by Jack Parker
Emery jammed the gun harder into Sheridan's back, drawing a grunt. "Suppose I am willing to compromise. Suppose my compromise is that Thompson gives me my associates and I give him his. I'll trade your life for theirs."
Sheridan clearly stiffened, eyes meeting Emery's.
"What's the matter, Casey?" Emery growled softly. "You don't think he'll buy in? Think instead that he'll let me do as I like to you if it means getting what he wants, even after all you've done for him?"
Sheridan just sneered again.
"Then you can really whinge to me about ingratitude."
"Don't get so fucking smug with me," Sheridan snapped, face ticking when he glanced back at him. "You don't know dick about me or what I do here. You've been doing this what? Two years now? I've been in this business for sixteen goddamn years. Since before you ever even had so much as a wet fucking dream. I practically made crime in this city. I made this whole fucking operation. You think any of this shit would be possible without me?"
"Who are you trying to convince?"
Sheridan clenched a fist as he walked. "And who are you, huh? You think you're hot shit? You think that you and I are any different? Nah. Nah, you were nothing once too, remember? Before that loaded step-daddy of yours came along. When your dirt-poor, dumb-fuck parents pushed out little Emery no-name and no one gave two shits about it. You were born a nobody, just like CJ Barclay. But when you took that new name you got a second shot at life. You reinvented yourself; you're rich, famous, powerful, and now? Now you could be goddamn invincible on top of it all. …But no. No, you wanna go all the way back to the gutter just so you can say you've got 'morals'. It's pathetic."
"And you'd know all about pathetic, wouldn't you?" Emery jabbed back. "You're advocating for a man who specializes in manipulation. A man who takes care to uncover what makes a person tick and is sure to offer them whatever he sees they're most wanting in exchange for their cooperation. And what do you think he saw when he picked you apart? What did he see you were wanting, hm?"
Sheridan glanced at him skeptically and said nothing.
Emery shoved him again and scanned the hallway for any sign of life. "Perhaps he saw your desire for revenge. Perhaps he saw your ties with Beletski. Or perhaps he saw your desperate, juvenile need to feel important. Like you're one of the big shots. But he doesn't view you that way…no. Like me, you're just a tool to him. You haven't made it anywhere, Sheridan. You've climbed no ranks, you've leapt no hurdles, you've bested no odds. All you've done is bent a knee to a tyrant on pain of death and convinced yourself it was your own idea. I can't think of anything more pathetic than that."
This time Sheridan seemed like he was holding back a jittering case of the giggles. "It doesn't matter. It doesn't fucking matter!"
"Shut it."
"Oh god are you dumb!" Sheridan continued to cackle. "What is your plan, anyway? Are you gonna try and threaten him? Intimidate him? Well ya can't!"
"I said keep your bloody voice down," Emery warned.
Sheridan stopped in his place defiantly. "This guy was wrapping London around his finger while you were still sucking your mommy's tit—do you really think one gun to his head is gonna make a shred of difference? I don't know what Kurt's been teaching you, but you don't have a goddamn clue."
"Walk," Emery ordered.
Sheridan was still twitching, anxious and excited, angry and beguiled all at once, his drug in full effect. "I could scream, you know. Really fuck you over. One little scream and there'd be so many guys on your ass it'd be like Christmas for you, huh you fucking faggot?"
"Do and it'll be your last," Emery promised.
"Bullshit," Sheridan challenged. He turned, looking down at Emery's gun and then back to him. "You know you're fucked if you do. You'll never find Scott without me—you'll wander these halls like a blind rat just long enough to get shot."
Emery glanced around and shook his head, gripping Sheridan by the front of the shirt and gesturing to the far wall. "You already told me that they're in the medical bay. What's that sign say there?"
Sheridan turned and gawked at the sign mounted on the wall. Medical bay, with an arrow pointing down the hall. "…Ah, shit."
"Seems I don't need you after all."
