Bridge Jumper Comes Back To Life For Help: The Century Curse

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Ian's arms rested atop the cold steel table surface, just as they did before. But this same table resided in another room. The surface of the one he'd left in the other room sat stained red and covered in warm blood pools. Unfortunately, he couldn't compare the silence of the two rooms, his ears still ringing from the glock-22 dispensing a round into Diana's skull right in front of him. The echoes of the explosion bouncing off the walls left his head pounding.

Ian wasn't much of a fan of over the counter drugs, but he'd take a pain reliever right about now. His forehead met the table top, cooling his frontal lobe, but this did little in the sense of ease. Latching onto the front of his shirt, he wiped his lips, and drooled into it. There wasn't a box of tissues, nor any substitute, but he had to keep salivating if he wanted any chance of getting the taste of iron out of his mouth. The image of Diana's dying body falling into him flashed before his eyes. The blood spurting from the exit wound will haunt him the rest of his life.

His brain couldn't calculate the disturbance he should've felt at that moment. All he remembered doing was looking over at Reity, vomit spewing between the webs of her fingers as she covered her mouth. The three of them collapsed to the floor simultaneously. Ian bathed in blood and brain matter, and the detective, soaked in her own bile. Not long after, other officers and detectives came in covered in the same green gunk Diana burst into the room with. They helped them up and carried Ian off to the next interrogation room over, where he now sat and dwelled on these horrific images.

When he wasn't thinking of the visual horror, he was mulling over how and why Diana was even there in the first place. Ian didn't expect to see her soft white face revealed as the one behind that gas mask.

Gas mask?

His thoughts staggered on that. Ian visually scanned her entirety in his mind. The only other detail that stuck out as unusual, was the green stains on her clothes.

Gas mask and green dust? Did she...?

He was finding himself more certain of the situation she'd caused to find him. The conclusion being that the gas mask protected her from some kind of gas. But, if she needed the carbon filters to pass through the building, the substance must've filled each and every room. Spiraling into the next piece of the puzzle, this lingering smell in his nostril. It wasn't the smell of iron, nor the gunpowder still tickling his nose hairs.

Vinegar? Or maybe something with an acidic twang scent like vinegar.

The only things he could think of were deterrent gasses usually used for crowd control. The words tear and gas clouded his mind, while the wafting memory and the pungent smell pricked his senses relentlessly. Ian knew the conclusion he was coming to seemed unthinkable, but it had to be true. And for a girl who had fear of death, but knew she'd return from it shortly after, she'd have nothing to lose pulling off something like that.

A raid on the station...?

It was crazy, unthinkable even, but he's thinking of it. Maybe Diana did too, and if not her, then Citrus. But he couldn't decipher why she'd even pull a stunt like this. Suddenly, worry consumed every thought in his head like a bacteria devouring cells. Anytime she'd died in his proximity, she healed within a minute. Though she remained unconscious within some kind of recovery state, she'd still completely heal nonetheless.

What was she thinking?! They're gonna see her healing powers, and who knows what they'll do after that!

Ian's body shook, a reaction of adrenaline telling him to act on this feeling of concern, but he knew there's nothing he could do. He brought his fists up to his face, before laying them back down, the tips of his fingers dancing on the metal surface. His body begged him to stand, to pace, to run along the walls in desperation. But, as his feet stilled their tapping and flattened on the floor, the door flew open.