14 // audio // HAHAHAHADRUGSHAHAHA
[ Alex has tried and failed to find Sofia, and her room is a little more bee-filled for his trouble. His other options? Metal guy. Who knows where he lives? Sinclair. Armed. He'll be on his guard. No good, no good, where does he go
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Alex is stationed at one of the hallway communicators on the tenth floor, and he's looking distinctly worse for wear. Weird ropey, tumory shapes are starting to show under skin that's mottled with the colours of bile and bruises. And there are sores and blisters all over him, not to mention many slightly-bloodied holes in his clothes where the ice shards punched out.
He's still chatting away with his good buddy J, but he's twitchy as hell, clicking his fingers, rubbing his arms, glancing about. ]
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Kneeling, he starts pulling out clips, making sure they've been fully loaded. Replacing them, he pulls out three large grenades, loading them into the grenade launcher beside him. He leans over again, taking careful aim... and shoots the two proximity mines near Alex, and the third frag grenade at the door beside him.
Might as well have the element of surprise.]
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He spots the studded, yellow-lit shape, and then thnk goes another and he realises this is really not a good sign and he blurs on the air as a deafening explosion takes out the door.
He can feel the air heating behind him. But Alex is already through a different doorway and crashing into the far wall of an unoccupied room. He stays there for several seconds, just rasping in breath and making noises of panic. Then he manages to turn around, towards the room's door, shaking the icicles out of his hands so that he can defend himself. ]
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[Yeah, he saw where you went, and he's right behind you, running. He pauses on the outside of the door on a hunch and icicles blast past him into the wall before disappearing in little puffs of snow, just like always. The snow is gone before it hits the ground.
Lowering himself, he glances into the room, machine gun at the ready.]
This is for your own good, really.
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I'll kill you, I'll fucking kill you!
[ HAVE MORE ICE, and an Alex who pulls open the nearby bathroom door and uses it as cover. ]
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[Shifting his position, he slips into the room, taking cover behind a chair. Have a few more grenades your way.]
Funny thing is, I went into my death on my own two feet, the way I wanted to. In a manner'a speakin', but even so.
Somehow, I don't think someone who doesn't even know the scope'a his own goddamn Plasmids is goin' t'be much of a challenge.
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kneeling on the tiles, and his arm and his leg hurt so, so much, and his hands on the floor are in a puddle, a warm, red puddle, and there's a long animal howl of pain coming from him and
the shower, the room has a shower, he can get to the shower and turn the water on and get better and kill this bastard -
So while Sinclair's talking, Alex is crawling painfully towards the shower cubicle, and his hands have gone from icicles to flames. Winter Blast doesn't hurt you; he knows, he's been subject to it. And he wants to hurt Sinclair. ]
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[He eyes the flames, raising an eyebrow.] Any last words, son?
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- is going to die.
Shitshitshit what can he use, there has to be something he can use something to escape something to buy time something to fucking tear him apart he wants to fucking tear him apart -
There's a gun at his back, a tearing pain, and he's starting to sway and shake from the rapid blood loss. He can't move. His fight or flight instinct has finally changed its mind and is telling him to run, and he can't.
Something occurs to him, a thought that's more coherent than the rest, one that drifts from a part of him that's been otherwise salted and burned. All these plasmids in his body, and he's still fucking helpless. ]
They al always come back.
[ It's quiet at first, then gradually louder, tight-throated, insistent, terrified. ]
They always come back. They always come back. They always come back. They always come back. They always...
[ And he just keeps chanting it, chanting it rather than thinking, chanting it rather than imagining the bullets tearing ( ... )
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[The dark mutter is just that, and then Sinclair pulls the trigger, wincing slightly as the blood streaks up and out. He makes sure to empty a solid clip into him, just in case any of his Plasmids feel like acting up.
After a moment, he nudges the body with the toe of his shoe, raising an eyebrow.]
Life's tough, kid, when you start splicin' n'all. [Shrugging, he goes back and picks up his grenade launcher, shrugging it on his shoulder.] 'Course, it gets tougher when you take t'Hypnotizin' me. Wouldn't have minded lettin' you waste away in your own body 'til it just fell apart, but, see...
[He grins to himself as he walks down the hall.] I've got one hell of a vengeful streak, sometimes.
[Turning the corner, he murmurs:] Nightynight. [and lights up a cigarette.]
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Seeing what caused the noise convinced him that retreating back inside was the best course of action.
He waited. He listened.
When the noise is over he investigates. Finds the body. Returns to his lab. Fetches a scalpel, a bone saw and a container.
No harm done, right? The strangely even square of skin missing on Alex's arm will heal quickly, along with the rest of his wounds. And the air-headed feeling?
It will pass once his brain has regenerated and returned to his body... which the narration is well over 80% sure is going to happen at some point. ]
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