the rules of engagement, little girl."
He held Liz's eyes, slowly sinking the blade into Red's flesh just inches away from the previous cut he made. He cut deeper, pushing through the muscle inch by slow inch.
"Stop..." Liz sobbed brokenly, dropping to her knees, all the fight leaving her suddenly. The agony in Red's features shattering her world.
Red had to give it to the fucker, Carver knew what he was doing. The cut was clean, the blood loss minimal. Carver got his jollies... while keeping his victim coherent.
Tenderly gazing at Elizabeth, Red's compassion poured out for the woman. He tried to steady his breathing, to look past the pain. He knew how to filter his emotions.
Elizabeth...she did not know how to do such things. Red's heart went out to her.
"We have to behave," Carver said almost paternally, "don't we, Elizabeth. You have to be a good little girl. No more histrionics, now. You are better than that, yes?"
Subtly lifting his hand, Red silently asked the woman to fade into the background... become invisible... for both their sakes.
Bowing her head, Liz fell silent, withdrawing into herself in an effort to do as Red asked.
Breathing through the pain, Red looked down at the long cut with disinterest. "Your victims must have been weak stock that you believed such a beginning would bother me to any great extent."
"I merely enjoy the sensation of the smoothness of the slice." Carver corrected any misconceptions. "I get better as the evening wears on... you'll see."
Gritting his jaw tight, Red breathed slow, even breaths, inwardly fighting to stifle his reaction to the searing pain as Carver's blade slipped deeper past the flesh into the muscle.
Liz closed her eyes, the sight too painful to bear. She moaned pitifully, the sound like some wounded animal to Carver's appreciative ears.
"Better?" Carver all but crooned, his tone almost paternal.
"Feels like a papercut." Red acknowledged the question with the first thing to come to mind. His breathing concentrated, his reaction calculated... the pain, excruciatingly real...how the fuck was he to hold up under this maniac's particular brand of entertainment.
He would figure a way...for Elizabeth's sake.
Drawing the blade downward, Carver breathed out his enjoyment as the vibration of flesh and muscle being cut traveled through the hilt and into his fingers. "Hurts so good, hum?"
The man chortled freely, the sound disgusting to Red.
Closing his eyes, Red grasped for memory of how badly his back hurt after the fire... focusing on that pain. The pain had been unbearable, so intensely agonizing in fact, he often wished to put a bullet in his head to end the nearly unendurable agony.
The only thing that kept him from doing so was his daughter... and Lizzy. They needed him to fight and make things right. Lizzy needed him now...to focus all the hate he was experiencing on one thing.
He wouldn't let her down.
Taking a deep, cleansing breath, Red drew on that memory, that pain stimuli.
The woman had crumpled to the floor, her sobs wretchedly heartbreaking.
Red eyes sought out that small, huddled form instinctively. His resolve hardened.
He survived the fire... that pain... he would survive this.
"Red..." Liz's voice shook as she watched the blood run in thick rivulets down Red's arms. "Make it stop..." the whispered agony touched Red's soul.
Lizzy watched the drops gather into thick streams which ran down Red's arm, onto his hand ...each drop ballooned into fat blobs before falling down into the carpet. They spread out like little red fingers as the carpet soaked the stain into its fibrous texture.
"You...fucking...prick." She whispered brokenly. That was Red's blood! If she weren't here, Red would be fighting back...not allowing...what he was allowing. She had never felt the depth of loathing which was inundating her now. Never!
It burned her mind, imprinting upon her psyche.
Pulled from their own thoughts, both Red and Carver glanced towards the woman. "What's her problem?"
Piercing the woman's eyes with his own, Red shook his head once... sternly.
Taking the opportunity provided, Red gathered his breath, reigning in his pain... readying himself for more.
"Are you always so easily distracted?" Red insulted the man's lack of concentration.
"I don't usually have such a captive audience." Carver grinned charmingly. "This is turning out very well, I think. What are your thoughts on the matter?"
Drawing the blade along Red's trouser leg, Carver pushed, cutting through the material and the flesh beneath it with meticulous care to detail.
Dropping his head back into the chair, Red groaned low, drawing in air to clear his mind.
"Hurts a little, hmm?" Carver sympathized. "I can imagine."
