03-12-2016, 05:14 AM
Vincent barrelled clumsily over the table as his foe fell, darting unsteadily toward the dying man’s partner. Though he had yet to regain full command over them, his tempered limbs moved with relative efficiency of their own accord. His reaction was more akin to impulse than a planned assault; his body had refused to stay down. Fight over flight.
Agent Williams watched with mild surprise as the pale Prime threw a savage elbow into his partner’s gut, eliciting a bona fide cry of pain from the otherwise stoic fellow. He had taken to falling back a few steps, pulling a pistol from beneath his suitcoat as he watched Miller's collapse into a pitiful heap. Without a second thought he leveled his piece at the deranged patient, letting loose a trio of slugs in succession into the Prime’s back. Each found their mark, burning holes through the man’s labcoat as they punched into his pale flesh. The scraggly attacker fell predictably to the linoleum, landing on his side with a crude thud.
“Unfortunate,” the operative monotoned. He holstered his weapon, raising a manicured finger to his earpiece. “Subject X-3 displayed brief signs of life, but ultimately ceased function. Subject to be relegated to cryostorage.”
The agent lowered his hand, ceasing the communications. His colleagues would be along shortly to clean up his mess. His schedule had not involved the elimination of experiment three; he had no doubt that his employer would not be pleased with the news. Still, he had not broken contract. His assignment was purely to keep the subject on the grounds. Whether the man was alive or dead was immaterial.
“Dismissed,” Williams muttered, stooping to pull the earpiece from his former partner’s corpse. He watched with interest as the color drained from Miller's face, his skin rapidly becoming pallid. The curiosities of this universe never seemed to end. As the man’s corpse began to shrink before him, he allowed himself a moment to admire his reflection in his now-deceased partner’s shades. It was a full second before he noticed the pair of red irises burning in the darkness behind him.
No…
A beat.
Before the agent’s expert digits could find their way back to the butt of his .50 caliber, Williams felt pain rampage through his gut. He turned his head slowly downward, glimpsing the business end of a coal black machete painted with his own dark red ichor. Desperation spurred his hand to grip the pistol, quickly tugging it free of its holster. The gun hung in the Agent’s grip for a mere second before clattering to the ground an instant later, the pale Prime wrenching his blade upward and through the agent’s chest.
Vincent heaved uneven breaths, a crimson aura cloaking his form. Blood oozed from the bulletholes that dotted his upper back as he inhaled, the plasma staining his coat a similar hue. Thankfully, though his attacker’s aim was true, the suited man’s bullets were unable to puncture any vital organs; they instead had nestled between the sinews in his back and shoulder, affording the raven-haired man a reminder to avoid such incidents in the future. His thoughts were hazy, fury only barely prevailing over the confusion and grogginess with which he had recently awoken.
Presently the Turk’s rage began to ebb as he allowed Chaos’ influence to slip away, the aura slowly fading to nothingness. His hands shook as he began to methodically wipe the blood from his gunblade, smearing yet more blood onto the labcoat. Under normal circumstances he would take the time to investigate the computer further, perhap even care for his wounds. He doubted however that he would be alone for much longer. The well-dressed gunman had muttered some variety of message just moments earlier to the communication device that dangled from his ear and Vincent was not keen on awaiting the recipient of said message. Finally catching his breath, the Prime kneeled down and tugged the device from his attacker’s ear, depositing it into one of the large pockets on the front of his labcoat. Chimerical weapon in hand, the ex-Turk quickly left the duo of desiccating agents behind.
Agent Williams watched with mild surprise as the pale Prime threw a savage elbow into his partner’s gut, eliciting a bona fide cry of pain from the otherwise stoic fellow. He had taken to falling back a few steps, pulling a pistol from beneath his suitcoat as he watched Miller's collapse into a pitiful heap. Without a second thought he leveled his piece at the deranged patient, letting loose a trio of slugs in succession into the Prime’s back. Each found their mark, burning holes through the man’s labcoat as they punched into his pale flesh. The scraggly attacker fell predictably to the linoleum, landing on his side with a crude thud.
“Unfortunate,” the operative monotoned. He holstered his weapon, raising a manicured finger to his earpiece. “Subject X-3 displayed brief signs of life, but ultimately ceased function. Subject to be relegated to cryostorage.”
The agent lowered his hand, ceasing the communications. His colleagues would be along shortly to clean up his mess. His schedule had not involved the elimination of experiment three; he had no doubt that his employer would not be pleased with the news. Still, he had not broken contract. His assignment was purely to keep the subject on the grounds. Whether the man was alive or dead was immaterial.
“Dismissed,” Williams muttered, stooping to pull the earpiece from his former partner’s corpse. He watched with interest as the color drained from Miller's face, his skin rapidly becoming pallid. The curiosities of this universe never seemed to end. As the man’s corpse began to shrink before him, he allowed himself a moment to admire his reflection in his now-deceased partner’s shades. It was a full second before he noticed the pair of red irises burning in the darkness behind him.
No…
A beat.
Before the agent’s expert digits could find their way back to the butt of his .50 caliber, Williams felt pain rampage through his gut. He turned his head slowly downward, glimpsing the business end of a coal black machete painted with his own dark red ichor. Desperation spurred his hand to grip the pistol, quickly tugging it free of its holster. The gun hung in the Agent’s grip for a mere second before clattering to the ground an instant later, the pale Prime wrenching his blade upward and through the agent’s chest.
Vincent heaved uneven breaths, a crimson aura cloaking his form. Blood oozed from the bulletholes that dotted his upper back as he inhaled, the plasma staining his coat a similar hue. Thankfully, though his attacker’s aim was true, the suited man’s bullets were unable to puncture any vital organs; they instead had nestled between the sinews in his back and shoulder, affording the raven-haired man a reminder to avoid such incidents in the future. His thoughts were hazy, fury only barely prevailing over the confusion and grogginess with which he had recently awoken.
Presently the Turk’s rage began to ebb as he allowed Chaos’ influence to slip away, the aura slowly fading to nothingness. His hands shook as he began to methodically wipe the blood from his gunblade, smearing yet more blood onto the labcoat. Under normal circumstances he would take the time to investigate the computer further, perhap even care for his wounds. He doubted however that he would be alone for much longer. The well-dressed gunman had muttered some variety of message just moments earlier to the communication device that dangled from his ear and Vincent was not keen on awaiting the recipient of said message. Finally catching his breath, the Prime kneeled down and tugged the device from his attacker’s ear, depositing it into one of the large pockets on the front of his labcoat. Chimerical weapon in hand, the ex-Turk quickly left the duo of desiccating agents behind.
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