Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Play Me Some More of that Old Blues ❯ Chapter 13 ( Chapter 13 )

 

 

Chapter 13

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Spike didn't move an inch, didn't blink as Hollis stood up from the desk and walked around the front to lean on the edge. His arms folded over his wide chest as he stared down at the younger man before him.

 

“Your boss was Mao Yenrai, wasn't he?”

 

Spike's eyes gave away nothing, but his head dipped down fractionally.

 

“I knew Mao, in fact, he was the one that told me I needed to get out of the business. It's funny, I know. The same corporation that urges you to quit is the same one that goes after you when you do.” Hollis studied his palm, heavy and calloused, and criss-crossed with lines and creases. “Billy, my boy, was just doing a favor for his old man that night. I'd cut my hand pretty badly you see, and wasn't able to work for a few days.” He clenched his fingers. “He didn't, he didn't feel much…”

 

Spike shifted as Hollis turned away. He averted his gaze to allow the older man a moment to regain his composure. When Hollis faced forward again, his eyes were dry, though red-rimmed.

 

“I confronted Mao… stupid thing to do I know. It gave my wife nightmares for a week when she found out. But, it turned out, Mao didn't order the attack after all. It was carried out by one of his associates, a man named Vicious.” Hollis glanced at Spike. “I take it you know him.”

 

Spike's eyes narrowed. `Damn you Vicious, are you going to haunt me in this life too?' He looked up at Hollis. “I knew him.”

 

The older man nodded. "Not only did you know him, you worked with him.. didn't you." Hollis looked down at Spike for a long time before he finally sighed, rubbing his face. "Mao wouldn't tell me who was involved with the explosion. For a long time, I was dumb enough to think he was protecting them. Took my wife to point out that, maybe, he was protecting me. One thing I did find out, was that Vicious did it on his own, outside of Mao's instructions, in an effort to impress the Elders."

 

Spike rubbed his eyes. With that single act, Vicious had shown his true nature to those he wanted to impress. He'd never truly grasped what it was to be a member of the Red Dragons. The Elders had seen the heart of a serpent when Vicious went after Hollis. Forever after, he had been branded.

 

"If it means anything to you now, Vicious is dead."

 

Hollis nodded, biting his lip. "It does. It does."

.

.

.

.

Mathis bit the tip of his tongue as his blood surged inside him. 'What a rush!' He nearly giggled. He could literally feel the tiny swarms as they flew through his body, restructuring, reinforcing, rebuilding. It was euphoric!

 

A short distance away, Wilde was bent over a microscope, studying the initial results of the injection. For one giddy moment, Mathis wondered what it would feel like to walk over to the snooty doctor, wrap his hands around his throat, and snap his neck.

 

He decided that it would feel pretty damn good.

 

Before he could stand, however, Wilde turned around, a look of concern on his face.

 

"Mr. Mathis, I think you should see this."

 

Andrew held out his hand, taking the readout from the doctor. Wilde stood to the side, fiddling with his watch nervously. Mathis read over the results a few times, then nonchalantly dropped the readout to the bed he was sitting on.

 

"Yeah, so what? Couple of elevated proteins, few altered brain waves. the whole point of this experiment was to cause change doctor, don't act shocked when it actually happens."

 

Wilde retrieved the readout, pointing out a few details as he spoke. "You seemed to have missed something here, these are not minor changes, these are drastic alterations in brain patterns. I don't yet know all the implications this will have on you. It could be anything from mood swings to dementia! For your own safety I'm going to recommend you be quarantined in a secure area until all the test results are in."

 

"No."

 

Wilde looked up, his brow furrowed. "Excuse me?"

 

Mathis kept his head down, staring at the floor. "No. I will not be locked away like some criminal. I will not be 'quarantined' like a miserable lab rat. I will leave here, of my own free will. And if you attempt to restrain me.. I'll rip your lungs out."

 

Wilde breathed in sharply as Mathis lifted his head. His eyes were large, and had a strange shine to them. His thin lips turned up at the edges, and his cheeks appeared flushed. Wilde took an involuntary step backward.

 

"Andrew, Mr. Mathis… I…” Wilde realized he had no idea what he wanted to say. At the back of his mind, it occurred to him that he needed to alert security. He had anticipated something like this could happen… he just didn't realize it could happen this quickly.

 

“I'm sorry doctor, I don't have time to chat. There are some men I need to speak to; they will be very interested to know that the procedure works.” Turning his back to the doctor, Mathis strode for the door.

 

Breaking free from his stupor, Wilde reached under the edge of the counter, fumbling for a second until his hand closed about the handle of the emergency tranquilizer gun he kept there. Whipping back around, he aimed the gun at Mathis's retreating back. The shot made a soft `WUPHT' as the dart was ejected. It struck Mathis just below his left shoulder blade. Without breaking stride, Mathis reached around and jerked the annoying deterrent from his back. “Nice try doctor, see ya later.”

