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If I Was Your Vampire
Topic Started: Jul 8 2017, 05:53 PM (5,798 Views)
Sam Tyler
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Gladys
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
*Frank Morgan.

Sam got used to life in 1973. Not exactly complacent - he still longs to go home - but... he stopped fighting quite so hard. He made more of an effort to get along with everyone.

Until Frank Morgan came along, and toppled all of that.

Now, Sam feels torn. He wants to go home. He wants to. But... there are things keeping him here as well. Chris has become an avid student, and Sam enjoys playing the role of mentor. Leaving Annie, after everything she's done for him, feels like betrayal.

And Gene...

Well...

Sam stops walking, looking up at the sky for a moment. It's heavily cloudy, promising rain. Better hurry up...

Pulling his jacket's collar up a bit higher, Sam continues on, his cuban heels clacking on the cobblestones.

He can't say that he and Gene are dating. For one because Gene would punch him, and for another because even Sam wouldn't use that term. A quick fumble in an alleyway, Gene getting him off in the Cortina in the dead of the night... That one time they dragged each other into Lost & Found and practically had a fight over who was to give the first blowjob...

That's not dating. Sam doesn't know what it is, but it isn't dating. And yet, it isn't just impersonal sex either.

Because Sam cares. He cares about what happens to Gene. He gets worried when he notices Gene starting his day off with whiskey for breakfast. When his cough sounds horribly chesty. When he's staring off into space, thinking no one is watching him.

Stepping through the gate to the cemetery, Sam shakes his head. He's tried to puzzle this out many times over the last few weeks, and it's never lead him anywhere. Asking Gene out "officially" is out of the question, surely. And it's not like Sam wants to get involved properly anyway - if he's going to go home...

And there he is again, at the beginning of that thought cycle.

Sam stops, looks around until he spots the familiar figure, stood in the distance beneath a tree, looking at one of the graves. Morgan asked Sam to meet him there. Sam ignores a creeping feel of dread at the sight, takes a breath and makes his way over to the man. Whatever he wants to talk about, hopefully they'll be done before it starts raining... Sam didn't bring an umbrella.

Once he's close enough, Sam calls out.*

Frank?
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
*Sam opens his mouth, then closes it again. How does he know? He knows.

Helpless, Sam stares into Gene's eyes, silently pleading with him. His voice is quavering when he does speak up.*

I... I-I just do...

*I need you, Gene, I need you, I need you... *
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene wants to believe Sam, he really does. But he knows what happens when they kiss - when the blood starts pumping, the adrenaline rising... It's too much of a risk...

Gene sighs, his hand dropping from Sam's shoulder and his head dipping.*

Promised I'd protect you, didn't I. And I bloody hate it, but.... This is me, protecting you.

Shit.
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
*Sam just stares at Gene, uncomprehending for the first few seconds. Then, he feels an odd ache pulsing through his chest. something within him groaning and curling in on itself.

Gene rejected him.

And suddenly, that longing, the irresistible pull he felt up to that moment, lets up. It's still there, but it's as if Gene's words have severed a connection that had begun to establish itself between them.

Despite this, Sam desperately tries to articulate what's going on within him.*

I-I need you.
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Gene Hunt
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*The sorrow in Sam's eyes hurt somewhere deep down inside Gene's core. he doesn't want Sam to think he doesn't want him - it's the opposite. Gene wouldn't have tried so hard to save Sam if he didn't.*

... Feeling's mutual.

Which is why... Why we can't.
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
*This time, Sam actually flinches - only slightly, but still noticeably. Gene means what he's saying, he can sense that much... but it makes the refusal all the more painful, on a level that Sam doesn't quite understand.

The red in his eyes bleeds away and he drops his gaze, finally withdrawing his hand from Gene's. The loss of contact makes him feel cold all over, his own body feeling foreign.

The worst thing is that Sam simply can't find the words to explain to Gene what just happened. How intense the attraction was, and with how much certainty he knew that that kiss had to happen, right in that moment. It wasn't just for Sam's peace of mind - it was for Gene's safety as well.

But he can't say it, any of it. So Sam sits there in silence, trying to recover from that blow.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Sam looks heartbroken. And that in itself hurts Gene as though it's him who's had a stake driven through his heart. Sam has to understand... He's trying to give him the best chance here... The best chance at staying himself.

What can he even say now? That he's sorry? Because he is, he's so sorry. For everything they've lost, and everything they're denied in the future. He hates it.

But the words don't come out. So Gene sits there in silence, morose and downhearted.*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*The silence stretches, until Sam can't stand it any longer. The thought of leaving Gene's side almost causes him physical pain, but at the same time, there's a barrier between them, which feels even more unbearable.

Sam gets up to his feet slowly, lacking the strong elegance his movements have developed over the last couple of weeks. He needs to come to terms with this, the hole that Gene's refusal carved into him, in addition to the already existing hole where his heart would have been.

He mutters without even realising that he's saying it out loud*

Get some sleep.

*Then he turns and leaves, mechanically walking up the stairs and into his room. He sits down on the bed in the dark room, staring out of the window without really seeing anything. He won't be lying down tonight.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Sam's muttered words send a sting through Gene. It's as though he's robbed Sam of any spark of happiness, even though that wasn't his intention at all. He'd give anything to be able to lean in and kiss Sam without worry - anything except Sam's soul. His personality. If he did anything that triggered the vampire into taking over, he'd never forgive himself. So he sits frozen as Sam leaves, and he doesn't move for another good ten minutes, paralysed by regret. But eventually he does drag himself up and makes himself get into bed. However shit he feels, he's got an important job to do tomorrow...

Things still feel weird in the morning, like there's a horrible distance between them suddenly. It's awful. But Gene can't let himself be distracted - he needs to get into character. Keep the job in mind. Or it could end disastrously. He'll try taking to Sam afterwards, when the job's done. He'll make things right

Luckily Gene's contact came good, and after a painful and awkward farewell to Sam, Gene's meeting Johns face to face. Playing up his cocky criminal act, boasting about previous heists, all with some root in the truth - enough to keep Johns convinced should be go digging for information. And thankfully he seems to buy it. With the promise of a fortune in his back pocket, Gene is accepted into the fold. He's in.