"I'll let you in on a little secret...my inner masochist kinda enjoys it." Red bantered aloud. Inwardly, he was cursing Dembe and Silas with every vulgarity he could muster, for the mere fact, it made him feel better.
"Give me a little input here," the guy scratched his head absently, "this should be memorable don't you agree." Carver studied his 'canvas' critically "I could do... an abstract of course, but it's so cliché." he mused thoughtfully. "I usually just carve my initials, but you and I are so simpatico, I feel the need to up my game, so to speak."
Red knew, for the next few minutes at least, the turning point might just be something he could not stand. He pushed the negativity from his mind.
"Can you give me a minute to dwell," Red snarked, "you're right, this is important."
"If you suggest her initials..." Carver glanced to the woman, "I may just vomit... and I refuse to do art deco, just saying."
"Elizabeth doesn't like art deco." Red stated quietly.
Red shifted his eyes just enough to ascertain how Elizabeth was fairing. The woman was in a tangled mass on the floor; her face a pale, shimmering glow of sweat and terror. Her eyes were shut tightly, her body curled into a fetal position. Soft agonizing sounds escaped her throat.
"Before you kill me." Red groaned softly, having been given a momentary reprieve. "Answer me this, so I'm not rotting in hell for all eternity, wondering."
Carver motioned the man to continue. "I can wait. Please, who am I to deny a man his last wish."
"Who wanted Edward dead?" Red could have cared less, but a moment's reprieve was a moment without searing pain.
"That little bastard was meant to die." Carver chuckled. "If it wasn't me who tagged him, it was gonna be someone else." He gestured to Red meaningfully. "You should know, considering you killed him, and quite impressively too! I applaud your noble goals."
"Highlight of my day..." Red exhaled shakily, losing his grip for a brief second. He shook his head, clearing his blurred vision.
"Shame you got to that prick, pardon the pun, before I did." Carver laughed at his own wit. "I appreciated the part where you cut his dick off." He snickered. "It was like an homage to me."
"Yeah, answer my question." Red panted. Keep the fucker occupied...
"Well, I was first approached by the Germans." Carver recalled. "It's always the Germans. They contracted a lot of three individuals. I gave them a discount, of course. Edward was among their choices."
Just as Red thought, business gone wrong.
"There was also some woman, Magdeline," Carver hesitated, frowning slightly, "no, it was Madeline, that's right, Madeline Pratt." He was proud of his ability to recall. "She couldn't meet my price... she's a looker, though."
Closing his eyes tight, Red felt his stomach drop sickeningly. The thought that fucker Edward had violated... he shook the horribly disturbing thoughts away.
Red may be at odds with the woman, more often than not, but he would never wish that on her, ever. "Maddie..." he whispered painfully.
"Was that the extent of your inquiries?" Carver asked amiably.
Making a mental note to reconnect with Madeline and assure the woman the threat was neutralized, Red set aside all other thoughts and refocused his attention on the matter at hand.
"What's with the letters and pictures?" Red blinked, the sweat pouring into his eyes obscuring his vision. "Are you padding your resumé?"
Carver frowned, his confusion apparent.
"You didn't send Elizabeth those?" Red gestured to a folder sticking out of his satchel over by the desk.
Placing his knife in his belt sheath, Carver palmed his gun, retrieving the folder indicated.
"What have we here?" He had stepped over the small form huddled on the floor.
Carver sat on the bed, patiently reading through the missives, taking his time, clearly interested.
By the sixth one, Carver's wide shoulders shook with mirth.
"Well... isn't he a positively creepy bastard." Carver shivered mockingly. "Though, I should have thought of it, I regret to say, these are not mine." He tossed the papers aside. "Even I don't think I could be that psychotic."
"Sure you could, if you put your mind to it." Red sighed heavily. Though his gut told him it had not been Carver sending the letters, in a way, he hoped it had been.
Carver let that one pass with but a mischievously wicked grin passed Red's way.
But he had just confirmed what Red dreaded all along. There was another sicko out there with a twisted obsession for Lizzy.
"How are you fairing down there, Elizabeth?" Carver stooped, brushing her hair from her face.
Liz cringed as the cold blade of the knife he used sent shivers down her spine. She moved away from any contact.
"Not to worry, I have forgotten about you... be patient, my little pin cushion."
