Agents of Charmed

Chapter 4

       A commotion could be heard in the hallway, closing in on the room. Reinforcements.
But Chris paid no attention. He was watching the scene in front of him, holding his breath.
Hive gazed around at Wyatt's shield with mild curiosity, "This is...interesting. But you are on the wrong side of your force-field, you know."
Wyatt shifted Excalibur's weight in his hand. "It's not for me," he sneered.
"You already know that doesn't work on me. I see why Grant Ward hated you. You're really not the bright—"
Hive was cut off by Wyatt running him through with the sword. He sank to his knees with a guttural cry of pain and surprise. "I'm not the brightest, no, but while these three were scheming, Simmons and I were too," Wyatt released the hilt and let Hive fold forward, "Excalibur is powerful on her own, but when outfitted with a potion, she'll pack an even greater punch. And we made this one especially for you, poured right on the blade. Think of it like a magic antivirus, perfect for a parasite."
Hive forced himself back up to his knees, and Chris could see his face had turned a sickly gray color, his cheeks were sunken in.
"Simmons is better at explaining this part, but basically Ward's body is returning to it's dead state, so your vessel will be no longer compatible with you. It won't kill you, but you'll need a new meat suit,"
"I'll need a new meat suit, is that right?" despite his decaying vessel, Hive was grinning. Wyatt hadn't noticed yet, but Chris' blood ran cold. He banged one fist on the shield.
"No matter. I found the perfect one. One much more powerful than I even expected," the last few words were almost drown in a few agonized groans as Hive drew Excalibur from his gut and plunged it into an unsuspecting Wyatt's chest.
The elder Halliwell's face only registered shock. "WYATT!" Chris hammered both fists on the force field now. The next moment a pair of arms wrapped around his middle and dragged him backwards. He beat at the arms, flailing like a child.
"Chris, stop fighting me!" May's voice grunted in his ear.
"Let go of me! Wyatt! Leave him alone!"
As he watched, Wyatt dropped to his knees in front of Hive. The parasite opened it's mouth and smoke poured out—no, it was a cloud of what looked like insects, flooding out of Grant Ward's still decomposing corpse and down Wyatt's throat. An expression of complete calm washed over the Halliwell's face and it was clear Hive had taken over. He climbed to his feet, twisting his head this way and that to stretch his neck, then lazily reached down and pulled Excalibur from his chest.
The barrier dropped. Chris' flailing intensified. "Stop fighting me!" May said again, "He'll kill you!"
"I don't care! Get out of him!"
"Goodbye, Christopher," Hive said, serenely, using his brother's voice, before orbing out.
With a scream of exertion from Chris, May was thrown back against the wall. The younger Halliwell orbed out, following the Inhuman. He reappeared on the roof, almost pitching off the side. In front of him, Hive floated in mid-air, Wyatt's orbs dancing around him. Blood still flowed freely from his chest where he had been stabbed, but he paid it no mind. He laughed, then feigned disappointment, "And here I so hoped you'd fall to your death."
Chris sneered, "Get the hell out of my brother, you bastard."
"I think I'll be keeping this body. He did ruin my last one—it's only fair. But you could always join me so you can stay together. It's clear I took control of the more powerful brother, but I can find use for you too. I find you intriguing,"
"You know Terogenesis doesn't work on me,"
"You think all of my henchman are under my control? My followers follow me for a multitude of reasons. It doesn't really matter to me why,"
"You're sick,"
"By human standards maybe. But I am above that. We both are, aren't we?"
"Wyatt! If you can hear me, you have to fight him!"
"Your brother is dead, boy. He can't hear you,"
Chris ignored, giving a mirthless laugh, "You're going to led this overgrown termite infestation ride your ass, man? That's pretty pathetic, even for you!"
This time, Hive didn't reply and of course, neither did Wyatt. Chris shrugged, "Guess I'll beat you out of him."
"How will you do that when I'm all the way over here? Don't hurt yourself—you could still be useful,"
Chris scoffed, "You think I can't do that too?"
He took a step to push off the roof, when the sound of gunfire stopped him. May and Fitz burst out of the stairwell behind him, firing. Only, it was just May who was firing at Hive with live ammo. Fitz met eyes with Chris and got him point blank in the face with a night-night pistol. Everything went black.

          Chris woke up in a panic, crying out for his brother. The world was spinning, but he tried to sit up anyway. He felt a pair of hands on him and heard Jemma's voice, "Chris, lie back down."
           "What the hell?!" he said, instead, pushing her out of the way, "You shot me?! You let Hive get away with Wyatt."
           "And you almost got yourself killed," a third voice said. Coulson was storming up to him—at least Chris thought he was—the older man was walking at a slant.
           "For the last time, I'm not one of your damn soldiers," he garbled, standing up and immediately tipping sideways. He leaned heavily on Jemma.
            "No, my agents know when they're outgunned. You almost attacked Hive head-on. He would have annihilated you and we would have lost the both of you,"
            "Now sit back down, please," Jemma insisted, before Chris could argue.
             The Halliwell sat, then shrugged at Coulson, "So then, whats your genius plan to get my brother back?"
              The lab fell to a cold, awkward silence. "What?"
              Jemma put a hand on his shoulder, "Chris, Wyatt—well, he's dead. Hive killed him and took his body."
              "I know. I was there,"
              "What she means to say, Chris, is that the plan isn't to get Wyatt back," Coulson said, colder, "He's gone. The priority is still to kill Hive."
               "What?" Chris said, weakly, "That's it? You're just giving up."
               "I'm so sorry," Jemma said, quietly.
               "No," Chris brushed her off and stood up, striding, only somewhat steadily to the door, "No, you can give up on him if you want, but I'm not."