Liberty or Possessions Chapter 9 The Warning
Liberty or Possessions Chapter 9
The Warning
Chapter 9 Song by the Amazing MasterPenguin: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FTd7DCE-eSs
Warnings: Violence, Gore, Torture (Physical and Psychological), Language, Blood Disease Transference, Drug Use
It was only a couple hours to twilight when Oliver and Mikkel escaped from the building Oliver had been held in. The younger man had expected it to be some warehouse in the middle of nowhere, some heavily guarded fortress where evil deeds took place, but that had not been the case. It was a skyscraper, or as close to one as one in Stockholm would be. It was twenty some stories tall with windows, but most where on the ground floor where the lobby would be, not higher where Oliver had been held. They had exited what appeared to be a side door for the building, one that was made of heavy metal and shut audibly behind them. They paused and Mikkel set to work on removing the chip from Oliver's hand as the younger man looked around. It hurt like hell as Mikkel used his uninjured hand to tear off Oliver's bandage and fish the chip out, so Oliver observed their surroundings in order to distance himself from it. Though Oliver grimaced and hissed through his teeth, he recognized the pain as a necessary evil, and tried his hardest to keep looking away. Oliver had no time for sightseeing, however, since a second after discarding the chip on the ground, Mikkel grabbed Oliver's arm and pulled him along.
"Don't fucking stop for anything," He growled quietly, and Oliver understood. He walked as fast as Mikkel, just shy of a jog as to not draw attention, but quick enough to get away from the building where, no doubt, more soldiers would be responding soon. Mikkel continued leading, dodging between buildings as he moved down narrow streets. The roads were in remarkably better condition than those Oliver had seen in the other section, so he figured that this was the richer area that Maria had told him about. Thoughts of Maria surfaced again, and Oliver needed to know. He assessed the situation for just a second before his impatience won out over his common sense.
"Is Maria okay?" He asked with no preamble, but did not get a reply. He waited minutes before he tried again, catching Mikkel's shoulder as they approached a wider street, pulling him back into the tight space to ask once more. "Mikkel, is Maria okay?" Mikkel's eyes told him what he needed to know before the older man could even speak.
"She's dead, Oliver. Does that make you feel better? They're all dead except for me and I'm saving your sorry ass as a favor to her." He had turned on Oliver again, grabbing his shoulders in both hands to slam him back against the wall of a building. He held Oliver there for several seconds, strength far greater than his physical presence really inferred. "I told you to not do this, Oliver. I told you to shut up and follow. Don't you dare make me regret my promise to her." Oliver did not know what the woman had said to Mikkel to make him not want to kill him on the spot, but he thanked her silently for it. Oliver had not had much time with this Mikkel, but he had saved him, and for that Oliver knew that he was not a bad guy. Sure, he seemed to have some connection to the Berserkers, some ability that could make them with his blood, but that did not make him inherently bad. The Government had obviously done something to him to cause that, and Mikkel should not have been blamed for it. Swallowing hard, though not out of fear, Oliver nodded. He would follow with no more incidents, just as Mikkel had asked.
The first thought in Mikkel's mind was not about finding a safe place for Oliver, though. Oliver was merely an after thought, just a nagging realization at the corner of his consciousness. Most of his willpower was spent beating back the rage that threatened to infect him with every second, that which came on without any reason only to fold back when Mikkel realized it was there and worked to make it yield. It would have its moment, Mikkel knew, but not while surrounded by civilians, regardless of how corrupt, and especially not when Oliver would be the first it lashed out at.
Mikkel needed drugs, and though the rich definitely had a way of getting them, Mikkel did not exactly know how that was. The only time he ventured to this section, the one heavily controlled by the Government and her supporters, was when he had a mission. Usually he would stock up before from a supplier he knew. Usually he would only find a new one in the outer sections where there was little chance of him being spotted or remembered. Never had he had to get any from those that charged as much as the rich had.
Most of the alleyways were deserted as they moved about the city. Every once in awhile they would come across people, but they were never alone. At one juncture Mikkel and Oliver came upon a man that had a woman against the wall, kissing her neck and breasts, her skirt hiked up to her waist. She was obviously a prostitute, and he was obviously a john, but they did not pause in their activity as Mikkel and Oliver passed them. That was until Mikkel turned around and charged right at them.
He grabbed the man and before he got whatever indignant remark he meant to say out, Mikkel tossed him heavily to the ground and grabbed the woman by the throat, just as he had Oliver. He held her against the wall with such strength that at first she choked and gagged. She was scared, obviously, but she had been abused before and took a swing at Mikkel in retaliation. He deflected the blow easily and pinned her hand against the wall as well.
"Where's the nearest dealer?" He asked in a snarl, and Oliver approached to pull him off, but thought better of it. Mikkel was out of his mind, and unless he got what he wanted, he would be too far-gone to be reasoned with. He had not killed Oliver, so the younger man could only hope he would not kill the woman either.
"I ain't a fuckin' junkie!" She snarled back in a choked tone. Mikkel was barely letting her breathe and it became obvious as he neck grew red from the restricted blood flow.
"Get the fuck off her, this is my time!" The man shouted once he had gotten over his shock and regained his stance. He swung at Mikkel, a bad idea that he realized too late because Mikkel let go of the woman's hand in order to grab the man's, basically crushing his wrist in the process. The man howled and twisted, attempting to get Mikkel to release him, but Mikkel was too strong, too fast, and too ruthless. He kept his hold and increased it, forcing a desperate squeak from the woman as she clawed at Mikkel's hand. Her nail's found purchase, drawing bloody lines on Mikkel's skin that Oliver realized only too late would happen. She had infected herself with his blood in her desperate need to escape. She would be a Berserker within minutes, and she had no idea. Realizing her as a lost cause, Oliver moved quickly to restrain the man who was about to take another swing at Mikkel, this time at his face, with his free hand. He would have drawn blood as well and be in the same boat as the prostitute, but Oliver managed to intercept him and pull him backward.
Mikkel's grip slowly fell from both of them and the woman slid to the ground, coughing as she fought to draw in air. The man struggled in Oliver's hold, but could not escape, and so the threat was eliminated. Slowly Mikkel's eyes turned to the woman. She rubbed furiously at her neck, the fear finally showing on her features.
"She doesn't know, Mikkel," Oliver said desperately, hoping that once the older man realized that that he would not infect her. That he would let her live. What he did not know was that there was no control over it. Once the blood was on someone, it would only be a matter of time until they became what Mikkel was.
"She won’t know anything in a minute." Mikkel responded flatly, turning to look at the man. Only then did he get a good look at him and realized that his attack had not been in vain. The man's left eye was black, save for the iris, and Mikkel knew that he knew where a dealer in that section was. Approaching quickly, the man still struggling in Oliver's hold as if he could actually fight Mikkel, the older man grabbed the john by the chin, forcing him still.
"Do you know what's going to happen to her?" He asked the john. The prostitute had already become still, her body growing lethargic and breath labored as the unending and maddening pain began to take hold. "In about thirty seconds that woman is going to be a Berserker and she's going to really want to fuck up your day." She had begun gasping for breath, one that never needed to come again once the transformation finished. It added a sweet emphasis to Mikkel's words as he spoke simply and methodically to the man.
"I'll let her not rip your heart out, I'll let you go home, but first, you're going to take me to your fucking dealer and you're going to buy me the Opal I need." The man obviously did not believe Mikkel, not that he could be blamed for that. Mikkel had crushed her throat, and there could have been a very real chance that he had broken her windpipe, but then she stood and stared. Her eyes fixed directly on the man and yet she did not move, save for the light sway in her body as her equilibrium fought to keep up with her. Only then, with the dead-eyed stare turned on him, did the man believe Mikkel.
"Oh shit," He began, repeating it several times. "Fine! Fine, I'll take you to her! Jesus fucking…" He started, but Mikkel had taken a step back and pulled his pistol from the holster on his hip. Oliver slowly got the idea that the man would not be a problem any more, so he let go, and the john's hands immediately went into the air in the universal sign of surrender. Mikkel did not externally express his annoyance with the man, but his eyes did darken for a fleeting moment.