"Okay…well uh, wait—" Sheridan attempted to back track, but Emery flung him forward, making him stumble to catch himself until they arrived at the medical bay's door. Sheridan backed away from Emery, who was still brandishing his gun. "Alright, kid, you win," he conceded, hands held up.
"Brilliant," he replied coldly, then looked to him and held up his weapon. "Any last words?"
Sheridan's eyes widened. "What?"
"Last words. You know…any last insults about my stupidity? My ignorance? My sexuality, perhaps?"
"Hey, listen…"
"Just those two, then?"
For a long moment they faced off, Sheridan staring with budding fear as he absorbed the sincerity in Emery's eyes. This wasn't ideal, but he didn't know what else to do. Casey Sheridan had to die. If they somehow all made it out of this he would come for them again, he would find a way to exact that revenge he felt so entitled to. He was a menace and there was simply no logical justification for letting him live. Even still, Emery's finger hesitated on the trigger. Then Sheridan bolted, and his decision was made for him.
Emery fired almost instinctively the moment his eye sensed movement. Sheridan was hit in the thigh, toppling to the ground and skidding to a halt with a cry of pain. He cringed on the floor, howling in agony, beating his fist against the tile. "Are you fucking kidding me!?" he snarled. "The same fucking leg, are you serious!?"
Emery pursed his lips and slowly wandered over to stand above him, gun still aimed.
"Ah fuck, no, wait! Wait!" Sheridan yelped, grimacing and holding up a hand. "This isn't you, kid, you—y-you got morals, remember? Right? I'm defenseless here!"
Emery shook his head. "This is a mercy killing. I think you'll find it far kinder than whatever your boss had in store for you once you'd outlasted your use."
"Come on, lighten up for Christ's sake!" Sheridan pleaded. "What's any of this got to do with me? I mean really got to do with me? I'm not the one running this outfit!"
"You're the one who cost Kurt his finger."
Sheridan balked. "The goddamn nutjob did that himself!"
"You've twice now clocked me in the face."
"Wh—killing me is kind of an overdramatic escalation, don't you think?!"
"You've threatened to kill Kurt, more than once, and I believe you mean to do it."
Sheridan's breath was quickening, bloodshot eyes scouring the surrounding area for some nonexistent escape route. "Look…look, maybe letting him live ain't a dealbreaker, alright? None of you really gotta die. I can forgive and forget."
"You've thoroughly proven yourself incapable," Emery said gravely. "This is the cost of your hubris, Casey. At every turn you were given the opportunity to forgive and forget. To compromise. To end this. You could have let Kurt and I be, but you refused. Instead you concocted this elaborate bloody plot and abducted him when you could have just left him where he was and it wouldn't have made a damned difference to your operation in the slightest."
"Okay, so I'm a bastard. I admit it. I'm sorry, I'm s—is that what you wanna hear? That I'm sorry?"
"Two years ago you would be dead if Kurt hadn't decided to spare you. That was your first chance. You could have taken the money and run, but you had to have it your own way. The only difference between then and now is that I'm not Kurt. And even if I were, I wouldn't make the same mistake twice."
Sheridan's eyes stopped darting around and locked with his in desperation. How pitiful he looked then. Strung out, panting, bleeding. But this man had no pity himself. He had no remorse. He had no conscience, and he would go to the ends of the earth to maintain his grudge. Emery was dismayed to find that there suddenly seemed to be no sympathy in his heart…but it did make this easier. "Fuck, look…don't do this. Be a bigger man, huh
?"
"Bigger men just make bigger targets. You taught me that."
"Shit. I-I'm not…fuck, do you really want me to beg here?"
"Only if you prefer to die on your knees."
"You're being fucking ridiculous!" Sheridan screeched, panic setting in. "There's no reason to fucking kill me, Eaton! No fucking reason at all! You don't have to do this!"
"No," Emery agreed, holding his gaze humorlessly. "…I just really, really want to."
Sheridan gaped, then his eyes filled up with rage.