"Are we done here?" Carver asked impatiently, moving from the huddled figure below him. "I'm losing the mood."
Lifting his head, Red let it fall back into the seat as he looked up at the man.
"You are..." Red sneered his rage, "one sick, twisted son-of-a-bitch."
"No need for compliments." Carver demurred, "at such a late date."
Red felt a sudden breeze cool his fevered flesh. He sensed something stir the air. He shifted his eyes as a large shadow moved behind the gauzy veil of the drapes. His body tensed... relief flooding his system.
"Well, look what we've got here." Silas drawled, laying the muzzle of his gun against the intruder's head. "The mother of all psychopaths."
"I said," Carver moved ever co carefully, "no need for faint praise. I know my worth."
Slumping forward, Red rested his forearms on his thighs, panting shakily. Sweat poured freely into the open wounds dotting his flesh, stinging and burning the clean cuts.
"You didn't tell me we were expecting guests." Carver exasperated. "I would have prepared."
Keeping the gun tight against the man's skull, Silas reached about, relieving Carver of his knife as Dembe approached from the right, his weapon trained directly on Carver's forehead.
"We have all sorts of activities planned for you." The large guard promised. "Our own private little garden party...just you...and me. Won't it be fun!"
"Catchy little ditty, that song." Carver remarked. "I don't think it got as much press as it should have at the time."
Elizabeth lifted her head, something getting through the haze of abject terror surrounding her.
Tossing the blade to the wayside, Silas tentatively reached for the gun in Carver's hand.
Ducking the man's attempt, Carver spun about, the weapon firing.
"Elizabeth!" Red gasped his horror, bolting from his seat. Throwing himself forward, Red caught Lizzy's waist, pulling her out of the range of fire.
Continuing the hurried movement, Red tumbled with the woman across the floor, keeping his body covering her smaller one. Blood smeared over parts of her nudity, and Red knew, the floor scraped her tanned skin as he went.
Lashing out, Silas caught Carver's arm with both his own, wrapping his hands about the weapon just as it discharged once again. He brought the arm down with enough force to break it. The gun clattered to the floor.
Red checked Lizzy visually for injury. "Stay here!" he commanded hoarsely.
Kicking Carver out and away from Elizabeth's location, Silas grinned malevolently as Carver struggled to his feet, brandishing yet another concealed knife.
"Is that supposed to intimidate me, you bitch. That's not a knife," Silas produced his own, "this..." he smirked, taking on an Australian accent as he quoted Crocodile Dundee, "is a knife."
"I love that movie!" Carver exclaimed. Panting heavily, he wiped the perspiration from his brow.
Liz gasped her shock and fear as Carver's blade gleamed in the low light. Where the hell had he pulled it from, she didn't know, and didn't care. All she knew was, the asshole was armed with his choice weapons.
"Silas... be careful." She pleaded, she struggled to her knees, clasping the sheets in tight fists as she peered over the mattress top.
Dembe appeared from the shadows, jabbing his fist hard into Carver's jaw, causing the man to stumble back almost comically.
Red leveled his own weapon at the man, his eyes murderous. "Back off, you twisted fucker!" he ordered his men to stand down with a jerk of his hand.
"Fuck off, Red!" Silas bitched, punching Carver square in the gut. "It really pisses me off, you fucking call for assistance," the man spat, "then have the gall to try and direct my actions!" He growled, kicking his heel out towards Carver's knee, bending it inward.
Carver went down heavily, groaning loudly. His head swam fuzzily, the pain overwhelming him.
"You sure took your fucking time getting here!" Red reminded tartly.
"You enjoy the suspense, and damn well know it!" Silas snapped. "Don't be a pussy!"
"Not when Elizabeth is involved!" Red ignored the implication, but clarified his demands, nonetheless. "There's no fucking with me when she's involved!"
"I do have a life of my own!" Silas blocked a blow coming for his head. "One of which, you interrupted tonight... and at a crucial moment, mind you!" He smacked Carver in the face as hard as he could muster.
"I swear to God," Red snapped, "if you start spouting off about how I interrupted some woman blowing you on the rooftop terrace, I'll snap your fucking neck!" He warned. "Now do your job, dammit!"
Silas fell silent, because quite frankly, he was unable to refute Red's claim. Grunting, he lifted his assailant upright, shoving Carver towards Dembe with a roundabout twirl. "Your turn!"