"Put your fucking hands down," Mikkel instructed him, and the man's hands shot down to his sides, and his babbling immediately ceased. Slowly Mikkel turned his head to look at the female Berserker that stood behind him. It only took a fraction of a second before she ran off the way Mikkel and Oliver had come, leaving just the three men standing in the narrow junction.
"What did you…?" Oliver began slowly as Mikkel moved the man in front and shoved him to get him going. Once again, Oliver brought up the rear and glanced over his shoulder to make sure the woman did not turn back around to infect him.
"Told her to double back, make sure we're not being followed. Told her the entire route, and if she came upon any Government soldiers to make their day really suck." Oliver wanted to smile at that, but he knew what it meant. She would infect any soldiers she came upon, at the expense of her own life, or what was left of it. Granted, Oliver understood, she was already practically dead, but that still did not mean Mikkel had any right to take the reset of her life away from her.
"I don't really understand. I mean… how?" Mikkel was still not exactly in the mood for question and answer time, but with the promise of a dealer and a full supply of Opal, he figured there was a chance he could humor Oliver.
"Pretty dense of you to think I understand," He commented back as they moved, the john leading the way. He glanced back and saw a heavy frown on Oliver's lips regarding the response. He sighed, more of a snarl really, and fought for anything to satisfy Oliver's seemingly unending need to understand. "Look, I don't really know much. The Berserkers have always been this anomaly, something the Government made with all the drugs. People aren't all wired the same way and the Government's one-size-fits-all way of keeping people under their control doesn't always work." He spoke quietly and in Swedish, and the man appeared to not understand what he was saying, but glanced back regardless. He was looking for a chance to make a break for it, but though Mikkel spoke to Oliver, his attention never strayed from the man who led him toward the only piece of solace he knew.
"But what are you? How can you control them?"
"I have no idea," Mikkel replied shortly. "What they did to me back then… I don't remember much. They're like just pictures in a book; just snapshots of what happened. All I remember is after escaping just needing Opal. Tried to go cold turkey, tried to just not have anything in my system, but after a few hours I was ready to kill anyone and everyone. So I got some, just a little, but over time that little turned into more and more." Oliver watched Mikkel’s back, and saw the sweat clinging to his skin. It was not blood like the men in the building had had poking from their pores, but Oliver did not doubt that eventually Mikkel would be the same way. Then, he wondered, who would keep the monsters from attacking him?
"So, the Opal does it to you? Makes it worse?" Oliver asked carefully. He did not want Mikkel worse, but wanted him better. Though this Mikkel was generally an asshole, was violent and infected people without cause, he was still Oliver's best friend, and a desire to preserve him rose above any other emotion.
"No," Mikkel responded curtly, trying to make Oliver understand. "Look, I've been shot, cut, bled all over the fucking place, but this has never happened before, that I can remember, but I know it has. Right now I feel things… Like something that had been long hidden from me is right under the surface, clawing for me to remember, Oliver." He trailed off, so Oliver took over.
"Would remembering be so bad?" Mikkel grabbed the john's shoulder, stopping him in his tracks, but kept the gun leveled at the man's head. He turned to look at Oliver, a grimace on his features that Oliver had never seen before. It bordered on sad, and Oliver's heart ached.
"There are some things, Oliver, that are best forgotten. I have a feeling that whatever this is was forgotten for a reason." Mikkel was not a sentimental guy, but he knew, as soon as he spoke the words, that it had been the truth. Whatever the lack of Opal pushed to the surface was not something that he needed to know. It was something best left to the dark recesses of his mind, hidden even from him.
Oliver asked nothing else, just nodded in seeming understanding. He still did not fully understand, unsure how the chemicals would alter someone into being a walking biohazard bomb, unable to distinguish friend from foe. He still did not understand how Mikkel could control the Berserkers or what even that meant. He did not understand how Sinclair would not have known of Mikkel's power and how he had not tapped into it to make the Berserkers his slaves yet, but that could all wait. If Mikkel said that he needed the Opal in order to not rip Oliver's organs out through his mouth, Oliver figured it would be best to just go along with it until he got the drugs. With a heavy swallow, Oliver nodded to show that he was done and ready to keep moving. Mikkel gave him one last look, one that lingered as if expecting Oliver to come up with another dumb question, but none came. He shoved the man, and they set off once more.
It neared fifteen minutes before they finally got to a small shop tucked between two buildings. It looked simple, almost like a tourist shop, Oliver realized, complete with a sign that read ‘Be back in fifteen minutes’. Mikkel gave the man a stern look and he broke easily.
"Look, man, this is really it, I swear! We run things a bit classier up here so the Government isn't busting down doors. She's got what you're looking for!" Mikkel did not necessarily believe him, so he forced the john to lead them in. Despite the sign, the door was open. They marched in with no preamble, Oliver shutting the door behind them on Mikkel's order. A woman in her mid thirties came from the back when the bell for the door chimed.
"What, you idiots can't fucking read?" She asked audaciously as she pulled an Opal syringe from her arm. It took only a moment for her to see the scene in front of her and deploy the correct emotion of confused and become on alert. "Woah, woah, what's this shit going on in my shop?" She demanded, vial discarded and hands slamming on the counter.
"I need your Opal," Mikkel said, curtly, gun still held to the man's head.
"No! Oh fuck no! You do not get to drag one of my clients in here and demand anything of me you fucking thugs!" The woman shouted, reaching for a button that sat right on the counter. There was no secret to the alarm, laid right out so anyone could see it and know that the Government protected her. "What you're going to do is let him go and get the fuck out of my store, or this place will be swarming with soldiers within three minutes, do you hear me?" Oliver shifted, looking between the woman and Mikkel. They were in enough hot water as it was Oliver rationalized. There already had to be soldiers looking for them, and if they were directed right to where they were standing, then they would easily be captured again, or even killed.
Mikkel obviously did not feel the same way because after another stern look at the woman he pulled the trigger and blew a hole through the man's head. The bullet smacked into the far wall, breaking a vase as it entered. The john fell dead instantly, head turned to show the exit wound through his forehead and the desperate look on his face. The woman shrieked, obviously not foreseeing Mikkel's decision, and before she could press the button, Mikkel's gun turned on her.
"I respect your job," He started slowly, and Oliver could see the tiny pinpricks of blood on the back of his neck. He was getting worse and fast, but he did everything in his power to restrain it. "But I need the fucking Opal. Now either you get it for me, or I blow your head open too and take it. Which do you want?" The agreement was easy, but there seemed to be a wrench in the plan.
"I have them in the back," She told Mikkel slowly, cautiously.
"No, you have them under the fucking counter," He told her, hand visibly shaking as it tightened on the grip of the gun. "I'm really not someone you want to fuck with, so reach down, grab me whatever you have in there, put it in that fucking bag, and we'll be gone." She did not react right away, but after a quick survey of her options she began to obey. She leaned down, grabbed a case, and raised it to the counter. Slowly she began relocating the vials to the backpack Mikkel had indicated, and the older man grit his teeth at the snail's pace she deployed.
"You can maybe move a bit fucking faster," He told her, and she set him with another narrowed glare.
"You gonna shoot me if I do?" She asked back in a snarky and clipped tone.
"Not going to shoot you at all if you just fucking listen to me," Mikkel responded back, and that seemed to be that. She hastened her speed, shoving the vials in by the handful until the case was empty. She reached for the bag and handed it over with the sour expression still on her face. Mikkel grabbed it and shoved it into Oliver's hands. Without being told Oliver zipped up the bag and slung it over his shoulder. He understood that Mikkel needed it, and though still opposed to the drug, he knew it would be his job to keep it safe.
"Whatever you find on his body is your payment," Mikkel told her, gesturing for Oliver to get outside and backing out after him. The woman continued to glare at the men, obviously displeased over the robbery of her goods, but unable to do anything about it with the gun still pointed at her. Once the door was shut, however, she jumped into motion, slamming her hand down on the button before she rushed into the back room and bolted the door shut.
Mikkel knew what she had done without even witnessing it. There was no other course of action, as far as he could tell. The Government supported her business, and he had disrupted that. She wanted vengeance, and the best way to go about getting it would have been to summon up the soldiers. What she did not know, however, was that they would be predisposed cleansing the building that Oliver had been kept in.