Emery fired a shot point blank into Sheridan's head. His body slumped back down, splayed out on the tile, eyes still wide with the echo of stunned anger. Blood began to cascade from the wound down his face and all was quiet. Emery stared at him for a few more seconds before kicking his stomach soundly to ensure that this was the last time Casey Sheridan ever came for him. The body flopped lifelessly and Emery stepped back. Then he rushed into the medical bay with his gun raised.
When he entered he quickly saw the two men on the tables. Luckily no one else was in the room with them. Victor craned his head back in shock and stared at Emery with a series of disbelieving blinks. "Oh my god—Em?"
"Ohuyet," Ludkov muttered in surprise.
Emery rushed over and began to tear at Victor's bindings. "Some plan, you bleeding idiot!" Emery snapped in relief. "Did you really think I'd just leave you here to rot?"
Victor continued to stare at him incredulously as his arms were freed. "I thought maybe Kurt'd be able to beat some sense into you, yeah. Fuck, you shouldn't have come here, Em."
"And you shouldn't have run off." Emery pulled the straps of his legs emphatically.
"But how the hell did you get back—"
"It's a lovely story and I'll regale you with pleasure, but not now," Emery breathed, wrenching away the last of his bindings.
Victor sat up fast. "Ah, Jesus. Let's hurry it the fuck up then. Sheridan's still lurking around out there."
Emery shook his head as he jumped over to Ludkov's table. "No, he isn't. Not anymore."
Victor paused. "He's dead?"
Emery nodded. "Authentically this time."
"Damn, dude."
"Get out. Watch the door while I get him free," Emery jerked his head towards the door and Victor leapt off the table to obey instantly.
"You are wasting your time," Ludkov said, staring at Emery with an unreadable intensity. "Even if you free me I cannot run."
Emery glanced at Ludkov's leg and didn't stop in his efforts to loosen the nearest strap. "Then you'll hobble."
Ludkov continued staring at him, but quickly pulled his arm away and began to undo the straps on the other while Emery moved to his legs.
A noise behind him made him jump to attention, heart in his throat. He whipped around just in time to see that a second door at the other end of the medical bay had opened and gunmen were suddenly pouring in. His stomach plummeted, head turning quickly back to the door, but thankfully Victor was just outside and couldn't be seen. He looked back as guns were all trained to his head and he slowly raised his arms. Ludkov let out a quiet growl and eased his hand away from his restraints.
Emery set his jaw as he stared insolently at the men approaching him. "Throw your weapon," one demanded.
Emery's eyes flicked again to the other exit before he slowly complied.
* * *
Victor bit his inner cheek hard as he pressed himself up against the wall, listening carefully through the doorway to his immediate left while armed men surrounded Emery and Ludkov inside. His mind raced, sprinting for a viable option. At his feet was—damn, Sheridan's body alright. He quickly crouched down and began to frisk the corpse for anything of use. Apart from a vile of coke, however, he was unarmed. On the other side of the wall Victor could hear more men shuffling into the room and suddenly there were more footsteps coming from the hallway he was now hiding in. He clenched his jaw and lunged at the door directly across from him, praying that the room on the other side was empty.
Fortunately when he opened it he found it to be a deserted lab. He slipped in quickly and shut the door behind him to listen for the approaching men. Fuck. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. Emery was supposed to be the fuck out of Dodge by now. Where the hell were Kurt and Georgie? Victor wished he'd had the foresight to ask before Emery got snatched. He thumped his fist against the wall quietly in frustration as he thought. This was all on him now. He'd have to find a way to get Em out of there fast. Men would be scouring this facility for him any second now, so he knew he'd better really live up to his reputation of sound plans this time around. His eyes raked over the contents of the room, but there was nothing useful in here. His sweep landed on another door on the other side of the room and he went to it hastily. A weapon. He just had to find a weapon.