Dembe's fist lashed out again, smashing the man's nose and mouth. Blood sputtered everywhere.
Silas threw his hands out at his sides, a look of disbelief on his face. "That's it! That's all you're gonna do... punch him?"
Falling back into the bureau, Carver lost his grip on the knife in his hand, catching himself on the dresser.
"It is most effective." Dembe replied, gesturing towards Carver's wayward fall, for the guy had stumbled unexpectedly. "Besides, you are doing well enough, unless you are not telling me something." He needled the head guard.
"Kiss my ass, Dembe." Silas growled, crushing his boot heel into Carver's braced hand, crushing bones.
"You boys play rough." Carver hissed painfully, arising slowly. "While I normally enjoy rough play, you're not my type." he spat blood, lifting eyes to his antagonist. "Sure, the hair is perfect, but I don't care for dicks." he struggled to take in air. "Prefer sweet, juicy cunts."
Silas twisted sideways, his leg lashing out, the move connecting with Carver's temple.
He stumbled, putting some distance between Silas and himself, careening through the porch doors, shattering most of the glass panels.
Glass tinkled merrily in all directions, flung out by the force of Carver's form as it smashed through.
Rushing forward, Silas put his whole heart and soul into ramming a powerful shoulder into Carver's rib-cage.
Red could hear bones crack even from the distance he stood, attempting to gather a modicum of strength. Blood dripped haphazardly from each and every cut on his body.
Carver gasped from the pain of contact, which made the man's knees buckle into an uncontrolled and punishing fall to the hard concrete patio terrace.
Silas advanced, lifting the guy with no effort to his feet. Backhanding the bastard, Carver fell back into a large potted plant, squishing Lizzy's favorite philodendron, the cone flowers and gladiolas mixed within the trailing begonias, suffered severe damage indeed.
Silas barreled toward the man as Carver managed to lift to his feet.
The momentum knocked the guard's victim backward, sending both men careening toward the metal brace of the railing.
Dembe's hand shot out, catching Silas' bulk from advancing. Silas latched onto the front of Carver's shirt, halting the creep's intended plunge two-stories down to the sidewalk below.
"Whoo..." Carver blew out a breath, chuckling. "That could have proved fatal... huh."
Finding his footing, Silas slammed Carver's back onto a sturdy deck table, punching the guy full in the face. "You're not getting off that easily, you sick bastard."
Dembe swirled, weapon pointed at the sound of the main door to the suite, bursting open. He lowered his arm, recognizing the new intruders into his present domain... he retrained the weapon on a reticent Carver.
Silas more than roughly turned his captive on his stomach, easily securing Carver's wrists with zip-ties.
Daniel sauntered into the fray, a curious look on the man's face. "You should hog-tie him, Silas. It's the Texas way."
"Then you can carry the heavy son-of-a-bitch." Silas scoffed.
Francis took in the destruction in one slow, meaningful sweep, his eyes finally resting on Elizabeth. Struggling to her knees, hurriedly pulling a robe over her shoulders, she tied the sash with trembling fingers. Her attention remained trained on Silas, her eyes staring vacantly straight ahead.
Francis and Mark, sensing trouble was a thing of the past, both holstered their weapons. Francis approached Red slowly.
"Wow... you've looked better." he withdrew his phone, examining every wound on Red's body as he went. "You the one who went through the French doors?"
Red shook his head absently.
"Should I call Kaplan to–"
"No," Red held up a restraining hand, weakly gesturing to Lizzy. "See to her."
"I'm okay." Liz muttered vacuously, never once taking her attention from her guard or his prisoner.
"What the hell happened here?" Mark stepped close, needing the particulars. Granted, the room was in better condition and wasn't in the shambles Red caused when he confronted Edward Costa, but still... the destruction was impressive, and unexpected. "Who is that asshole?" He motioned accordingly.
Silas was hauling the 'asshole' up from his prone position.
"How did he breach security protocols?" Mark demanded a response.
"Check the people upstairs." Red stated quietly.
"Oh, I didn't hurt them... much." Carver's dry chuckle only brought him another punch from Silas' beefy fist.
Red's face was grimly set. "He came in from the balcony. It's on me." he admitted freely.
Liz stepped back into the shadows, having noted the steely glint of Carver's weapon amid the broken, scattered debris of their room.