"What now?" Oliver ventured to ask as Mikkel holstered his sidearm and began moving with an authoritative pace down the side streets.
"Now we get into a crowd and we disappear," Mikkel told him. He needed to shoot up, Mikkel knew that, but he also needed to not get caught as he did so. One vial would never have done the trick with how far off the drug he had become. He needed time to fix himself, and though his palms grew slick with blood he knew stopping then would not be in the interest of his self-preservation.
"But Mikkel!" Oliver called after him. "Mikkel, you're… you're bleeding all…"
"I fucking know," Mikkel responded hoarsely. The pain was coming on strongly, almost more than he could bear as he walked right out into the middle of an avenue without hesitation. It was busy, people walking everywhere, and Oliver stutter stepped at the edge, not sure if he should go after the older man or not. It seemed reckless, if not bordering on suicidal, to storm out onto streets like Mikkel had done. However, once out there, there was no attention on either man. People were moving quickly, some running, others struggling under the weight of carried items to keep up, but they were all headed the same direction, which seemed highly strange, even to Oliver.
Mikkel heard them before he saw them. It was not exactly hearing, though. There were voices, every language all at once that echoed around his mind and he knew for certain that it was not the Berserker in him that did it. The voices did not hurt; instead they seemed to remove the pain as Mikkel moved quickly toward where everyone on the street converged. He could faintly hear Oliver through the noise, calling after him, keeping up although reluctantly. Mikkel turned, snatched the bag off of Oliver's shoulder, unzipped it, and drove his hand into it. He found a vial easily, uncapping the needle and readying the plunger. He needed the drug in him, he needed to beat back the rage before it surfaced again, but as he rounded a corner and saw around a tall building, all need for everything stopped.
A large crowd had gathered, thousands of people, and they all stared at the sky where the smog had parted and through it descended a large, teal hand. It was generally translucent, just a mirage in the heat, but one that everyone saw, and everyone heard.
Mikkel had heard stories of the Presence. He had heard accounts, but tinfoil hats always accompanied them. There were always ways to discredit them. Most claimed to have seen the Presence while high on Opal, but Mikkel stood there on the street stone cold sober, and dying because of it, and yet he still saw them, still heard them, and they spoke loudly in his head.
"Humanity," They spoke in every language at the same time, and no one could look away. "This will be the last warning you will receive for your mistakes." There was no tone to what the Presence spoke, but Mikkel knew they were angry, disgusted even. Every word was spoken in monotone and yet Mikkel knew what they meant, and that hurt worse than the Berserker rage that they had momentarily alleviated.
"You have become a virus, one that has attacked this host, and we have heard it cry out for help. We arrived just in time, it seems, to tell you about your final chance." Mikkel had never received a message from the Presence before, and he managed to drag his eyes away for just a fraction of a second. Everyone he saw held the same slack jawed expression, as if in silent screams of terror. They were simply struck mute as their brains, much like Mikkel's own, struggled to comprehend what he saw and heard. Some cried soundlessly, some had fallen to their knees, but none had any ability to break away. It made no sense, none at all, but Mikkel could only listen.
"We have watched you all for a long time," The Presence told them. "Who you are and what you would do to get what you want. You would kill each other, torture each other, and poison each other. You do the same to her, and for that you have come to our attention." Mikkel knew whom the ‘her’ they referred to was, but he figured it was the Presence that implemented that knowledge to him. It was the Earth that they spoke of; the one that they communally abused and raped for centuries. She was dying, and the Presence was there to save her, even if that meant wiping out humanity.
"You were given a chance to thrive here," The voices continued in the monotone harmony of languages, "And your greed and arrogance will leave you without that gift. If you do not change your ways and make amends with her, then we shall wipe this world clean. This, humanity, will be your final warning."
As the last syllable of the last language died out in Mikkel's mind, the giant teal hand faded from existence just like a mirage, and Mikkel knew exactly why it had been discredited by so many. Even after all he had seen and heard from them, Mikkel was still unsure if it had happened at all. Suddenly he was himself again, full of pain and rage, and with the weight of the vial in his hand. Mikkel jammed it into his arm and injected himself, following up seconds later with another. The crowd began coming to life around him, and Mikkel realized they were very unsafe.
Spinning around, Mikkel located Oliver. His palms were still slick with blood from where it pushed out of his pores, so he did not risk touching him. Instead he called to him and Oliver snapped out of his own trance. He looked at Mikkel and he knew to follow without question. So they moved quickly, running away from the crowd and back up the street the way they had come.
No one stood dazed and awed ahead of them as they ran back down the alley and toward the shop where Mikkel had gotten the Opal. Again the door was unlocked, but unlike before there was no woman inside. Mikkel figured she had been called out like the rest, so that only gave them so much time before she would return. He set to work immediately, grabbing more vials from the bag and, readying them one by one, he injected himself full of the Opal.
The Presence had left them both shaken, but the Opal slowly calmed Mikkel, an old and familiar sting just under his skin. However it was not the almost immediate bliss he usually felt. It took time, minutes stretching on as Mikkel sat on the floor, eyes clenched tight as he tried very hard not to think and to just let the drug work. However, after what happened, after the translucent hand had reached down and threatened them all, finding any solace at all seemed impossible.
"Mikkel?" Oliver's voice came quietly after a long expanse of time. At first Mikkel did not stir, but then, thinking better of keeping Oliver in silence, he cracked open an eye and glanced at the boy. Oliver looked pale in the failing light of dusk, but the shadows masked most of it. Still, nothing could hide Oliver's wide, scared eyes as he watched Mikkel. He was obviously still frightened over everything that had happened that day. Mikkel did not exactly want to field questions, but finally, with the Opal starting to take control of him again, Mikkel thought he could at least put the boy's mind at ease.
"What is it, Oliver," he groaned lightly, eyes shutting again.
"I… Well, are you okay?" Mikkel knew that that was not what Oliver had wanted to ask, but it was considerate of him, if not a little annoying.
"I'll be fine," Mikkel grunted out, shifting to run his palm down his face before he thought about it and paused to look at his hand. There was still his own blood on it, smeared lines from the contact, but it had ceased bubbling through his skin at some point, which was a plus. "Take some, it'll calm you down." Mikkel shifted to kick the bag of Opal toward Oliver. Neither man moved after that for a few seconds until Oliver extended his leg to kick it back toward Mikkel.
"No thank you. You need it." It was true, but what Oliver did not realize was that his decision to not take any of the drugs was more important than his polite refusal. No one refused free Opal. Everyone on the planet under America's rule, as far as Mikkel knew, was all hooked on it. Sure, most functioned well without it, just the little nagging feeling every few weeks that they should probably stop by the clinic and get some medicine. However others, like Mikkel, constantly craved the drug. To even offer it up was a big deal, one that Mikkel physically ached while doing, but Oliver turning it down meant that he had not felt the sting of Opal before.
Mikkel watched Oliver for several seconds before he retracted the offer and returned the bag to his side. He grabbed out another vial, injecting himself once more, bringing the total amount up to somewhere around ten. He had not counted and had no interest in doing so. Instead he sat back against the counter and closed his eyes once more. He had withdrawn so far into himself that he had not heard Oliver get to his feet nor walk across the floor. The first sound that had cut through his meditation was the door moving. His eyes shot open, his hand darting quickly to his gun, but he paused once he saw Oliver standing there. The younger man flipped the locks on the door shut and then drew the shades to block any prying eyes.
When Oliver turned around and saw Mikkel looking at him, he seemed surprised. Mikkel's own look transformed to confused at that, just slowly regarding Oliver as the younger man returned, sitting a few feet away once more.
"We're not staying long," Mikkel told him, which drew a soft smile from Oliver. It was still guarded, as well as it should have been, Mikkel figured. He had itched to kill Oliver ever since he had known who Mikkel was, and it really did seem pretty improbable that he had suddenly changed his mind. However, Mikkel had indeed changed his mind. Enough stuff had happened in the few days since Oliver had come into his life to allow some switching of sides, Mikkel reasoned.