The first day is nerve-wracking to say the least. Gene meets other comrades, starts contributing to the plan. There's a good atmosphere, blokes joking around, having a beer, getting a feel for each other - not much different to meeting a bunch of fellow football fans in the pub. But Gene doesn't let his guard down, and he's slightly rattled when Johns insists they all spend the night in the Base (a small old farm building just out of town) to stop anyone from being caught. There goes his opportunity to call Sam...

The second day, Johns goes out and leaves the others to it, ordering them to go over the plan as many times as is needed. It's not until after lunch that he returns, a stony look on his face. As he walks into the room roughly regarded as his 'office' and slams the door, all the others can do is assume that he's has problems sourcing the clothing he was after. One by one they go in to try and find out, and re-emerge with an odd look in their eye. Slightly unnerved, Gene continues as usual.

Eventually, Johns calls his fake name and beckons, prompting Gene to get up and enter the office. Must be another errand for him to run...*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
*Saying goodbye to Gene is hard. It shouldn't be this hard, not when Sam logically knows that his feelings for Gene are reciprocated - really, he should be over the moon, despite the worry for Gene's safety.

But there's something within him that was deeply wounded the night before. The physical contact, the kiss, they were important - and when Gene stopped him, it was as though he'd been stabbed with a stake all over again. And now, in addition to all that, the worry for Gene is almost driving Sam mad.

There is no word from Gene the entire day. No word from him in the evening. No word even after midnight. Sam hasn't been sleeping anymore anyway, but he acutely feels the strain of not having even relaxed for a full night when dawn breaks. What happened? Why hasn't Gene tried to contact anyone? All Sam knows is that Johns must have moved his crew out of town during the day - their contacts indicated as much. But following any of them would have been too risky. So now, there's nothing they can do until Gene gets the chance to call.

If he gets the chance.

Weighed down by all of this, Sam does the best he can at work. He's in charge in Gene's absence, so he needs to try and at least do that right. At the very least, it's a decent distraction from the dull pain in his chest.

--

Johns is stood at the end of the room, behind a desk messily strewn with papers, maps, beer bottles and playing cards. He's watching as Gene enters, his gaze sharp, though his stance doesn't seem hostile. It's the usual bravado with which these men regard each other.

"Sykes. How're we doin' today?"*
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Gene Hunt
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[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
*Trying to act casual, Gene stuffs his hands in his unfamiliar pockets and shrugs.*

Yeah, not bad, not bad. Lookin' forward to gettin' this done though, y'know what I mean? Kipping on the floor in a sleepin' bag ain't exactly luxury.
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
*Johns' lips twitch, but his gaze remains sharp and calculating. Almost... Aggressive.

"You used to more luxury then, is that it? Think this is below your pay grade?"*
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene quirks his lip in response - Johns wants attitude. He wants to be shown Gene (or Sykes rather) can handle himself. That he's used to a hard life.*

Naah, mate. Just lookin' forward to the outcome is all. Bit of slumming's worth it to mug somebody over, you know?
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*"Hm."

Johns seems darkly amused by Gene's answer.

"An' you've got experience with that, 'aven't you. Mugging somebody over."

Johns crosses his arms and raises his chin a little.

"Remind me."*
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Gene Hunt
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*For a moment, Gene is confused. But he keeps a solid, confident look on his face. Bluffing is the key here.*

Y'mean the post office? Pretty naff haul from that one, but whatcha gonna do.
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Johns makes a sound as though he's agreeing, before falling silent for a few moments again, merely watching Gene.

Suddenly, he uncrosses his arms and leans forward onto the desk.

"And yer ready to go all out on this? It's a high risk job, and I can't 'ave bastards on the team who turn and run like yapping dogs when things get hairy."*
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Gene Hunt
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*Ahh. Good. He seems to have answered correctly. Unbreakable in his facade, Gene spreads his arms and scoffs.*

Do I look like I'd ever turn tail and run? M'no bleedin' Chuihuaha, mate.
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*This time, Johns doesn't laugh. He's silent for another few seconds, and when he speaks again, his voice is dangerously low.

"No."

He straightens up, walks around his desk until he's stood right in front of Gene. Johns is tall, easily looking him in the eye.

"Yer a bloody pig."

He spits the last word out as though it's the most disgusting thing he's ever said.

And then, he draws one hand back, curled into a fist, and punches Gene square across the jaw.*

Edited by Sam Tyler, Nov 9 2017, 10:35 PM.
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Gene Hunt
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*As the word 'pig' spits from Johns's lips, Gene feels his stomach plummet down into his shoes. What-- How did he--!?

But any reply he could have made there is cut off violently. His jaw crunches, his head snaps sideways. Suddenly he finds himself flat against the wall a few staggered steps away, eyes wide with shock.

SHIT.*

Y'wh--what!? That's... that's bollocks! Who told you that, I'll bloody skin 'em alive!
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
*Johns doesn't waste any time. He's right in Gene's face within a moment, roughly yanking him up by his collar, their faces uncomfortably close.

"Lil' bird," he growls, following his words with another punch.

"You've got balls, I'll give you that - thinkin' you'd get away with this!"

Next to them, the door opens, and one by one, the crew begin to file in. Seems like the punches were their cue.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Reeling from the second punch, Gene raises his arms - one to protect himself from further attacks, the other held out in a 'stop' motion. Jesus Christ this is bad. This is so bad. Who the hell told on him?? He and Sam had been so damn careful! Not one of the other gang members has seen him before! Nobody knows who he is!!*

For Christ's sake!! I don't know what you heard, but the bastard was lying! Shit, I'm just tryin' to make a quick buck!!

*that's it... Keep the front up... Don't let them know how scared you are...!*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Johns barks out a laugh.

"Wouldn't surprise me, on your wages!"

Instead of punching Gene, however, Johns lets go of him and pushes him against the wall, taking a step back. The bad news is that now, Gene is completely surrounded by the gang, and none of them look like they're on his side.

Johns sticks his hands into his pockets.

"The act's up, my friend."

He raises his voice, addressing the other men.

"Lads! I'm sure you've all been lookin' forward to meeting Detective Chief Inspector Gene Hunt!"*
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene's back collides with the wall again, and he realises at last that he's completely surrounded.

Shit.... What the hell does he do now!? He can't dive for an exit, there's too many of them... And he doesn't have a weapon on him...

He grits his teeth, sending a wave of pain across his battered jaw. There's nothing he can say. He can't deny he's police any more - they know his actual sodding name and rank! But nobody else has seen him - nobody else here knew a thing! So who the hell told??