When Victor eased the door open he found that it led to another hallway. He hung back as a group of men marched by, then hurriedly slid out and began making his way in the opposite direction. He gently tried the handle of the next door to find it locked before he was forced to trek on. Okay, so this was a laboratory, but it was also an armed super-villain's headquarters. The guy had to have some sort of gun stash around here, but where? Doubtfully the labs…but up top there were probably offices, store rooms, shit like that. Of course floor three also seemed to be where the highest concentration of the Dutchman's men still lingered. But his only choice was to brave it—if he didn't find a way to get that kid out of there fast then the Dutchman would have exactly what he wanted, no leverage or negotiations needed, and they were all majorly fucked. Victor steeled his nerves and made his way to where he knew the elevator to be.
He crept around a corner and looked out, seeing no one. He kept close to the wall as he approached it and hit the arrow repeatedly, eyes locked onto the hallway in preparation for someone to appear, but fortunately the doors opened before anyone saw him and he skidded inside hurriedly before jamming the third floor a good ten times. He heard footsteps drawing closer just as the doors began to shut. He squashed himself against one side nervously before he was sealed from view within.
Victor didn't truthfully know what he would do even if he did have a gun. Bust in there like Rowdy Roddy Piper and level the room with a semi-automatic? Somehow that didn't seem like a practical option. Fuck, for all those impressive IQ points why couldn't he just think? The doors of the elevator opened moments later and he knew he'd better pull a card from Emery's deck and improvise. Somehow.
The elevator was tucked in the corner of another long hall on the third floor and Victor could immediately hear the bursting of gunfire, the shouting of orders, and the clattering of boots on tile. They were quickly coming in his direction, however, and he was forced to move before he knew where he was going. He scrambled from the source of the sound and slid around a corner, eyes darting about. An office door lay ajar but the lights were off inside and he immediately rushed in, hiding behind the door just as a group of men brushed past his location. He peered out at their backs for a moment before checking that the hall was again clear and jogging down to try and find something, anything that looked like it might house weaponry. He pulled open a supply closet to find nothing but janitorial equipment and sighed roughly before his eyes landed on the door nearby. It was unmarked, but looked important. Through the blinds of a glass panel near the doorway he could see that it was a rather large office. Everything in it was straight and orderly; the only furniture besides a few white cabinets was a desk near the windows with stacks of paper sitting on top. This room was definitely still in use. He took one more look around before slipping inside.
He instantly went to the desk. It was covered in files and otherwise suspicious documents, some of which Victor sifted through to find what looked like a bunch of financial records and legal documents that had nothing to do with pharmaceuticals. Lots of shit was being reviewed here. He began to suspect that he was currently standing in the Dutchman's very own office. He looked around in paranoia before snap
ping out of it and rededicating himself to his mission. He turned to a cabinet that looked well-suited for guns behind the desk and wrenched it open, but it wasn't guns he found. It was drugs. All sorts. Mostly painkillers like morphine, hydrocodone, and a veritable shit-ton of heroin alongside an equally well-stocked shelf of naloxone, an opiate antagonist most likely kept in case of overdose. It looked like a personal stash. Victor supposed he'd been right with his guess the first time around—this guy definitely had a serious self-medicating issue.
Still, no weapons. Victor turned back to the desk and yanked open the drawers to try and find a gun, but only came up with a case full of pristine syringes. He swore quietly, planting his hands on the desk's surface and scanning the room again to try and think where else to look. Then he paused, looking back down at the syringes before his head whipped around to the drug supply cabinet and a plan quickly began to take shape.
* * *
Emery looked around him with caution as men fixed the restraints over his body, leaving him lying on the table next to Ludkov. One leaned over into his space. "The other man. Where did he go?"
Emery glared up at him brazenly. "What other man?"
The thug above him gave a dull sneer and straightened up. "Doesn't matter. We'll find him." He gestured to the other men and they all filed out of the room. Emery could see that two of them remained just outside to guard the door this time. He tested his bindings and leaned back, lips pursed in frustration. He hoped that Victor would run. He had to know that there was nothing to be done here—he had to know that he was dead if he was found now that Emery was captured.
"Victor was right," Ludkov said beside him. "You should not have come back."
All things considered, Emery was plenty tired of having his every action criticized. "I didn't have a choice. No decent man would have, given the facts, so unless you've got something helpful to add, kindly shut it."