"Think we are," Oliver said, a bit of playful defiance in his tone that Mikkel did not share nor follow. Oliver had just found out that Mikkel was infected with the Berserker disease, and they had just witnessed the Presence come down from the sky and tell them all that they would be removed from the universe. There seemed to be very little to smile about, and yet Oliver did. "You've been asleep." Oliver finally told him, drawing more confusion from Mikkel. There was no way that he would have slept. He chose when to sleep and he never would have done so while hiding out in a store that could have been surrounded by soldiers at any moment. They were not far from where Oliver had been held, and despite everything else, that would have given him good reason not to nod off. Oliver, though, seemed sure he had been asleep even though Mikkel knew it could not have been true.
"Wasn't asleep," Mikkel said defiantly, rubbing at his arm where the injection points began to ache. It was a good sign that Mikkel was beginning to feel his skin again, and not just the internalized burning pain. He was coming back to being human, but there was no telling how long it would take to stop his blood from being infectious. There were not exactly living Berserker specimens that there could have been studies done on.
"So you snore while resting?" Oliver said, far too jovial, bordering on playfully annoying. Mikkel frowned, so Oliver pushed on, grin widening to an actual smile as Mikkel’s frustration showed. "Bet that would have been annoying as hell to everyone! You just sitting there, reading a book, snoring away." Mikkel did not feel as excited as Oliver obviously did, but there was something about the younger man's tone that rubbed on him just a little. Mikkel twisted a bit to reach his leg out and kick Oliver. The younger man pulled his long legs up to his chest and jumped up, purposefully staying out of Mikkel's range as he moved around him, past the counter, and into the room behind it. With Oliver out of sight, Mikkel pondered more about the situation.
Everyone out on that street had seen the Presence. That actually could have been a good thing for them since the anxiety something like that would cause in the general populous would keep the Government busy. There would have been too many reports, too much distress, for them to launch a manhunt, and civilians would have been too busy losing their minds to notice some wanted men walking in their midst. It would be a perfect time to get out there and get away, but Mikkel had no idea if he was safe to be around people yet. He did not need to accidentally infect more people, especially given his new found motto of wanting no more civilians to die for the Government's transgressions. Mikkel was only brought back to the moment when Oliver reentered the room. He opened his eyes once more and regarded the younger man, frowning heavily at the towels Oliver carried.
"What…" He began, letting himself trail off as he got a soft smile from Oliver in return.
"Not suggesting you look in a mirror, but you really can't go out there looking like that. People are going to think you killed someone, and that won’t really help us keep a low profile." Mikkel looked down at his hands where the blood had dried in streaks. He could not imagine that the rest of him looked any better. Oliver extended a wet cloth to Mikkel, and the older man washed up, double washing places Oliver pointed out to him. He then dried, and only then did Oliver draw his attention to the poorly bandaged slice on his hand and the wounds the prostitute had inflicted. Mikkel stared at them for several seconds, letting the memories wash over him. He had killed countless soldiers with just that one cut, and Mikkel actually felt a bit of guilt at that. He had a feeling that it had to do with what the Presence had said, that they had all turned into the disease that would kill anything and anyone in their way in order to get what they wanted, and the weight of culpability felt worse than the pain had. He wished there was a drug in the world that would make him not feel remorse for all the bad choices he had made, but Mikkel knew that there was not. There were only the walls he had built over years that he would have to begin repairing soon.
"I can do it," Oliver offered quietly, shifting to open the first aid kit he had held under the towels. Mikkel slowly shook his head and removed the bandage from his hand, reaching to take the kit that Oliver did not exactly offer up. When Mikkel saw that they were at an impasse, he frowned heavily up at the younger man.
"I could still be infectious, Oliver. Just give me the med kit." Still Oliver stalled; looking over at the dead man that Mikkel had shot earlier. He had stopped bleeding out and lay in a pool of his own blood. The body had obviously been disturbed, shifted from where it had fallen originally. There was no doubt that the owner had taken Mikkel's payment and had removed herself from the location in the time that they had been gone. It had been for the better.
"And what do you think touching him is going to do?" Mikkel asked with a bit of a short temper that felt like entirely his own fault. He still was not entirely ready to deal with Oliver, but since they were momentarily safe, Oliver seemed to think it would be a good time to begin dialog between them.
"Well, won’t it… I dunno, bring him back to life or something? Make him one of those Berserkers?" Mikkel tried not to look exasperated as he motioned for the kit once again, and suffered through Oliver's ignorance. He did not get the kit or Oliver's sudden and unexplainable understanding, so he settled with just answering the question.
"It's not a zombie disease, Oliver." Mikkel told him in a clipped tone that he knew was unfair. "The dead are dead, no matter what you pump them with. This… disease, it just makes them want to kill. It sets people on fire inside, and they just want others to hurt too. There's no way a corpse could feel that." Oliver frowned then, deeper than Mikkel's had been. It was obvious by the look on his face that he was still trying to piece things together, see the bigger picture that was still hidden from him. Though the information had managed to fit with the other things Oliver had learned, there was still no overarching picture revealed to him yet. Seemingly resigned, Oliver approached with the kit. Mikkel reached for it, but as he did Oliver reached as well. He grabbed Mikkel's hand hard, not letting the older man pull from his grip as their palms were forced together. Mikkel used his other hand to grab Oliver's wrist, disengaging the hold that the younger man had on him.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Mikkel nearly shouted, and Oliver looked at his hand where Mikkel's blood was smeared across it. If Maria's mission for Mikkel really came to an end because the stupid kid he had been asked to protect was dumb enough to infect himself with the Berserker virus, Mikkel was going to be pissed.
"You can't tell by touching a dead body, and you can't tell by not touching anyone, so I'm volunteering, Mikkel. I'm in this as thick as you, so why chance infecting innocent people when I'm willing to take it?" It was entirely beside the point, but Mikkel did not need to tell the younger man that. Instead he roughly snatched the medical kit from Oliver's hand and set about cleaning and properly bandaging his own wounds. The only thing they could do at that point was wait and see what the blood did to Oliver.
"Could have just waited until I stopped bleeding, Oliver," Mikkel growled back, re-bandaging his cuts. He then grabbed Oliver's wrist again and forced the younger man to sit in front of him. Deftly he began to bandage Oliver's hand where the chip had been inserted and subsequently removed. If Oliver contracted the disease, and it was uncontrollable like those in the lab, then Mikkel would have to put him down. However, if Opal kept it in check like Mikkel's, it would be better to not have an open wound anywhere on Oliver. "Take some damn Opal before that shit eats you out."
"I feel fine," Oliver commented back, rubbing Mikkel's blood off of his hand and onto one of the towels. "I don't feel any different than I did before I touched you. How long does it usually take?" Mikkel did not look up from Oliver's hand as he forced a bandage down over the cut. He still frowned, still hated Oliver's brash move, but he was thankful that the younger man seemed not to have contracted the infection.
"Usually a few minutes for the full transformation, I guess. I don't know. Maybe, because you haven't drank any water or taken any drugs, your immune system would be better at fighting it off. I have no idea how this actually works, Oliver." Instead of being put off by the answer, Oliver actually smiled. He retracted his hand and put both of them behind him, leaning back to support himself as he grinned in triumph at Mikkel. It was generally annoying how Oliver smiled brightly when he should be scared, so Mikkel set him with a hard gaze.
"Or maybe you just can't hurt me in any reality." Oliver said, a bit of defiant arrogance in his tone that made Mikkel shake his head in annoyance. Oliver laughed, grinning wider as he watched Mikkel, seeing in him pieces of the Mikkel he knew. "Maybe I just know you better than you think I do," Oliver quipped one more time, drawing a light sigh from the older man. Oliver knew nothing about him, Mikkel knew that, but if it made it easier for the younger man to deal with everything by pretending he did then it would be fine. They would need to move soon, they both knew that, but for a few more minutes they could both believe that they were safe, even from each other.