Heart beating hard in his chest, Gene stays against the wall, tensely staring Johns down. Waiting for the reactions of the others to his betrayal.

There's nothing he can say.*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*The other men don't seem too surprised. Some scoff, some grin, but overall, they're waiting for Johns to continue. It's clear that all of them were alerted to the situation before Johns called Gene into his office.

Johns stares back at Gene, his eyes shining with malice.

"What, cat got yer tongue?"

He takes a step forward again, his eyes never leaving Gene's.

"I've heard of you, y'know. Heard you can be a right mouthy bastard. Isn't that right boys?"

The others mutter in agreement. There's the sound knuckles and necks cracking, the men beginning to gear up for what they know is inevitably going to happen. They're looking forward to it.*
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Gene Hunt
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*breathing heavily in an attempt to control his panic, Gene replies angrily. It's not going to help him, but at this point, nothing will. He's completely alone, surrounded by thugs he's personally humiliated and angered. Thugs that're being commanded by a known cop killer.*

Dogs, pigs, birds and now cats? Got animals on the brain, you 'ave. Shouldn't be surprised though, seein' as you are one.
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*That draws some laughter, even from Johns - they all can tell that Gene is grasping for straws, and that he knows exactly what kind of shit he's in.

It'll be all the more fun to take him down.

Even Johns grins, finally extracting his hands from his pockets - and now, he seems to be holding something.

"Oh, good one. You've got humour at least."

Maintaining eye contact, Johns moves his hands, as though he's about to out in gloves. However, what he's sliding over his fingers is in fact a pair of solid iron knuckledusters, glinting in the dim light.

He nods towards the men, and two of them step forward, reaching out to grab a hold of Gene's arms.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene feels a cold chill in his heart as Johns slides on the knuckle dusters. Jesus, he's not kidding around. Those things... They can split skin, break bone... Suddenly Gene's very aware of the fragility of his own body.

He resists as the others try to grab his arms, determined not to let them get a grip on him. He yanks his arms away, trying to put as much distance between him and anyone else as possible.*

Get your stinkin' hands off me!
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*There is nowhere for Gene to go - the men are closing in on him, and while he does manage to avoid the grasp of the first pair, there are four others who quickly jump in. Within a matter of seconds Gene is restrained, his arms twisted up behind his back, while Johns takes his time adjusting the metal on his knuckles. Another man, known as Buster to the rest of the gang, pulls up a baseball bat.

"You've only got yourself to blame for this, Hunt. Thinking you'd outsmart us all..." Johns scoffs. "The cheek!"

He raises one fist, flexing his fingers as if to test the knuckleduster's hold, making sure that Gene is able to see the metal clearly.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene continues to fight, right up until he finds too many hands on him, too many arms holding him firm. Eventually he finds himself completely restrained, arms painfully shoved up his back, his weight forced backwards, Gene can do nothing but watch as Johns flexes his fingers, showing off the angular metal weapon attached to his fist.

Gene feels sick. He's gone pale, he knows he has. But he can't show it. Forcing the look of fear on his face into fury, he spits back at Johns.*

You do this, you're gonna have the entire power of CID so far up your arse you won't be able to take a shit for a year!
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*At this, a strange grin flits over Johns' face.

"I don't think so."

And without further warning, he draws back his fist and slams it into the side of Gene's face, accompanied by loud cheering from the men around them.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene isn't ready for the impact. He'd never be ready for this. Not the sharp, hard edges of cruel steel smashing into his face. The pain doesn't register at first, just the incredible impact. And then theres a rush of something warm and wet down his cheek. And then at last, the pain hits.

If he weren't being held upright, he'd have collapsed right there.

Stars swirling in front of his screwed-shut eyes and head hanging low, Gene gasps.*

You... You're gonna... Regret this...
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*The only answer Gene gets is a metal-lad punch to his stomach, and the jeering from the other men. They're enjoying this, watching a high-ranking police officer getting what he deserves.

Not giving him a chance to adjust, Johns follows it up with another blow, this time to Gene's shoulder. Then Buster jumps in, smashing the baseball bag into Gene's midriff.*
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Gene Hunt
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*The punch to the stomach forces Gene to double over, pulling the restraining hands forward. But he doesn't get far. Suddenly his arm is on fire, the solid metal crashing into his shoulder.

The baseball bat smashes the breath from him, an explosion going off in his midriff, an unbearable stabbing pain - a broken bone, surely...

Gene coughs, small blood spots splattering onto the dusty ground. A wheeze sounds from his chest. Broken, definitely.

Whole body consumed by pain, Gene can only barely grunt a plea.*

S-st-stop....
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*More jeering, dirty laughter at Gene's plea.

"What, already?"

Johns steps forward, roughly grabbing Gene's chin and forcing his head up, so that everyone can see the bruises and cuts he's already sustained.

"That didn't last very long, did it!"

He punctuates that statement with another hard punch, this time to the other side of Gene's face.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Barely withholding a sob, Gene gasps and shudders, the jeers cutting like knives. The humiliation on top of his body breaking down, it's unbearable.

Eyes closed already, Gene only realises the next punch is coming when the metal punctures his skin, snapping his head violently to the side. Another trickle of something warm and wet falls down his face, but this time the pain is too intense for him to register it. His knees buckle, consciousness flickering. If they carry on like this, he'll be beaten to death. Bludgeoned beyond recognition. Already his face feels broken, his breaths accompanied by an agonising wheeze. Hot liquid is running into his eyes, he can hardly see...

Sagging limply against the hands holding him, Gene can't find the words. There's nothing in him now but pain and an internal plea for this to end.*
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Sam Tyler
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*"I think he's losin' it, boss" says one of the men holding Gene up, even as he sags in their grips.

Johns scoffs in response - he'd expected to get a bit more fun out of that one... But he has orders to follow. If Hunt can't take any more than this, then it's time to move on.

"Tom, find me a box big enough for this pig. Bill and Jim, go get shovels."

The men who've been holding Gene up all this time now let go of him, unceremoniously letting him drop to the floor before they scatter. Buster in the meantime, having disappeared from Johns' side, returns with a length of rope in his hands.

Johns kneels down, grabbing a fistful of Gene's hair and pulling his head up off the ground.