 

Wilde didn't even notice when the gun slipped from his numb fingers.

.

.

.

.

Richard Caulder was returning to his office when his communicator buzzed at his hip. Reaching down, he thumbed the device on as he pushed through the large door. “Caulder here.”

 

“Uh, sir? This is Chris, Dr. Christopher Wilde.”

 

Mr. Caulder's eyebrow raised as he walked around his desk, pivoting his high-backed chair so he could sit down. “What can I do for you doctor?”

 

Wilde's voice was tight with agitation. “Sir, I, there's been a problem. I know you wanted to see the results of the testing as badly as I, but I really think this was a… bad move, if you can forgive my saying so.”

 

Caulder sat forward in his chair. “Wilde, I'm not sure what you're getting at…”

 

“He took off, the injection reacted in, well, the worst possible way, and he ran.”

 

Caulder's fingers tightened around the communicator. “Dr. Wilde, who, what are you talking about, who did you inject?”

 

There was silence for a moment as the doctor processed the question. Finally, he spoke, his voice hollow. “You didn't order the testing.”

 

Mr. Caulder stood. “What testing?”

 

Wilde's voice was a ragged whisper. “Oh God…”

.

.

.

.

Mrs. Hollis was setting out dessert plates when Spike and Bill retuned.

 

“Hey, you guys enjoy your chat?”

 

Bill looked up at his wife, who had an odd smile on her face. `Never can keep anything from that woman', he thought bemusedly.

 

“Yes, yes we did.” He replied honestly as he sat down across from Spike.

 

Spike regarded the dish of ice cream with trepidation. Already, his stomach was feeling tight from the meal earlier. With regret, he pushed the bowl away. “Sorry, my doctor has me on strict orders…. which I've already ignored twice. I gotta pass.”

 

Leona's face creased with concern. “Oh no, did I serve you something I shouldn't have?”

 

Spike smiled. “Nah, nothing I can't handle. Thanks for dinner. I hate to cut the evening short, but I should probably get going.”

 

Bill stood with Spike. “Are you sure? Leona and I have lots of room, we'd be more than happy to have you stay here.”

 

Spike resisted the impulse to give in. A soft bed was very tempting, and he did not look forward to returning to the shabby hotel room. However, he shook his head. “Thanks, but I should really get back. Don't want to be wandering these streets after dark.”

 

Leona shot her husband a look, her eyes pleading.

 

Bill stuck his hands in his pockets. “Listen, Spike, are you sure I can't get you to change your mind? I understand if you feel uncomfortable, but, well, as you can imagine, we don't get guests very often…”

 

Leona stepped forward, her hazel eyes shining. “Please stay, the guest bedroom is well furnished, and you look like you haven't slept well, if you'll pardon me saying so.”

 

Spike's eyes shifted back and forth between the two earnest stares. And, like before in the bar, he found himself unable to coax the energy forth to fight. With a sigh, he plopped down in his chair again. “Alright, fine. But you owe me a good breakfast tomorrow.” He said, throwing Leona half a smile.

 

She grinned brightly in return. “I'll go get some fresh sheets. The room will be ready in just a minute.”

 

After she had gone, Spike looked up at Bill with a trace of wonder. “How on earth do you win any arguments with her?”

 

Bill looked down, a frown on his face and a slight shine in his eyes. “Who says I do?”

.

.

.

.

One by one the reports came in. No sign of Andrew Mathis anywhere. Richard Caulder could have beaten his head against the wall for being the fool. He should have suspected something. Going back through correspondence, both phone records and electronic communiqué, he discovered that over the past four months, Mathis had been in contact with both a military organization and two high-ranking syndicates. He had enticed them into a bidding war over the new nano-technology, promising exclusive rights and development to whoever came out on top. So far, the military was in the lead.

 

Caulder sat back from the screen, his face ashen. After a moment, he tapped on his communication screen. The nervous face of Dr. Wilde appeared on the other end.

 

“Anything new?”

 

Wilde rubbed his forehead, his face shiny with sweat, even though the lab was kept a steady 60 degrees Fahrenheit. “No, nu- nothing yet, I'm sorry to say. Sir, if I'd only known…”

 

“Thank you Wilde, that will be all.” Caulder flipped off the screen with an angry jerk.

 

“Damn it Mathis…” He muttered, his face burning with a mixture of rage and fear. After a moment, he pushed himself away from his desk. He needed to think, and the best place to do that was in the East wing, where his son lay comatose, waiting for the miracle technology that would save his life. He only hoped Mathis hadn't destroyed that chance.

 

It would be twenty minutes before Caulder would think to have security check on subject C. By then, it was too late.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.