"He has a contact here. That's what he indicated." Red wiped the sweat from his brow. "I want a name within the hour, Mark. Can you help?"
Mark's face was set. He looked Red over, noting the whey-faced expression of Lizzy's face.
"You'll have it." He strode from the room. "I'll send Lister." He called over his shoulder.
Liz crouched, palming the heavy metal, curling her fingers about the rough grip of Carver's gun.
"Let's you and me go have that private little chat, shall we?" Silas pushed Carver forward, his grip an unbreakable one on the other guy's bicep.
Silas stopped dead in his tracks.
Liz stood, her slight frame blocking the doorway... gun lifted, poised in steady enough hands.
"Eh..." Silas formulated a hasty plan, absently scratching his jawline, his eyes gentle on the woman's blank expression. "Whatcha doin' there, scooter?"
"Stay out of this." Liz whispered ardently. Her aim never once wavered.
Red noted the unnatural quiet about the woman.
"Well, I'm kind 'in' it." Silas noted his proximity to the object of her ire.
"Lizzy!" Francis' mouth had fallen agape for the turn of events. "Are you upset about something?"
Red, Dembe and Silas all spared the guy a scowling look.
"Lizzy," Red stepped slowly, so as not to alarm or startle the woman, "we've got this covered. Dembe and Silas... they have it all under control." He amended rapidly. "There's no need for this, I assure you."
"I assure you," Liz's eyes had not once wavered from Carver's, "... there is."
Red moved closer. He could see the cold, dark, unfathomable look in Lizzy's eyes. "Baby... please."
Liz shook the long tresses. She stepped, the barrel of the weapon coming flush against Carver's forehead.
"This is interesting." The man's mouth curled into a smile.
"Shut the fuck up." Silas growled. "I don't care if she pulls the trigger... but I just washed my hair and this is my most favorite shirt in the world."
"Peroxide gets blood out." Carver helpfully informed.
"It does not..." Silas grouched. "That's an old wives tale."
"Elizabeth," Dembe, ever the logical one, spoke softly. "There are questions which need to be answered, concerning his victims." He reminded the woman of her work back home.
Red noted the slight wavering of the woman's convictions.
"Liz, do you trust me to get those answers?" Silas stepped to the plate. "One way... or other?"
"Can you live with it, Lizzy?" Francis' tone was gentle and sincere. "Pulling that trigger... it's easy enough when the emotions are high. It's the quiet afterwards that gets to you."
Red spared the kid a glance. Francis had spoken his own private thoughts. Could Lizzy live with herself if she killed an unarmed man, even one as loathsome as the trash before her?
"Yes, take a minute." Carver sagged against Silas' strength, for he had none of his own at present. "Get your head together... take a breather."
Silas whacked the guy upside the head, the tap none too gentle.
Carver quietened with a smile. "Hey, he probably just wants to hold you in his strong, capable arms. In a few minutes, by my calculations," he glanced at a nearby clock, "Reddington there will be ready for another long, leisurely fuck."
Silas elbowed the guy's stomach, lifting the same elbow to clip Carver's chin. "You just don't know when to shut the fuck up, do you!"
Carver lifted a cold, calculating stare, catching Elizabeth's eyes, holding them willfully. "She's a good subservient bitch... aren't you?" He taunted. "You men should have been here earlier," he scoffed derisively. "She spread her legs like a bitch in heat."
"And," Liz smirked at her tormentor, "I always will... for him." She brought the gun barrel sharply across Carver's temple.
Silas held the guy aloft for a brief second, then shoved the bastard hard to the floor. "Man down."
Red slumped against Francis' shoulder, not aware of doing so. The young man, held his friend up with a supportive show of nonchalance.
"Take the trash out, boys." He motioned to waiting security. "And don't be too gentle in your duties."
Liz had stepped back, the weapon dropping to her side. She looked at Carver's broken, crumpled body. She felt nothing whatsoever.
Silas studied her evenly. "You okay, scout?" he lifted his hand, tugging playfully on the ends of her hair.
Liz shifted a blank stare.
Silas sought out Red, his brows lifting for the woman's odd behavior.
Red stumbled to Lizzy's side, pulling the woman into his embrace. He buried his face in the cool strands of her hair, his eyes closing tightly as he breathed out a shuddering sigh.