"Oi."*
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Gene Hunt
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*The world spins sickeningly as Gene falls, fire spreading through his middle as his body twists around the broken ribs. He lets out a choked groan as he hits the floor, blood dripping on the ground in front of his eyes.

Something about what someone just said sends a fresh wave of fear through him - but with blood roaring in his ears he isn't aware of what it is.

Suddenly his head is yanked up, a word barked in his face. Teeth gritted, all Gene can do in response is blink his eyes open - try to focus on the face in front of him. What the hell is going on?!*
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Sam Tyler
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*Johns searches Gene's face, squinting as he looks for a sign that the DCI is still conscious enough to understand what's going to happen to him. He has explicit orders not to kill the copper immediately, which is a bloody shame... So he at least wants to see the terror in his eyes.

The thought makes Johns grin an ugly grin.

"Yer lucky yer alive... For now."

His grin widens.

"Not for much longer, though."

Johns lets go of Gene's hair. Buster moves in, kicking Gene's side to force him to roll onto his side.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene can just about understand what Johns is saying... They're not going to kill him? Not instantly? It damn well feels like he's dying anyway, the amount of pain he's in. And then slowly it dawns on him - what that word was before. 'Box'.

He... He doesn't understand...

The kick finally forces a short, sharp yell out of Gene, his lungs refusing to keep it in any longer. The momentum sends him onto his back, but his immediate reaction is to curl up - to wrap his arms around himself and try to roll the whole way over. Being laid out straight, it feels like his whole midsection is tearing itself apart. Gene screws his eyes shut again and chokes against the throbbing in his head and the stabbing in his ribs.*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Buster looks annoyed as Gene rolls over, but in reality it doesn't even matter. He kneels down, roughly yanking Gene's arms away from his body, and begins to wind and tie the rope around his wrists as Johns watches.

A clanking noise at the other end of the room tells Johns that Bill and Jim have found the shovels. He sends one of them back out to help Tom - they'll need a crate big enough to contain Hunt properly, so it won't be easy to carry.*
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Gene Hunt
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*still in a haze of pain, Gene can only put up a token resistance as Buster starts to lash his hands together - he pulls and tries to escape as best as he can, but it's no use.

And then there are the clanks of the shovels.

Box. Shovels.

In a stuttering and pain-filled voice, Gene gasps.*

What... Wh-what...
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Sam Tyler
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*The men around Gene laugh - seems like he's finally catching up.

"You'll find out soon enough, pig."

He reaches down, roughly pulling Gene up by one arm.

"Up."

The cop's going to walk to his burial ground.*
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Gene Hunt
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*God... Oh god, if they get him up... That's bad, that's got to be bad. He doesn't know the specifics - two bleeding head injuries are bound to cloud your comprehension a bit - but he knows this is BAD.

He can't even follow the commands. He couldnt stand even if he wanted to. So he pulls his arm back as hard as he can with a slurred,*

Gerroff m-me....!
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Without another word, Johns reaches down again, grabbing a proper hold of Gene's arm and pulling him up all the way, without a care for the injuries they've already inflicted on him. Like hell are they going to carry Hunt like some kind of princess!

Johns keeps his hold on Gene's arm for a few seconds longer, grip like a vice, hissing into his ear.

"You stand and you walk, pig, or I shoot you right bloody now."

Having heard this, Buster disappears from the room, only to return a few seconds later holding one of the shotguns the gang has acquired for the heist. They all know they can't kill the copper instantly - but the copper doesn't need to know that.*
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*Shit.... Shit, he can't... He can't even stand up... But if he doesn't try, he'll die instantly...

Breaths shuddering with effort and pain, Gene forces his legs to strengthen - to lock. And finally he's teetering on the verge of standing, as vertical as he's going to get. His midriff screams at him for pressure, but with his hands tied there's nothing he can do.*
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Sam Tyler
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*Johns lets go of Gene as soon as he doesn't look like he's about to keel over immediately. Buster hands him the shotgun, and Johns presses the muzzle right in between Gene's shoulder blades.

"Now walk. Out the back."

He jabs the gun roughly into Gene's back, prompting him to take the first step.*
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Gene Hunt
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* Vision spinning and his stomach rolling, Gene has no choice but to wobble forward. Every step is a gamble, every footfall one step closer to collapse. He weaves, stumbling and faltering, knees unsteady. He's certain now, he's walking to his demise. This is some big theatrical spectacle, meant to make him feel even more powerless and hopeless than before. And damn them, it's working...*
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*And so the slow journey to the back yard of the old barn begins. The group is joined in the entrance area by the rest of the men, who between them are carrying a more or less man-size wooden box, along with a lid and a toolbox. The men grin among themselves, throwing Gene glances, but they don't say anything - they want the copper to realise what's about to happen to him. They want to see the dawning horror, want the humiliation to be absolutely perfect.

Once outside, Johns continues pushing Gene, forcing him to stagger towards the small forest behind the farm area.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Breathing heavily, wheezing his way forward, Gene forces his way on. But the sight of the box makes him pause. It takes a moment before he can really tell what it is, blood in his eyes and all - but finally he spots it. Just about big enough for him to fit in. And the toolbox. The shovels.

They're going to kill him and bury him in the woods...??

He freezes, his whole body going cold.

Sam'll never find him.

There'll be no evidence for him to find. No trail to follow.

Will he even be able to smell Gene's blood through wood and soil?

Stopped in his tracks, Gene tries to turn around - to face Johns and beg again for him not to do this.*

Johns. Y'can... y'can s-still stop this...
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Sam Tyler
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*In response, Jihns whacks the shotgun's muzzle across the back of Gene's head - not hard enough to make him fall over, but the message is clear.

He even says it out loud, albeit with the same ugly grin he was displaying earlier.

"Walk."*
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Gene Hunt
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*The smack to the head sets his other injuries off like alarm bells - the two large cuts on either side of his head where the knuckledusters collided earlier - it almost makes Gene throw up there and then. Bit with no choice, Gene struggles on, his strength fading with every faltering step.

This is it, isn't it. This is where he's going to die. Alone in this wood, surrounded by bastards jeering for his death.*
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*They continue into the woods, the men with the shovels walking a little ahead of the group. They know exactly where Johns wants them to go, and the sooner they beginn, the better.

Johns seems to be getting impatient, pushing the muzzle into Gene's back with more insistence as he slows down. Seeing a copper struggle won't elicit mercy from someone like Johns.