Playlist by the Amazing MasterPenguin: https://8tracks.com/masterpenguin/liberty-of-possession
Chapter 9 Song by the Amazing MasterPenguin: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FTd7DCE-eSs
Master Post: http://z4rf3.livejournal.com/16531.html
Chapter 10 God Given: http://z4rf3.livejournal.com/18966.html
The Warning
Chapter 9 Song by the Amazing MasterPenguin: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FTd7DCE-eSs
Warnings: Violence, Gore, Torture (Physical and Psychological), Language, Blood Disease Transference, Drug Use
It was only a couple hours to twilight when Oliver and Mikkel escaped from the building Oliver had been held in. The younger man had expected it to be some warehouse in the middle of nowhere, some heavily guarded fortress where evil deeds took place, but that had not been the case. It was a skyscraper, or as close to one as one in Stockholm would be. It was twenty some stories tall with windows, but most where on the ground floor where the lobby would be, not higher where Oliver had been held. They had exited what appeared to be a side door for the building, one that was made of heavy metal and shut audibly behind them. They paused and Mikkel set to work on removing the chip from Oliver's hand as the younger man looked around. It hurt like hell as Mikkel used his uninjured hand to tear off Oliver's bandage and fish the chip out, so Oliver observed their surroundings in order to distance himself from it. Though Oliver grimaced and hissed through his teeth, he recognized the pain as a necessary evil, and tried his hardest to keep looking away. Oliver had no time for sightseeing, however, since a second after discarding the chip on the ground, Mikkel grabbed Oliver's arm and pulled him along.
"Don't fucking stop for anything," He growled quietly, and Oliver understood. He walked as fast as Mikkel, just shy of a jog as to not draw attention, but quick enough to get away from the building where, no doubt, more soldiers would be responding soon. Mikkel continued leading, dodging between buildings as he moved down narrow streets. The roads were in remarkably better condition than those Oliver had seen in the other section, so he figured that this was the richer area that Maria had told him about. Thoughts of Maria surfaced again, and Oliver needed to know. He assessed the situation for just a second before his impatience won out over his common sense.
"Is Maria okay?" He asked with no preamble, but did not get a reply. He waited minutes before he tried again, catching Mikkel's shoulder as they approached a wider street, pulling him back into the tight space to ask once more. "Mikkel, is Maria okay?" Mikkel's eyes told him what he needed to know before the older man could even speak.
"She's dead, Oliver. Does that make you feel better? They're all dead except for me and I'm saving your sorry ass as a favor to her." He had turned on Oliver again, grabbing his shoulders in both hands to slam him back against the wall of a building. He held Oliver there for several seconds, strength far greater than his physical presence really inferred. "I told you to not do this, Oliver. I told you to shut up and follow. Don't you dare make me regret my promise to her." Oliver did not know what the woman had said to Mikkel to make him not want to kill him on the spot, but he thanked her silently for it. Oliver had not had much time with this Mikkel, but he had saved him, and for that Oliver knew that he was not a bad guy. Sure, he seemed to have some connection to the Berserkers, some ability that could make them with his blood, but that did not make him inherently bad. The Government had obviously done something to him to cause that, and Mikkel should not have been blamed for it. Swallowing hard, though not out of fear, Oliver nodded. He would follow with no more incidents, just as Mikkel had asked.
The first thought in Mikkel's mind was not about finding a safe place for Oliver, though. Oliver was merely an after thought, just a nagging realization at the corner of his consciousness. Most of his willpower was spent beating back the rage that threatened to infect him with every second, that which came on without any reason only to fold back when Mikkel realized it was there and worked to make it yield. It would have its moment, Mikkel knew, but not while surrounded by civilians, regardless of how corrupt, and especially not when Oliver would be the first it lashed out at.
Mikkel needed drugs, and though the rich definitely had a way of getting them, Mikkel did not exactly know how that was. The only time he ventured to this section, the one heavily controlled by the Government and her supporters, was when he had a mission. Usually he would stock up before from a supplier he knew. Usually he would only find a new one in the outer sections where there was little chance of him being spotted or remembered. Never had he had to get any from those that charged as much as the rich had.
Most of the alleyways were deserted as they moved about the city. Every once in awhile they would come across people, but they were never alone. At one juncture Mikkel and Oliver came upon a man that had a woman against the wall, kissing her neck and breasts, her skirt hiked up to her waist. She was obviously a prostitute, and he was obviously a john, but they did not pause in their activity as Mikkel and Oliver passed them. That was until Mikkel turned around and charged right at them.
He grabbed the man and before he got whatever indignant remark he meant to say out, Mikkel tossed him heavily to the ground and grabbed the woman by the throat, just as he had Oliver. He held her against the wall with such strength that at first she choked and gagged. She was scared, obviously, but she had been abused before and took a swing at Mikkel in retaliation. He deflected the blow easily and pinned her hand against the wall as well.
"Where's the nearest dealer?" He asked in a snarl, and Oliver approached to pull him off, but thought better of it. Mikkel was out of his mind, and unless he got what he wanted, he would be too far-gone to be reasoned with. He had not killed Oliver, so the younger man could only hope he would not kill the woman either.
"I ain't a fuckin' junkie!" She snarled back in a choked tone. Mikkel was barely letting her breathe and it became obvious as he neck grew red from the restricted blood flow.
"Get the fuck off her, this is my time!" The man shouted once he had gotten over his shock and regained his stance. He swung at Mikkel, a bad idea that he realized too late because Mikkel let go of the woman's hand in order to grab the man's, basically crushing his wrist in the process. The man howled and twisted, attempting to get Mikkel to release him, but Mikkel was too strong, too fast, and too ruthless. He kept his hold and increased it, forcing a desperate squeak from the woman as she clawed at Mikkel's hand. Her nail's found purchase, drawing bloody lines on Mikkel's skin that Oliver realized only too late would happen. She had infected herself with his blood in her desperate need to escape. She would be a Berserker within minutes, and she had no idea. Realizing her as a lost cause, Oliver moved quickly to restrain the man who was about to take another swing at Mikkel, this time at his face, with his free hand. He would have drawn blood as well and be in the same boat as the prostitute, but Oliver managed to intercept him and pull him backward.
Mikkel's grip slowly fell from both of them and the woman slid to the ground, coughing as she fought to draw in air. The man struggled in Oliver's hold, but could not escape, and so the threat was eliminated. Slowly Mikkel's eyes turned to the woman. She rubbed furiously at her neck, the fear finally showing on her features.
"She doesn't know, Mikkel," Oliver said desperately, hoping that once the older man realized that that he would not infect her. That he would let her live. What he did not know was that there was no control over it. Once the blood was on someone, it would only be a matter of time until they became what Mikkel was.
"She won’t know anything in a minute." Mikkel responded flatly, turning to look at the man. Only then did he get a good look at him and realized that his attack had not been in vain. The man's left eye was black, save for the iris, and Mikkel knew that he knew where a dealer in that section was. Approaching quickly, the man still struggling in Oliver's hold as if he could actually fight Mikkel, the older man grabbed the john by the chin, forcing him still.
"Do you know what's going to happen to her?" He asked the john. The prostitute had already become still, her body growing lethargic and breath labored as the unending and maddening pain began to take hold. "In about thirty seconds that woman is going to be a Berserker and she's going to really want to fuck up your day." She had begun gasping for breath, one that never needed to come again once the transformation finished. It added a sweet emphasis to Mikkel's words as he spoke simply and methodically to the man.
"I'll let her not rip your heart out, I'll let you go home, but first, you're going to take me to your fucking dealer and you're going to buy me the Opal I need." The man obviously did not believe Mikkel, not that he could be blamed for that. Mikkel had crushed her throat, and there could have been a very real chance that he had broken her windpipe, but then she stood and stared. Her eyes fixed directly on the man and yet she did not move, save for the light sway in her body as her equilibrium fought to keep up with her. Only then, with the dead-eyed stare turned on him, did the man believe Mikkel.
"Oh shit," He began, repeating it several times. "Fine! Fine, I'll take you to her! Jesus fucking…" He started, but Mikkel had taken a step back and pulled his pistol from the holster on his hip. Oliver slowly got the idea that the man would not be a problem any more, so he let go, and the john's hands immediately went into the air in the universal sign of surrender. Mikkel did not externally express his annoyance with the man, but his eyes did darken for a fleeting moment.