Dembe fell in behind Security, following their trek, with Silas close behind. The guard retraced his steps, latching onto Francis, who stood, blatantly watching Red and Liz.
"Come along. You can take notes for the meeting." Silas discreetly cleared the area, giving the couple a moment's privacy.
"What meeting?" Francis wanted to know. "I don't know about any meeting. I'm not getting my damned memos again!"
Silas shoved the guy over to Dembe. "Just for the record." he leaned to the embracing couple. "It wasn't the rooftop terrace... I was getting my game on the gun-range. Just wanted the record straight."
"Get the hell out of here." Red grumbled.
Silas... got the hell out of there, a grin on his handsome, if jaded, face.
Lister came on scene. The guard shut the door gently. He would give Red a few more minutes alone with what he needed most.
Red stood quietly, his arms bands of steel around Lizzy's waist. He swayed a bit, the blood loss affecting him.
Liz startled, catching the swaying form, her eyes large and vacant.
"I'm good." He tried a smile.
Concern was etched on the pretty face. "Sit down. I'll get Liste–"
"Not yet," Red shook his head, catching her arm in a gentle hold. "Give me a moment." He eased himself down into the chair opposite the one Carver had chosen for his little game. "I think... it went straight through anyway." He eased about, grimacing, checking the wound on his side.
Liz gasped her shock. "He shot you!?" She knelt instantly. "Oh, my god!" She made to rise. "I'll get Demb–"
"Lizzy." Red raised his voice, if only to get her attention where he needed it to be.
Liz's eyes were panicked, her breathing rapid. "I want Lister in here, now!"
Red relented, laying his head back, closing his eyes. Lizzy rushed to the door, flinging it wide. She met Silas' calm stare.
"Doctor, if you would," she motioned jerkily, motioning the older man forward. "please... hurry."
Lister entered, cigarette in place, the smoke stinging Lizzy's eyes as he passed. "I am destined to get little sleep tonight, I see." He got down to basics, with the gruff rejoinder.
Silas entered the room, then Francis, who stretched his head to see all that was going on. "Another flesh wound? What's this one make? Anyone keeping track? Is there a pool going?"
Lister's nurse arrived, numerous supplies in hand. Liz moved to the side, standing just off to Red's right, in his line-of-sight, watching the transactions for a long beat.
Red closed his eyes, taking in the quiet. He needed a little quiet along about now, he realized.
Liz discreetly backed off, seeking out the sanctuary of the closet. She pushed the door partially closed. Red sensed her departure.
Keeping his attention locked on her location, Red breathed when the woman stepped out, having hastily donned some jeans and a shirt.
Staying off to the side, Liz watched the medical teams progress, smiling reassuringly at him from time to time.
"That went right through the old muffin-top." Francis leaned close, watching Lister work his magic.
"You're in my light, boy." The doctor shooed him back, ash falling from the tip of his cigarette.
Red sent the kid a belligerent glare.
"Did I say muffin-top?" Francis backtracked hastily. "I meant muscle... right through the muscle in your side, which is plentiful. Lots of muscle there, anyone can see that."
Shifting his glaring eyes towards Silas, the guard sighed, but did as silently asked, whopping Francis sharply across the back of the head.
"Oof!" Francis grunted, but hastily fell silent, absently rubbing his new boo-boo.
"Lizzy," Red reached for the woman, but stopped himself for his hands were covered in blood, "baby, are you all right?"
She nodded, forcing a smile.
"Let's get that disinfected." Lister, having swabbed the wound, turned his attention to 'clean-up'.
Red grimaced but suffered the sting of stitches the doctor had begun.
"The numbing meds should take effect soon." Lister promised.
"Suppose it never occurred to you to wait until they do?" Red gritted his teeth.
"Suck it up." Lister grumbled, blowing smoke up and away from the wound.
Red waved the fumes aside. He eyed Lizzy intently. "Lizzy, you want Silas to take you to another room so you can get some rest?"
She shook her head, smiling wanly. "No, but would it be okay if I got a drink?" she motioned to the other room and the awaiting bar.
"Yeah." Red managed a chuckle, "bring me one, will ya?"
"That's a good decision." Lister lifted a scolding brow.