And then, finally, he calls out, "Stop."

They've reached a small clearing, several hundred metres away from the barn. The men have already stabbed their shovels into the ground, but they're waiting for Johns' final approval.*
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* As Johns calls for everyone to stop, Gene teeters on the spot for a moment, taking in the sight of the men with their shovels ready to dig... to... to dog his grave.... And then the fear, the change in motion and the dizziness from his injuries sway him just that little too far. His legs give out and he staggers sideways a step before he topples downwards, too exhausted to stand any longer.*
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Sam Tyler
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*Gene collapses to the sound of dirty laughter. Johns steps up to him, roughly nudging his side with the tip of his boot.

"Pathetic."

He kneels down, grabbing Gene's hair just like before to get him to look up and get his attention.

"You better enjoy this lie down, cos this? This is the last time you'll be breathing proper air, pig."

He lets go, then looks over to the rest of the gang.

"Start digging."

And they do.

---

Back at the station, Sam can't concentrate. Saying goodbye to Gene the say before was hell already, but then Gene failed to contact anyone in the evening. And now, in the late afternoon, there's still no word.

Sam's just about managed to keep himself topped up on blood without anyone noticing, but now, as the detectives file out one by one to get to the pub, at least he doesn't have to worry as much about being found out. He stayed late in the office last night, and he intends to do so today as well - just in case Gene calls. It's not like he needs to eat or drink, or sleep.

He'll just sit there and wait.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Sam won't hear him coming - of course he won't. Morgan's as silent as a cat. So he's fully expecting Sam to jump as he steps out of the shadows completely unannounced. His fingers are laced together in front of his casually - like he's just seen a plan come to fruition. His predatory gaze sets on Sam.

"Mr Tyler. You look perturbed. Is there perhaps something I can help with?" *
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Sam Tyler
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*Morgan is absolutely right - the moment his voice rings out, Sam jerks as though an electric current has been sent through his body. He's out of his chair in the blink of an eye, putting distance between himself and Morgan, his body language tense like a cat that's ready to defend itself against something much larger.

However, Sam remains silent for several seconds, just staring at Morgan with wide, red eyes.

His voice is surprisingly calm, albeit quiet and tense when he finally speaks.*

... Why are you here?

*He can't know that Gene has gone undercover.

Can he?*
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*Morgan doesn't even twitch, frozen in place like a statue, his smug expression unbreakable. He got to Sam just then, he knows it.

"Sam, you know why I'm here. You're an intelligent lad. Why don't you take a guess?" *
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Sam Tyler
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*Sam grits his teeth, a glint of fangs showing through his lips for just a moment as he searches Morgan's face, ready to bolt should the vampire begin advancing on him. Morgan still is able to see right through him... Shit. He hates this, hates that feeling of powerlessness... And all the while, the worry for Gene eats at him... Christ, he can't think...!*

... Gene isn't here.
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Gene Hunt
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*Morgan spreads his hands, a pleased grin spreading across his face. Sam hasn't quite gotten it 100%, but he's almost there!

"Well done, Sam. I knew you'd get there. And I'm assuming you'd like to know where he is, am I right?" *
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Sam Tyler
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*Sam blinks - that's a reaction he didn't expect...

Then, slowly, horror sets in. Morgan knows.

Morgan knows.

And with that realisation, an indescribable feeling begins to rise within Sam. Something horribly aggressive, overwhelmingly protective, and frighteningly powerful. Something he thought - the vampire thought - died when Gene rejected him.

Sam all but growls*

Tell me. Now.
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Gene Hunt
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*The intensity of Sam's stance, his growl - it's everything Morgan had hoped for. The aim is to get Sam as riled up as possible. Stir him up, just like the vampire inside of him - take him to a dark place he can't get out of.

He huffs a smug laugh, waiting a few seconds before answering.

"You don't want to know how I know myself? You're a detective, Sam. The little details are important."*
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Sam Tyler
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*Sam glares back at Morgan, his vision sharpening. With every second that passes, that feeling within him intensifies, along with a sensation of creeping dread. Somehow, he knows they're in a clock here. He can't afford to play Morgan's mind games.*

You interfered.

Now. Tell me.
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Gene Hunt
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*Morgan laughs, quiet amused laughter clearly meant to wind Sam up. The reaction from the other vampire is perfect. Maybe even a little too much so - there's an aura around Sam now - a kind of fierce primal anger beyond even what Morgan was expecting. Interesting....

... He'll have to keep an eye on that.

"You know where he was playing dress up. Johns's base. I'd start there - no telling how far they'll have gotten by now."*
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Sam Tyler
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*... Oh God. Morgan-- somehow, he knew about the undercover operation... Sam's mind is going into overdrive, and he quickly realises that Morgan is basically saying that Gene's been found out. Most likely thanks to Morgan himself.

The unidentifiable mix of emotions gives way to overwhelming fury - and anxiety for Gene's safety. If something were to happen to him-- if Johns--!!

He doesn't have time for Morgan. Gene needs him.

Without another word, Sam turns and storms out of CID, the vampire taking control. He needs to be fast now. Within a few seconds, it seems, Sam is sat in one of the unmarked cars and speeding towards the edge of town, where he knows Johns has established his base.

God, he told Gene, he knew it was a bad idea-- he needs to be alright, Gene needs to be okay-- Gene, Gene, Gene--

Suddenly, it's not the road Sam sees. It's an earthy path beneath wobbling legs, his hands bound by coarse rope, something unyielding pressing into his back. Hostile voices around him, and god, his head hurts, he can't breathe--

"Walk, Hunt."

Tires squeal as Sam hits the brakes, and the car breaks out, going off the road and into a patch of grass. If Sam still had a heart, it would be racing now as he stares out at the scenery before him, eyes wide with shock as he gasps quietly.

What-- what was that--?!

Gene...?!

Hands shaking, Sam forces himself to start up the car again and get it back on the road. He's almost there... And if this... This vision, or whatever it was, really was Gene, then....!!

The fury builds up again at the thought. Johns won't get to do this. Sam will--

He'll stop Johns. No matter the cost.

Sam continues to race down the country road, steadily approaching his goal.

---

Finally, the hole is deep enough. The men clamber out, and Johns once again kicks Gene's side.

