Do Or Die

Chapter 7

Viktor found it terribly disturbing that he had to fight for his composure  He stared at his wife, lying unconscious on the gurney. His wife's skin, the color of dark chocolate, had lost its luster and was now ashen. Her cheeks were sunken; her lips dry, and cracked. She wore a hospital robe that did nothing to veil the fact that she was bare beneath. A catheter had been connected to her bladder and was strapped to the inside of her right thigh.  

Viktor's teeth gnashed together.  His breathing quickened harshly. He raised his fisted hands to pound either side of his head.

Get a grip man, get a fuckin' grip...

She looked so small where she lay. At five feet, two inches, most men towered above her.

She was so small, so innocent – in all of this...Don't lose it, man!

Her scalp is what sent him over the edge. Her bare head was exposed and her soft, relaxed hair was nonexistent. Viktor stared, unresponsive. Her head had been shaved.

 They cut off her hair?!

Viktor's nails bit painfully into his palms; his chest ached as he tried hard to catch his breath. His shoulders trembled. Closing his glistening eyes, he held his breath and begged himself to remain calm. Then his eyes fluttered open to focus on her peaceful face. They travelled down to rest on her hands. Finally, he touched her, holding her soft, small hand...

Where's her ring?

There was movement at the doorway, causing Viktor to take heed. An Asian man of medium height and frail build, balding and wearing wire-thin frames, stood in the doorway looking as though his heart had stopped beating the moment he entered the room. The young, golden-haired nurse, who rivaled the old man in height, looked just as pale, leaving Viktor to come to one conclusion - they were both shocked stupid.

Viktor's eyes searched theirs for a brief moment before the nurse's fear of his silent warning got the better of her. She dropped the medical chart she was carrying, whirled around, and bolted out the door. In the entryway she darted to her left, but the strange snarling arrested her, and she turned to discover a menacing creature advancing towards her. She screamed, staggering backwards before the werewolf jumped her.

Viktor's attention was not caught by the happenings just beyond the entryway. His eyes were still on the little man before him, whom he assumed was the person in charge of this operation. He looked familiar, in his common, dull grey slacks and equally dull shirt, his shoes well-worn. His appearance was belied by the cocky glint in his eyes. His hand rose to slip his wire frames down the slender ridge of his large, crooked nose. He gave Viktor a once over that spoke volumes of his calm demeanor. Viktor was further taken aback by the guy's nonchalant behavior.

Did he not know his life was doomed to end right here-right now?

"Mr. Maxckmillian, I dare say, out of the many countless scenarios I may have manufactured to have to deal with, none of them included you. You often restrain yourself above your wife's activities, I thought us once to never meet." The little man then pushed the glasses, which were too refined for his deeply-creased features, back atop the bend on his nose.

Viktor's head cocked sideways, and he sighed. Holding his wife's hand with his left hand, he reached to his side for Hell's Embrace with his right. The weapon hummed as he decided to go slow with this one. The nuts cracked easily...at least for Viktor...

But he might not be the figurehead. There might be others involved, and he needed to find them and destroy them all the same.

Viktor kept his eyes on the dainty man. His eyes focused on him, he squinted. He figured he knew him, most certainly his voice sounded familiar...