Liz moved past Silas, connected with the guy's eyes. The man smiled minutely down at her.
"You did good, kid. I'm proud of you."
Liz nodded, going on her way. She had not done well...not at all.
"I'll have a whiskey... straight up." Silas called back, returning his interest to Red and the physician.
Liz hesitated at the bar, her mind and emotions in turmoil. She stared for a long moment at all the different decanters... all the liquors.
She had not done well at all.
She moved slowly past the bar, out the shattered entrance to the suite, into the hallway... no real destination in mind.
She moved past the gawking people filling the corridor outside the room, mindless of her state of dress.
Picking up the pace, she left behind the quiet murmuring of gossip.
Bypassing the elevator, she sprinted down the connecting corridor, her bare feet catching traction. She took corners without issue...
Hitting the staircase at a dead run, she dodged slower moving guests who wanted the exercise.
Liz quickened her gait, her breath coming harder and labored, her heart pounding faster and louder in her ears.
"Elizabeth! What's wrong?" She heard, but didn't stop to see who it was asking of her welfare.
Heading directly to Mark's office, she shoved the door open wide with one confidant push.
Stalking across the expensive plush carpeting, she retreated to the hidden staircase Red had once shown her.
Her entire body was numb with pain and searing emotions that coursed through its system. Her mind felt like it was on fire with conflicting emotions.
It felt as if her legs could not support her weight one second more, but she moved forward entirely on instinct.
Bouncing down the stairs, she ran the length of the hall to the first closed door she found.
Noting the keypad, she grimaced as she realized the steady red light indicated it was locked.
Taking a calming breath, Liz input her code, hoping beyond hope it would work. She held her breath as she heard the slight beep before the light finally shifted to green.
Grasping the door handle, she hesitated, then resolutely pushed through the doorway.
As expected, Carver sat there in one lone chair... on the other side of the room. His features were blank of emotion. It was rather unnerving to stand across from someone so dead inside.
But that is exactly how she felt, she realized suddenly.
"Oh, look who's here." Carver's contemptuous smile came with sickening speed. "Come to give me another view of those great tits?"
"You hurt me." Liz's voice sounded so emotionless, it frightened her. This... thing, frightened her. For it was far removed from anything human she ever encountered to date.
"I can hurt you again, if you'd only spread those pretty white thighs." Carver taunted. "You might actually come to like it." He rolled his eyes. "That was just an unforgivable pun, wasn't it."
"You hurt Red." She remembered so vividly just how much, her tone allowing the same type of pain.
"In my defense, I was actually trying to kill him." Carver stated sincerely, already tiring of the woman. "What the hell is your point?"
"Why did you attack me?" She demanded to know. "What had I ever done to...deserve it?"
"For the money, of course." Carver sighed heavily. "It was nothing personal. Oh, wait... who are we kidding, right? Of course, it was personal. About as personal as it can get!" The man spat his contempt. "And every woman deserves it. You're all pathetic creatures who are put here for one thing, a man's pleasure. The sooner you learn the lesson, the better off you'll all be."
Unsure of how it all unfolded exactly, Liz suddenly found herself across the room, pummeling the man with every ounce of strength left in her body. Her fists doubled into mechanism of rage, and she had bolted the last few feet...eager to allow a measure of the horrible emotions inside her to find an escape goat.
Then suddenly, she was shoved; the action landing her hard into the wall behind her.
She blinked languid eyes, shock filtering into her brain.
Carver's hands came into view, as he readily pushed his weight aloft.
A startled breath caught in Liz's throat as logic sank in.
The man slowly arose from the chair...
Somehow, Carver had released his hands.
He favored his right side, bending slightly and when he stepped...it was clear, the man's leg was not working properly but still, the creature advanced in that slow, mindless gait.
Cold, reptilian eyes stared back at Liz's wide, awe-filled ones.
"Looks as if we will have some private time after all." Carver's thick, throaty chuckled unnerved the woman. "There is a God."
Liz's mouth fell agape, but something primitive spread through her mind like wildfire. Her eyes hardened, her resolve strengthened. "Not for the likes of you, there isn't." She set her mind.
She lunged for her foe, murder in her heart.
So thus began... the literal fight for her life.
AUTHOR NOTE: So it doesn't drive you crazy, the song Carver referenced was "Garden Party" by Ricky Nelson.