"Oi, pig! Wakey wakey!"*
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*Morgan watches Sam go with a sense of satisfaction - it's working. He can feel it. The vampire is taking over.

Maybe this time his plan will work. Maybe this time, by using fear and a drive for revenge instead of injury, he can get the vampire to take control. To finally tear out some throats, finishing with Gene Hunt himself. Finally his protégé will come back to him a fully fledged killer.

He can't wait.

----------

Back in the forest, Gene is woken out of his pain-haze by the kick to his side. He gasps, curling in on himself a little more with a curse.*

Agh--! Shit--!

*Jesus, are they done?? The shovel sounds have stopped... Oh god, is this it??*
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*Gene wakes up to maliciously grinning faces around him - then, the muzzle of the shotgun, pointed straight at his face.

"Get up," Johns says, motioning with the gun. But he knows that the copper won't manage to oblige on his own, so he nods at Buster, who reaches down and pulls Gene up by his arms once more, entirely without care.*
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*Gene's yanked upwards again, his legs refusing to cooperate. The floor won't stand still, the world rolling underneath him, sending him falling into Buster awkwardly. Jesus, he can barely tell up from down...

Though maybe that's a blessing... He can see a hole in the ground. A hole meant for him. What are they gonna do, make him get in it? Shoot him? All options quite frankly make Gene feel physically sick.*
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*"Bloody hell."

Buster clearly isn't pleased with how Gene is sagging against him and forces him to stay upright, letting go of Gene's arm with a disgusted grunt before stepping back.

Johns in the meantime is enjoying this. The fear in Hunt's eyes - it's bloody brilliant, giving Johns a thrill he hasn't felt since he killed that officer.

He motions with the gun towards the large wooden box, only a few feet away from Gene.

"Get in there."*
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*Gene's expecting to be told to get in the hole - to wait for a shot to the back of the head or something... But what he hears next makes him blink.

... What....?

A fresh look of confusion washes over his face before finally it leaves behind only abject terror in the realisation - they're going to bury him.

They're going to bury him... Alive...?

Oh God no... Please, no... This can't be how his life ends...

Too injured to even think about putting up a front, Gene turns to Johns, gently shaking his head.*

What, y'not gonna sh-shoot me first? D-do the decent thing??
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Sam Tyler
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*There. There's the look Johns has been waiting for. God it feels so good. And now Hunt us actually pleading to be put down quickly? Bloody perfect.

The men around them chuckle.

Johns, that horrible grin on his face, says, "Nah. Y'don't deserve it.

Now get in, or I'll make you. Won't matter if I put a couple holes in yer legs."*
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*Horror. That's all Gene can feel now. Not the pain, nothing. Just absolute dread. They can't do this. This can't happen... He can't even fathom...

He's frozen to the spot. He can't do it. He can't physically do it. He's rooted to the spot, staring disbelievingly at the wooden box in front of him.

His coffin.

The box he'll be buried in. Gasp for air in. Suffocate slowly in, forgotten underneath the soil.

He can't.... *
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*The silence stretches - until it's broken by the sound of the shotgun being cocked, ready to release a load right into Gene's legs.

Once again Johns says, his voice now cold as ice.

"Get in, pig."*
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*the gun being cocked makes Gene jump. Oh god, oh God... But he can't do it!!

Body shaking, Gene takes one slow step towards the box - and another - until he's stood beside it, staring down with a haunted face.

He won't be able to get in. He can't.*
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*No matter how much Johns is enjoying this, he's also quickly losing his patience. Hunt was meant to suffocate, but if he shoots at him now, he might die of blood loss before that happens... Wouldn't really make a difference though, would it?

But no. He has clear orders, and he knows something bad will happen if he doesn't follow them.

So, with an annoyed huff, he lets the safety click back into place - then, quickly, he turns the gun around and shoves the handle into Gene's back, pushing him forward that way. If he stumbles and falls, it's his problem.*
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*That click... Was that the safety going back on? Was this all a prank? Were they just messing with him??

But then something hits his back. He loses his balance. Stumbles. The side of the box hits Gene's shin and he falls. And the surface he lands on is hard. Wooden. Not the soft mossy ground they'd just been walking on.

Gene opens his eyes, panicked. He needs to get out. The sides of the box are already closing in, claustrophobic. Dragging in deep, alarmed breaths, Gene tries to sit up, broken ribs be damned. He needs to get OUT.*
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*Gene doesn't get far. Buster crouches down and pushed him back down, roughly enough for Gene's head to hit the wood hard.

Not missing a beat, Tom and Jim pick up the lid and slam it down on top of the box, holding it in place while Bill moves in with the first nail and a hammer. Seconds later, the nail is embedded deeply into the wood.

And through all this - the last thing Gene sees before the lid comes on - Johns grins manically. The high he's getting off this is unbelievable - Hunt's expression is just... Utterly priceless.

And Johns laughs.

"Goodnight, copper!"*
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*The crack to the back of the head sends stars flashing in front of Gene's eyes - but through them he can just make out Johns, grinning like his Christmas came early.

And then with a wooden thump, darkness.

Suddenly Gene's own breaths sound terribly loud.

The hammer cracks like a gunshot, and something about it sets off a brand new wave of panic. They're nailing him in!

Fuck! Oh jesus...!!

Summoning strength he doesn't have, Gene pushes up with all his might - his bound hands and his knees pushing, pushing. A shout tears from his throat - he needs to get free! To stop the nails from sealing him in!

FUCK!!*
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Sam Tyler
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*Gene only gets laughter in return. With three men pressing down on the lid, he doesn't stand a chance.

The hammer hits home, again and again. Two nails, three four, seven... They're being thorough.

"Squeal all you want, pig, no one's gonna hear you!!" That's Johns, his voice cruel and gleeful.*

---

Still a few miles off, Sam hears something. A desperate shout, faint and echoing.

Gene.

His teeth grit to the point where it feels like they should break, Sam stamps down on the accelerator even further.*
Edited by Sam Tyler, Nov 14 2017, 01:20 AM.
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*Gene keeps pushing until he has nothing left. The wheeze in his breathing sounds like a metal saw, the hammering nails like guns firing right next to his ears. Every deafening bang slams through him, blasting away every shred of hope from him.

He's panicking. This must be what a panic attack feels like.

He can't breathe. But there's air left, there must be. It's his own lungs refusing to take it in.