"Put your fucking hands down," Mikkel instructed him, and the man's hands shot down to his sides, and his babbling immediately ceased. Slowly Mikkel turned his head to look at the female Berserker that stood behind him. It only took a fraction of a second before she ran off the way Mikkel and Oliver had come, leaving just the three men standing in the narrow junction.
"What did you…?" Oliver began slowly as Mikkel moved the man in front and shoved him to get him going. Once again, Oliver brought up the rear and glanced over his shoulder to make sure the woman did not turn back around to infect him.
"Told her to double back, make sure we're not being followed. Told her the entire route, and if she came upon any Government soldiers to make their day really suck." Oliver wanted to smile at that, but he knew what it meant. She would infect any soldiers she came upon, at the expense of her own life, or what was left of it. Granted, Oliver understood, she was already practically dead, but that still did not mean Mikkel had any right to take the reset of her life away from her.
"I don't really understand. I mean… how?" Mikkel was still not exactly in the mood for question and answer time, but with the promise of a dealer and a full supply of Opal, he figured there was a chance he could humor Oliver.
"Pretty dense of you to think I understand," He commented back as they moved, the john leading the way. He glanced back and saw a heavy frown on Oliver's lips regarding the response. He sighed, more of a snarl really, and fought for anything to satisfy Oliver's seemingly unending need to understand. "Look, I don't really know much. The Berserkers have always been this anomaly, something the Government made with all the drugs. People aren't all wired the same way and the Government's one-size-fits-all way of keeping people under their control doesn't always work." He spoke quietly and in Swedish, and the man appeared to not understand what he was saying, but glanced back regardless. He was looking for a chance to make a break for it, but though Mikkel spoke to Oliver, his attention never strayed from the man who led him toward the only piece of solace he knew.
"But what are you? How can you control them?"
"I have no idea," Mikkel replied shortly. "What they did to me back then… I don't remember much. They're like just pictures in a book; just snapshots of what happened. All I remember is after escaping just needing Opal. Tried to go cold turkey, tried to just not have anything in my system, but after a few hours I was ready to kill anyone and everyone. So I got some, just a little, but over time that little turned into more and more." Oliver watched Mikkel’s back, and saw the sweat clinging to his skin. It was not blood like the men in the building had had poking from their pores, but Oliver did not doubt that eventually Mikkel would be the same way. Then, he wondered, who would keep the monsters from attacking him?
"So, the Opal does it to you? Makes it worse?" Oliver asked carefully. He did not want Mikkel worse, but wanted him better. Though this Mikkel was generally an asshole, was violent and infected people without cause, he was still Oliver's best friend, and a desire to preserve him rose above any other emotion.
"No," Mikkel responded curtly, trying to make Oliver understand. "Look, I've been shot, cut, bled all over the fucking place, but this has never happened before, that I can remember, but I know it has. Right now I feel things… Like something that had been long hidden from me is right under the surface, clawing for me to remember, Oliver." He trailed off, so Oliver took over.
"Would remembering be so bad?" Mikkel grabbed the john's shoulder, stopping him in his tracks, but kept the gun leveled at the man's head. He turned to look at Oliver, a grimace on his features that Oliver had never seen before. It bordered on sad, and Oliver's heart ached.
"There are some things, Oliver, that are best forgotten. I have a feeling that whatever this is was forgotten for a reason." Mikkel was not a sentimental guy, but he knew, as soon as he spoke the words, that it had been the truth. Whatever the lack of Opal pushed to the surface was not something that he needed to know. It was something best left to the dark recesses of his mind, hidden even from him.
Oliver asked nothing else, just nodded in seeming understanding. He still did not fully understand, unsure how the chemicals would alter someone into being a walking biohazard bomb, unable to distinguish friend from foe. He still did not understand how Mikkel could control the Berserkers or what even that meant. He did not understand how Sinclair would not have known of Mikkel's power and how he had not tapped into it to make the Berserkers his slaves yet, but that could all wait. If Mikkel said that he needed the Opal in order to not rip Oliver's organs out through his mouth, Oliver figured it would be best to just go along with it until he got the drugs. With a heavy swallow, Oliver nodded to show that he was done and ready to keep moving. Mikkel gave him one last look, one that lingered as if expecting Oliver to come up with another dumb question, but none came. He shoved the man, and they set off once more.
It neared fifteen minutes before they finally got to a small shop tucked between two buildings. It looked simple, almost like a tourist shop, Oliver realized, complete with a sign that read ‘Be back in fifteen minutes’. Mikkel gave the man a stern look and he broke easily.
"Look, man, this is really it, I swear! We run things a bit classier up here so the Government isn't busting down doors. She's got what you're looking for!" Mikkel did not necessarily believe him, so he forced the john to lead them in. Despite the sign, the door was open. They marched in with no preamble, Oliver shutting the door behind them on Mikkel's order. A woman in her mid thirties came from the back when the bell for the door chimed.
"What, you idiots can't fucking read?" She asked audaciously as she pulled an Opal syringe from her arm. It took only a moment for her to see the scene in front of her and deploy the correct emotion of confused and become on alert. "Woah, woah, what's this shit going on in my shop?" She demanded, vial discarded and hands slamming on the counter.
"I need your Opal," Mikkel said, curtly, gun still held to the man's head.
"No! Oh fuck no! You do not get to drag one of my clients in here and demand anything of me you fucking thugs!" The woman shouted, reaching for a button that sat right on the counter. There was no secret to the alarm, laid right out so anyone could see it and know that the Government protected her. "What you're going to do is let him go and get the fuck out of my store, or this place will be swarming with soldiers within three minutes, do you hear me?" Oliver shifted, looking between the woman and Mikkel. They were in enough hot water as it was Oliver rationalized. There already had to be soldiers looking for them, and if they were directed right to where they were standing, then they would easily be captured again, or even killed.
Mikkel obviously did not feel the same way because after another stern look at the woman he pulled the trigger and blew a hole through the man's head. The bullet smacked into the far wall, breaking a vase as it entered. The john fell dead instantly, head turned to show the exit wound through his forehead and the desperate look on his face. The woman shrieked, obviously not foreseeing Mikkel's decision, and before she could press the button, Mikkel's gun turned on her.
"I respect your job," He started slowly, and Oliver could see the tiny pinpricks of blood on the back of his neck. He was getting worse and fast, but he did everything in his power to restrain it. "But I need the fucking Opal. Now either you get it for me, or I blow your head open too and take it. Which do you want?" The agreement was easy, but there seemed to be a wrench in the plan.
"I have them in the back," She told Mikkel slowly, cautiously.
"No, you have them under the fucking counter," He told her, hand visibly shaking as it tightened on the grip of the gun. "I'm really not someone you want to fuck with, so reach down, grab me whatever you have in there, put it in that fucking bag, and we'll be gone." She did not react right away, but after a quick survey of her options she began to obey. She leaned down, grabbed a case, and raised it to the counter. Slowly she began relocating the vials to the backpack Mikkel had indicated, and the older man grit his teeth at the snail's pace she deployed.
"You can maybe move a bit fucking faster," He told her, and she set him with another narrowed glare.
"You gonna shoot me if I do?" She asked back in a snarky and clipped tone.
"Not going to shoot you at all if you just fucking listen to me," Mikkel responded back, and that seemed to be that. She hastened her speed, shoving the vials in by the handful until the case was empty. She reached for the bag and handed it over with the sour expression still on her face. Mikkel grabbed it and shoved it into Oliver's hands. Without being told Oliver zipped up the bag and slung it over his shoulder. He understood that Mikkel needed it, and though still opposed to the drug, he knew it would be his job to keep it safe.
"Whatever you find on his body is your payment," Mikkel told her, gesturing for Oliver to get outside and backing out after him. The woman continued to glare at the men, obviously displeased over the robbery of her goods, but unable to do anything about it with the gun still pointed at her. Once the door was shut, however, she jumped into motion, slamming her hand down on the button before she rushed into the back room and bolted the door shut.
Mikkel knew what she had done without even witnessing it. There was no other course of action, as far as he could tell. The Government supported her business, and he had disrupted that. She wanted vengeance, and the best way to go about getting it would have been to summon up the soldiers. What she did not know, however, was that they would be predisposed cleansing the building that Oliver had been kept in.