And Sam... Oh god, he's sorry, Sam... You were right... You were right all along... And now you're alone, to deal with this... Gene stifles a dry sob. He's sorry.*
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*The men can tell when Gene stops fighting - there's no more creaking, no more pressure against the wooden lid. The copper has given up, just as the last nail is hammered home.

Johns gives the nod. All the other men bend down, heaving the box up. Hunt is heavy, but luckily, the hole is just there. None too gently they lower the box down into the earth, letting it fall the last couple of feet. The hole itself is fairly shallow, only about three feet will separate Gene from the surface... But it'll be an impossible distance to bridge for him.

"Nice knowing ya!" Johns calls down.

Then, the men pick up their shovels... And a second later, the first load of soil hits Gene's coffin. And another.*
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*In complete darkness Gene can't see what's happening, can barely even tell when the box is lifted up, what with the constant sense of swaying motion already in his injured head. But he feels the drop. The hard collision makes his whole body spasm, the shock reverberating through his broken ribs, his skull...And he lets rip another pain-soaked, frustrated yell.

But it's punctuated with that terrifying sound. Soil, hitting the lid. And again. And again. That's it - the sound he's really dreaded. The sound marking the absolute end. The last sound he'll ever hear, apart from his own dying breaths. In the depths of despair, Gene chokes again, battering against the lid with all his strength. It's useless.... But something in him, the animalistic part desperate for survival, it has to have this. This one last defiance.*
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*Once again, Gene's defiance is met with malicious laughter and jeering. The soil quickly starts blocking out the last of the light trickling into the box through the planks of wood, some of it making its way into the box itself. The air fills with the smell of it as well, soon to become overpowering.

The men work quickly. Half an hour is all it takes until the box is covered up entirely, the ground more or less even again. Johns spits on the small mound, and then the group turns and heads back to the barn, leaving DCI Gene Hunt to rot.

--

Finally, Sam's made it. He doesn't remember getting out of the car, but now he's stood in front of the barn that he knows serves as base for the gang. He can even hear them inside, laughing and joking.

That settles it.

Sam raises one leg, and rams his heel into the large wooden door.

It flies off its hinges with a loud bang.*
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*Another thump as more soil hits, then another, and another. One shovelful lands directly above Gene's face, specks falling down into his eyes through the wooden slits. And bit by bit, the very last of the light disappears. The soil's impacts slowly begin to sound more dull - further away, muffled. The lid starts to creak, weight pushing down on it, the overpowering scent of mud, soil and decay filling Gene's small makeshift coffin...

Mind in a complete frenzied panic, Gene has no idea how long it takes for the sounds above him to stop completely. But eventually, they do. There's a faint muffled thump, just barely audible - then another - pressing the soil down, maybe... Flattening it out, hiding the evidence of disturbed soil... then nothing. They've left.

Gene's alone. Underground, everything is still as death. But inside Gene's body it feels as though fireworks are going off. His heart thumps deafeningly loud in his ears joining the dreadful wheeze in his lungs. The walls are closing in. Pressing against his shoulders, smothering him. The darkness seems to press into his nose, his mouth, denying him the oxygen that he knows for a fact must still be there.

How long is this hell going to last? How long until the next breath he takes is in a vaccum? Until his lungs deflate, until his heart can't pump any harder, any faster?

Gene breathes shakily, unable to do anything but listen to his own body destroy itself with fear.

----------------------------------------------

Back at the base, Johns and the team are just arriving back. Riding on the high of just having killed the highest ranking officer in CID.

"Johnsy, you're gonna go down as a legend for this!"

"Yeah, did you see 'is face!? Should've taken a photo - frame it next your bed or summat!"

Laughing, they drop their shovels and disperse across the room, shaking mud off their hands and shoes.

"Should've put nails through the bottom as well! Stick 'im to it like velcro."

"Aww shit, you're right! Ahh well, too late now."

Johns shrugs his coat off with a snort and turns to Buster, who makes his way towards the door, coats in hand. Grin on his face, he opens his mouth to comment--

But then a gunshot.

No wait, not a gunshot-- the door!? it flies open at lightspeed, catching Buster right in the face. Johns watches in disbelief as the man sails backwards as though caught in an explosion and lands in a crumpled heap on the floor.

Furious, he looks up at the figure stood in the doorway, expecting to see an army of cops armed to the teeth. But... there's one man. One scrawny little man.What the--?

"WHO THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU!?"*
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Sam Tyler
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*Sam stares back at Johns, his eyes so intensely red that, in the dying light of the day, it looks as though they're glowing with fire. He pays the man he just knocked out cold no mind - Johns is his target.

Voice cold, Sam says*

Where's Hunt.
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*Johns can't believe his eyes. Who is this mouthy little dipshit!? Instinctively, Johns reaches for the shotgun he'd clobbered Hunt with only half an hour ago and points it at the centre of Sam's chest.

"You first, you ballsy little bastard! Who. Are. You!"*
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*Under normal circumstances, Sam would have flinched as Johns pointed the shotgun at him. He's alone, up against a gang of ruthless criminals.

But this isn't normal, and this isn't the old Sam. The vampire is flexing his muscles, and he knows exactly what can and can't hurt him. This metal stick? Pathetic.

Sam begins to walk into the barn, towards Johns. There's an edge to his voice as he repeats*

Where's. Hunt.
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*Johns can't believe his eyes. The man's walking straight towards him! And is that... is he wearing something red in his eyes!?

Confused, Johns takes a step back and raises the gun higher, lifting it forward until it's only inches away from Sam's forehead.

"Hunt don't exist any more, mate! He's dead as a doornail! Just like you're gonna be, you take another damned step!"*
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*One of Sam's eyes twitches at those words.

No. No, Johns is lying. He knows that with utter certainty. But it doesn't make him any less angry.

Sam doesn't stop. His hand shoots up, takes hold of the gun's barrel.

Bends it upwards as though it's made of rubber.

Then, Sam yanks the gun out of Johns' hands and throws it to the side. His mouth opens in a snarl, fangs glinting, eyes on the brink of turning feral.*

Where. Is. He.
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Gene Hunt
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[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
*Johns stands completely still, eyes wide as he watches the impossible feat in front of him - the gun barrel, twisted up like a rubber hose. Around him, he hears the alarmed gasps of his crew - the shuffle as they scrabble for their own weapons. They're seeing this too, then... its not just him...??

The gun is ripped from his hands, but he still doesn't move. This can't be real. This little pipecleaner, he can't possibly be this strong!

"Y-You're too late!! You'll never find 'im! Don't even remember exactly where we left 'im!"*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Johns changed his tone - Sam was right. He isn't too late yet.

Within the blink of an eye, Sam crosses the final distance between him and Johns, his hand curling around Johns' throat and squeezing. He completely ignores the movements around him, even as the other men get ready to fight him.*

... Last chance.
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Gene Hunt
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*As Sam's hand closes around Johns's throat a chorus of clicks and metallic sounds echo around the two. The rest of the men have surrounded them, handguns shakily pointed at Sam.

The realisation calms Johns slightly, even as Sam's fingers squeeze. The man'll be riddled with bullets should he try anything else.

"Mate! We left 'im in the woods! You try retracing your bloody steps out there, it's impossible! But you're welcome to go look! Just don't get your hopes up. Bloke's brains were practically dribbling out of 'is ears!"*
Edited by Gene Hunt, Nov 14 2017, 05:31 PM.
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*It shouldn't be possible, but Sam's glare grows even more intense at Johns' words.

He needs to hurry.

Sam lets go of Johns, then turns, fixing one of the other men with his stare, the one who's blocking his direct path out of the building.*

Out of my way.
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Gene Hunt
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*The man in front of the back door adjusts his aim shakily.

"Johns, you gonna let 'im just waltz off into the woods!? He clearly knows too much!"

Johns bites his lip, rubbing at his throat a moment. It's true. The guy knew where to find them, knew Hunt was here. He knows too much.

"Ahh, sod it. Take 'im down, boys."

Simultaneously, all guns cock - and then a deafening salvo of gunfire, bullets spraying towards Sam from all angles.*
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Sam Tyler
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*Sam knows what's going to happen. He can see it unfold, as if in slow motion.

As the guns cock, he ducks, faster than any of them can follow.

As the shots ring out, he launches himself towards the man in front of him, driving his fist into the man's abdomen with enough force to send him flying.

There's one impact to his shoulder, one somewhere on his back, but it doesn't phase Sam in the slightest. He whirls around, his elbow flattening the nose of the bloke who's now closest to him. If he has to take all of them out to get to Gene, so be it - he knows it won't take long.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Sam ducks so suddenly that he almost looks like a blur. The bullets meant to embed themselves in his chest fly through the air, thudding into the walls. And then all chaos breaks loose.

The first man is sent flying backwards, hitting the door with a loud bang. Another finds his face broken, his body discarded sideways like a rag doll. The remaining men shout in surprise, one rushing forward and wrapping his arms around Sam's neck from behind, trying to swing him backwards to the ground.*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Sam hears the man approach from behind - they're all slow, so pathetically slow. Sam could easily get behind this attacker before the man had a chance to even blink.

Instead, Sam grabs the man's arms and yanks them up and forward, as easily as if the bloke was a little child. The man goes sailing over Sam's head, his back hitting the ground a moment later with a sickening crack.

Sam turns, his eyes searching - who's left, apart from Johns?*
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Gene Hunt
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*The last man standing rushes forward, knife in hand - and plunges it into Sam's kidney from behind. The man's like a force of nature! But nobody could survive this! Nobody would remain standing for even a few seconds after this!

Johns has turned a funny shade of white watching the whole thing unfold. Shit, this guy...!

He sees the knife slide home and takes that as his chance - he turns and rushes for the door, kicking the body of his unconscious comrade aside as he does.*
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Sam Tyler
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*Sam feels an impact... But nothing more than that. And the man can't pull back fast enough to evade his counter attack.

Sam wheels around, his fist smashing into the side of the guy's face.

Then, the last one left standing is Johns. Sam can hear the panicked beat of his heart, his breathing. He catches up with Johns within a split second. His hand shoots out, grabbing onto the back of Johns' head - and Sam smacks Johns' face into the door right in front of them.

It hasn't even been a minute since the gunshots rang out.*
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Gene Hunt
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*it happens in slow motion. Johns feels Sam's fingers on the back of his head before he even manages to grip the doorknob. And then the hard wooden surface zooms into view. His face hits it with a crack, a scream leaving his lips along with a great glob of blood and a tooth.

He drops to the ground, one hand over his bleeding mouth and nose. Words muffled and toothy, Johns shouts.

"Wh-Who ARE you!?"*
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Sam Tyler
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*Sam just stares down at Johns for a moment, his eyes on the blood splattered all over the place.

Then he leans down, grabbing Johns' hair and pulling him up a few inches. His eyes are red as blood, his gaze so intense that it skirts insanity.

His voice is just as cold as earlier.*

DI Sam Tyler. And if you lied to me, you'll wish you'd never been born.

*With this, he smacks Johns' face back into the ground. Then he's through the door and out of the barn. The clock is ticking. He needs to find Gene.

The woods, Johns said. That's what Sam saw as well, in his vision. So he runs, faster than he's ever run in his life, his feet barely touching the ground. And he can see it, even as he runs - faint footsteps in the dirt, leading over to the small forest. He follows those tracks, noticing a peculiar smell as he goes - soil? Whatever it is, it's leading him in one particular direction.

A few minutes later, something tells Sam to slow down - and so he does. He's reached a clearing. It's empty. No sign of... Of anything.

What....?

Sam turns, first in one direction then the other, but... There's no one... They said they left Gene in the woods, and Sam's senses have lead him here... So... What...?!

Finally, despair starts to surface from underneath the anger. It makes Sam shout*

GENE?! GENE!!!

*He has to be somewhere here... He has to be....!!*
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene has given up. The air is stale, cloying. Stinking of wet mud and his own blood. He's slowly choking. It's hard to draw breath now. His lungs pull hard, the wheeze from his rib creaking painfully with every attempt. There's no oxygen left. The deep, doom-filled thuds of his heart are slowing, no life to carry in his blood.

He's shutting down.

Maybe this won't be so painful... Maybe it won't be full of choked, panicked gasps in the end... Maybe it'll be like this... A slow, numbing descent into nothingness. Maybe he'll just... Go to sleep... Go to sleep and not wake up...

As he hiccups for breath, Gene decides that's what he'd like. If he could just.... Go to sleep... Let himself fade away...

His heart thuds once again, loudly. Desperately. A booming, failing bass drum.*
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