"What now?" Oliver ventured to ask as Mikkel holstered his sidearm and began moving with an authoritative pace down the side streets.
"Now we get into a crowd and we disappear," Mikkel told him. He needed to shoot up, Mikkel knew that, but he also needed to not get caught as he did so. One vial would never have done the trick with how far off the drug he had become. He needed time to fix himself, and though his palms grew slick with blood he knew stopping then would not be in the interest of his self-preservation.
"But Mikkel!" Oliver called after him. "Mikkel, you're… you're bleeding all…"
"I fucking know," Mikkel responded hoarsely. The pain was coming on strongly, almost more than he could bear as he walked right out into the middle of an avenue without hesitation. It was busy, people walking everywhere, and Oliver stutter stepped at the edge, not sure if he should go after the older man or not. It seemed reckless, if not bordering on suicidal, to storm out onto streets like Mikkel had done. However, once out there, there was no attention on either man. People were moving quickly, some running, others struggling under the weight of carried items to keep up, but they were all headed the same direction, which seemed highly strange, even to Oliver.
Mikkel heard them before he saw them. It was not exactly hearing, though. There were voices, every language all at once that echoed around his mind and he knew for certain that it was not the Berserker in him that did it. The voices did not hurt; instead they seemed to remove the pain as Mikkel moved quickly toward where everyone on the street converged. He could faintly hear Oliver through the noise, calling after him, keeping up although reluctantly. Mikkel turned, snatched the bag off of Oliver's shoulder, unzipped it, and drove his hand into it. He found a vial easily, uncapping the needle and readying the plunger. He needed the drug in him, he needed to beat back the rage before it surfaced again, but as he rounded a corner and saw around a tall building, all need for everything stopped.
A large crowd had gathered, thousands of people, and they all stared at the sky where the smog had parted and through it descended a large, teal hand. It was generally translucent, just a mirage in the heat, but one that everyone saw, and everyone heard.
Mikkel had heard stories of the Presence. He had heard accounts, but tinfoil hats always accompanied them. There were always ways to discredit them. Most claimed to have seen the Presence while high on Opal, but Mikkel stood there on the street stone cold sober, and dying because of it, and yet he still saw them, still heard them, and they spoke loudly in his head.
"Humanity," They spoke in every language at the same time, and no one could look away. "This will be the last warning you will receive for your mistakes." There was no tone to what the Presence spoke, but Mikkel knew they were angry, disgusted even. Every word was spoken in monotone and yet Mikkel knew what they meant, and that hurt worse than the Berserker rage that they had momentarily alleviated.
"You have become a virus, one that has attacked this host, and we have heard it cry out for help. We arrived just in time, it seems, to tell you about your final chance." Mikkel had never received a message from the Presence before, and he managed to drag his eyes away for just a fraction of a second. Everyone he saw held the same slack jawed expression, as if in silent screams of terror. They were simply struck mute as their brains, much like Mikkel's own, struggled to comprehend what he saw and heard. Some cried soundlessly, some had fallen to their knees, but none had any ability to break away. It made no sense, none at all, but Mikkel could only listen.
"We have watched you all for a long time," The Presence told them. "Who you are and what you would do to get what you want. You would kill each other, torture each other, and poison each other. You do the same to her, and for that you have come to our attention." Mikkel knew whom the ‘her’ they referred to was, but he figured it was the Presence that implemented that knowledge to him. It was the Earth that they spoke of; the one that they communally abused and raped for centuries. She was dying, and the Presence was there to save her, even if that meant wiping out humanity.
"You were given a chance to thrive here," The voices continued in the monotone harmony of languages, "And your greed and arrogance will leave you without that gift. If you do not change your ways and make amends with her, then we shall wipe this world clean. This, humanity, will be your final warning."
As the last syllable of the last language died out in Mikkel's mind, the giant teal hand faded from existence just like a mirage, and Mikkel knew exactly why it had been discredited by so many. Even after all he had seen and heard from them, Mikkel was still unsure if it had happened at all. Suddenly he was himself again, full of pain and rage, and with the weight of the vial in his hand. Mikkel jammed it into his arm and injected himself, following up seconds later with another. The crowd began coming to life around him, and Mikkel realized they were very unsafe.
Spinning around, Mikkel located Oliver. His palms were still slick with blood from where it pushed out of his pores, so he did not risk touching him. Instead he called to him and Oliver snapped out of his own trance. He looked at Mikkel and he knew to follow without question. So they moved quickly, running away from the crowd and back up the street the way they had come.
No one stood dazed and awed ahead of them as they ran back down the alley and toward the shop where Mikkel had gotten the Opal. Again the door was unlocked, but unlike before there was no woman inside. Mikkel figured she had been called out like the rest, so that only gave them so much time before she would return. He set to work immediately, grabbing more vials from the bag and, readying them one by one, he injected himself full of the Opal.
The Presence had left them both shaken, but the Opal slowly calmed Mikkel, an old and familiar sting just under his skin. However it was not the almost immediate bliss he usually felt. It took time, minutes stretching on as Mikkel sat on the floor, eyes clenched tight as he tried very hard not to think and to just let the drug work. However, after what happened, after the translucent hand had reached down and threatened them all, finding any solace at all seemed impossible.
"Mikkel?" Oliver's voice came quietly after a long expanse of time. At first Mikkel did not stir, but then, thinking better of keeping Oliver in silence, he cracked open an eye and glanced at the boy. Oliver looked pale in the failing light of dusk, but the shadows masked most of it. Still, nothing could hide Oliver's wide, scared eyes as he watched Mikkel. He was obviously still frightened over everything that had happened that day. Mikkel did not exactly want to field questions, but finally, with the Opal starting to take control of him again, Mikkel thought he could at least put the boy's mind at ease.
"What is it, Oliver," he groaned lightly, eyes shutting again.
"I… Well, are you okay?" Mikkel knew that that was not what Oliver had wanted to ask, but it was considerate of him, if not a little annoying.
"I'll be fine," Mikkel grunted out, shifting to run his palm down his face before he thought about it and paused to look at his hand. There was still his own blood on it, smeared lines from the contact, but it had ceased bubbling through his skin at some point, which was a plus. "Take some, it'll calm you down." Mikkel shifted to kick the bag of Opal toward Oliver. Neither man moved after that for a few seconds until Oliver extended his leg to kick it back toward Mikkel.
"No thank you. You need it." It was true, but what Oliver did not realize was that his decision to not take any of the drugs was more important than his polite refusal. No one refused free Opal. Everyone on the planet under America's rule, as far as Mikkel knew, was all hooked on it. Sure, most functioned well without it, just the little nagging feeling every few weeks that they should probably stop by the clinic and get some medicine. However others, like Mikkel, constantly craved the drug. To even offer it up was a big deal, one that Mikkel physically ached while doing, but Oliver turning it down meant that he had not felt the sting of Opal before.
Mikkel watched Oliver for several seconds before he retracted the offer and returned the bag to his side. He grabbed out another vial, injecting himself once more, bringing the total amount up to somewhere around ten. He had not counted and had no interest in doing so. Instead he sat back against the counter and closed his eyes once more. He had withdrawn so far into himself that he had not heard Oliver get to his feet nor walk across the floor. The first sound that had cut through his meditation was the door moving. His eyes shot open, his hand darting quickly to his gun, but he paused once he saw Oliver standing there. The younger man flipped the locks on the door shut and then drew the shades to block any prying eyes.
When Oliver turned around and saw Mikkel looking at him, he seemed surprised. Mikkel's own look transformed to confused at that, just slowly regarding Oliver as the younger man returned, sitting a few feet away once more.
"We're not staying long," Mikkel told him, which drew a soft smile from Oliver. It was still guarded, as well as it should have been, Mikkel figured. He had itched to kill Oliver ever since he had known who Mikkel was, and it really did seem pretty improbable that he had suddenly changed his mind. However, Mikkel had indeed changed his mind. Enough stuff had happened in the few days since Oliver had come into his life to allow some switching of sides, Mikkel reasoned.
"Think we are," Oliver said, a bit of playful defiance in his tone that Mikkel did not share nor follow. Oliver had just found out that Mikkel was infected with the Berserker disease, and they had just witnessed the Presence come down from the sky and tell them all that they would be removed from the universe. There seemed to be very little to smile about, and yet Oliver did. "You've been asleep." Oliver finally told him, drawing more confusion from Mikkel. There was no way that he would have slept. He chose when to sleep and he never would have done so while hiding out in a store that could have been surrounded by soldiers at any moment. They were not far from where Oliver had been held, and despite everything else, that would have given him good reason not to nod off. Oliver, though, seemed sure he had been asleep even though Mikkel knew it could not have been true.
"Wasn't asleep," Mikkel said defiantly, rubbing at his arm where the injection points began to ache. It was a good sign that Mikkel was beginning to feel his skin again, and not just the internalized burning pain. He was coming back to being human, but there was no telling how long it would take to stop his blood from being infectious. There were not exactly living Berserker specimens that there could have been studies done on.
"So you snore while resting?" Oliver said, far too jovial, bordering on playfully annoying. Mikkel frowned, so Oliver pushed on, grin widening to an actual smile as Mikkel’s frustration showed. "Bet that would have been annoying as hell to everyone! You just sitting there, reading a book, snoring away." Mikkel did not feel as excited as Oliver obviously did, but there was something about the younger man's tone that rubbed on him just a little. Mikkel twisted a bit to reach his leg out and kick Oliver. The younger man pulled his long legs up to his chest and jumped up, purposefully staying out of Mikkel's range as he moved around him, past the counter, and into the room behind it. With Oliver out of sight, Mikkel pondered more about the situation.
Everyone out on that street had seen the Presence. That actually could have been a good thing for them since the anxiety something like that would cause in the general populous would keep the Government busy. There would have been too many reports, too much distress, for them to launch a manhunt, and civilians would have been too busy losing their minds to notice some wanted men walking in their midst. It would be a perfect time to get out there and get away, but Mikkel had no idea if he was safe to be around people yet. He did not need to accidentally infect more people, especially given his new found motto of wanting no more civilians to die for the Government's transgressions. Mikkel was only brought back to the moment when Oliver reentered the room. He opened his eyes once more and regarded the younger man, frowning heavily at the towels Oliver carried.
"What…" He began, letting himself trail off as he got a soft smile from Oliver in return.
"Not suggesting you look in a mirror, but you really can't go out there looking like that. People are going to think you killed someone, and that won’t really help us keep a low profile." Mikkel looked down at his hands where the blood had dried in streaks. He could not imagine that the rest of him looked any better. Oliver extended a wet cloth to Mikkel, and the older man washed up, double washing places Oliver pointed out to him. He then dried, and only then did Oliver draw his attention to the poorly bandaged slice on his hand and the wounds the prostitute had inflicted. Mikkel stared at them for several seconds, letting the memories wash over him. He had killed countless soldiers with just that one cut, and Mikkel actually felt a bit of guilt at that. He had a feeling that it had to do with what the Presence had said, that they had all turned into the disease that would kill anything and anyone in their way in order to get what they wanted, and the weight of culpability felt worse than the pain had. He wished there was a drug in the world that would make him not feel remorse for all the bad choices he had made, but Mikkel knew that there was not. There were only the walls he had built over years that he would have to begin repairing soon.
"I can do it," Oliver offered quietly, shifting to open the first aid kit he had held under the towels. Mikkel slowly shook his head and removed the bandage from his hand, reaching to take the kit that Oliver did not exactly offer up. When Mikkel saw that they were at an impasse, he frowned heavily up at the younger man.
"I could still be infectious, Oliver. Just give me the med kit." Still Oliver stalled; looking over at the dead man that Mikkel had shot earlier. He had stopped bleeding out and lay in a pool of his own blood. The body had obviously been disturbed, shifted from where it had fallen originally. There was no doubt that the owner had taken Mikkel's payment and had removed herself from the location in the time that they had been gone. It had been for the better.
"And what do you think touching him is going to do?" Mikkel asked with a bit of a short temper that felt like entirely his own fault. He still was not entirely ready to deal with Oliver, but since they were momentarily safe, Oliver seemed to think it would be a good time to begin dialog between them.
"Well, won’t it… I dunno, bring him back to life or something? Make him one of those Berserkers?" Mikkel tried not to look exasperated as he motioned for the kit once again, and suffered through Oliver's ignorance. He did not get the kit or Oliver's sudden and unexplainable understanding, so he settled with just answering the question.
"It's not a zombie disease, Oliver." Mikkel told him in a clipped tone that he knew was unfair. "The dead are dead, no matter what you pump them with. This… disease, it just makes them want to kill. It sets people on fire inside, and they just want others to hurt too. There's no way a corpse could feel that." Oliver frowned then, deeper than Mikkel's had been. It was obvious by the look on his face that he was still trying to piece things together, see the bigger picture that was still hidden from him. Though the information had managed to fit with the other things Oliver had learned, there was still no overarching picture revealed to him yet. Seemingly resigned, Oliver approached with the kit. Mikkel reached for it, but as he did Oliver reached as well. He grabbed Mikkel's hand hard, not letting the older man pull from his grip as their palms were forced together. Mikkel used his other hand to grab Oliver's wrist, disengaging the hold that the younger man had on him.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Mikkel nearly shouted, and Oliver looked at his hand where Mikkel's blood was smeared across it. If Maria's mission for Mikkel really came to an end because the stupid kid he had been asked to protect was dumb enough to infect himself with the Berserker virus, Mikkel was going to be pissed.
"You can't tell by touching a dead body, and you can't tell by not touching anyone, so I'm volunteering, Mikkel. I'm in this as thick as you, so why chance infecting innocent people when I'm willing to take it?" It was entirely beside the point, but Mikkel did not need to tell the younger man that. Instead he roughly snatched the medical kit from Oliver's hand and set about cleaning and properly bandaging his own wounds. The only thing they could do at that point was wait and see what the blood did to Oliver.
"Could have just waited until I stopped bleeding, Oliver," Mikkel growled back, re-bandaging his cuts. He then grabbed Oliver's wrist again and forced the younger man to sit in front of him. Deftly he began to bandage Oliver's hand where the chip had been inserted and subsequently removed. If Oliver contracted the disease, and it was uncontrollable like those in the lab, then Mikkel would have to put him down. However, if Opal kept it in check like Mikkel's, it would be better to not have an open wound anywhere on Oliver. "Take some damn Opal before that shit eats you out."
"I feel fine," Oliver commented back, rubbing Mikkel's blood off of his hand and onto one of the towels. "I don't feel any different than I did before I touched you. How long does it usually take?" Mikkel did not look up from Oliver's hand as he forced a bandage down over the cut. He still frowned, still hated Oliver's brash move, but he was thankful that the younger man seemed not to have contracted the infection.
"Usually a few minutes for the full transformation, I guess. I don't know. Maybe, because you haven't drank any water or taken any drugs, your immune system would be better at fighting it off. I have no idea how this actually works, Oliver." Instead of being put off by the answer, Oliver actually smiled. He retracted his hand and put both of them behind him, leaning back to support himself as he grinned in triumph at Mikkel. It was generally annoying how Oliver smiled brightly when he should be scared, so Mikkel set him with a hard gaze.
"Or maybe you just can't hurt me in any reality." Oliver said, a bit of defiant arrogance in his tone that made Mikkel shake his head in annoyance. Oliver laughed, grinning wider as he watched Mikkel, seeing in him pieces of the Mikkel he knew. "Maybe I just know you better than you think I do," Oliver quipped one more time, drawing a light sigh from the older man. Oliver knew nothing about him, Mikkel knew that, but if it made it easier for the younger man to deal with everything by pretending he did then it would be fine. They would need to move soon, they both knew that, but for a few more minutes they could both believe that they were safe, even from each other.
Playlist by the Amazing MasterPenguin: https://8tracks.com/masterpenguin/liberty-of-possession
Chapter 9 Song by the Amazing MasterPenguin: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FTd7DCE-eSs
Master Post: http://z4rf3.livejournal.com/16531.html
Chapter 10 God Given: http://z4rf3.livejournal.com/18966.html