Agent 38: I Never Forgot You

Chapter 44: Obitus

     (Rough translation: final day.)

    
     For a moment, Alex sat paralyzed with fear in the corner of the room, his breath caught in his throat. Before him was the man who'd taken his friends, his family; the man who had plucked them out of his life one by one as if he were some omniscient higher power.
     Pure hate coursed through his veins, intertwined with horrible grief and sadness. He felt his hearts speed up as his fingers twitched with restlessness, eager to fight, eager to win, eager to die victorious. He'd make him regret. He'd make him regret ever laying a finger on his family.
     However, despite the noise he had made, Gabriel kept walking towards his desk, his head bent down as he glared at a paper in his hand. Silence filled the room, and it took him a minute to realize that the man had headphones on.
     Gabriel turned towards the window at the back of the room, seemingly still unaware of his presence. Alex, seizing the opportunity, slowly pushed off the wall and inched forward, his fingertips brushing the ground. He felt a rush of adrenaline panging around his hearts, familiar and sickening; the desire to fight anything that dared oppose him, knowing with sure and certain confidence that he would win. Nothing would stand in his way– nothing could.
     Not anymore.
     Alex rose to standing, hearts pounding, ink rushing past his ears as he stepped closer and closer to Gabriel. He promised himself one thing:
     I will not stop until justice has been served. I don't care what happens. If I go down, he's coming with me. I'm getting the last laugh. Not him. Me.
     Suddenly the man turned, and before he could react, Alex shoved him as hard as he could into the wall. A piece of the window shattered, clinking to the ground.
     Gabriel screamed as he hit the ground. "What the hell are you doing here?"
     Alex, brandishing his fists like swords, cried, "finishing the job."
     He raised his arms, and with a shriek that should've shook the mountains themselves, brought them down onto Gabriel's stomach with as much force as possible.
     The Octoling let out a breathless cry, sheer realization shining in his eyes. Suddenly Gabriel grabbed Alex's head and threw him to the side, the ground toppling out from under him.
     "How did you get out?" the man screamed, lunging for a quintet of rings on his desk.
     Alex pushed himself up from the floor, already fatigued. "Get better doors," he hissed.
     He watched as Gabriel fastened the rings around his fingers; heavy and studded with gems of a thousand colors, glistening with violence just as the Octoling's eyes were.
     Alex raised his fists, guarding his face, not daring to blink as Gabriel stepped forward, then broke into a stride, and then a full-tilt run. His mind, so fogged, didn't realize what was happening before it was far too late, and the man jumped up and struck him so hard he saw stars.
     He swung back blindly, blinking fast, feeling sweat gather at his brow. Alex swayed away from Gabriel's fist and spun around, taking hold of the man's arm and hurling him over his shoulder and into the floor.
     He dropped down and slammed a hand onto Gabriel's chest, holding him down as he sent his fist into the man's face, over and over and over again. Alex spent a long time there, beating out his angers, his troubles, his insecurities on their source. Each blow carried another burst of grief and fury; how dare he? How dare he take everything away from him?
     He felt his knuckles begin to bleed with every strike, and then Gabriel's hand flew out to his side with a yell and Alex watched as his fingers closed around the shard of glass from the window, and suddenly he knew what would happen before he even had the time to react.
     Alex tried to push away, hands flying up to defend himself, and then Gabriel's hand was gripping his collar and his other was sinking the glass into his shoulder blade.
     Suddenly the whole world went silent as he fell back, all his senses going numb and his eyes flaring wide. He hit the ground before he could right himself, the cement pushing the blade in deeper as agony panged around his body with the force of a bullet.
     And then the world came rushing back as he shrieked, gripping his shoulder, tears of pain springing into his eyes. He watched Gabriel stagger to his feet, his face bloodied and ink pouring from his nose, manic satisfaction burning in his eyes as he heaved in quick breaths.
     Alex dragged himself away, gasping, begging for the strength to stand. He could feel ink oozing down his back and shuddered.
     "I'm going to enjoy killing you," Gabriel snapped, an awful smile parting his bleeding lips.
     He forced the words out past his numb tongue. "I wouldn't bet on it."
     Gabriel let out a yell, brows descending in rage, and spun to face the desk. He glanced at his rings and back to the wood, then slammed his knuckles into it, each blow sounding harder than the last.
     At first, Alex thought, wow. He really did lose it.
     And then he saw chunks of the desk cracking off in lethally sharp pieces, shards of Gabriel's rings flying off with them, creating fatal spikes that shimmered with impending doom, and realized that he was just creating more weapons to kill him with.
     Alex hauled himself further and further away, eyes wide in horror, trying to force the strength into his legs to stand. Splinters and gems adorned the ground now as he stumbled over them, slowly approaching the man ahead, tightening his fists.
     Out of nowhere Gabriel whipped around and threw him into the desk, splinters digging into his back, glass pushing itself further into his body. He screamed and rolled off of it, hitting the ground hard.
     "Everything was going so perfect!" Gabriel shrieked as he dragged himself towards the door, casting panicked glances back at the insane man behind him. "Everything was going great without you!"
     Gabriel's boot crashed down on his back, crushing the air out of his lungs. He heard the man throw open the door just a few feet ahead, and then something hit him sharp and ruthless on his side, sending stars spinning around his vision.
     He let his head hang, screwing his eyes shut, preparing for another blow.
     Instead Gabriel's footsteps stormed past him and out into the corridor, melding with the crowd outside looking for him.
     "What are all you doing out here?" Gabriel yelled.
     Alex heard noises of worry resound around the room outside.
     "Not it," several people called.
     Silence ensued.
     "Someone tell me right now," Gabriel hissed. "or I'm going to kill every single one of you in this goddamn room!"
     "The, uh..." a solitary, brave voice said. "the Inkling got out."
     A pause.
     "Useless!" The man yelled. He heard something being thrown. "All of you! Useless! You're all morons!"
     "But, boss-"
     "No! I don't wanna see any of you right now!" He cried. "Get out of my sight. All of you! Now! I'll say it when I need you from now on. If I need you. I doubt I will."
     "But.. what about the-"
     "Shut up!" he heard footsteps shuffling out of the room, far away. "Do you really wanna know how stupid you all are? Do you really? The Inkling got into my personal room without any of you noticing!"
     Silence again.
     "And, before any of you idiots ask, no, I don't need help," the man continued, exasperated. "I'll kill him myself."
     Alex felt the air being siphoned from his lungs, sheer terror dripping down his back. All of a sudden each breath he took seemed painful, teasing at the bruises on his skin, dangling his life above his head as if to make him jump for it like a dog. His own body, turning against him.
      Alex's hands closed to fists and he slowly raised himself off the ground with a groan, shoulders trembling as he went. The tap of squealing boots echoed down the hall as Gabriel returned.
     He looked wildly around for something to fight with, to ease the raging pain in his hands, and quickly snatched a small lamp off of the desk. He threw off the lampshade and unscrewed the bulb, smashing it against the desk to create a small dagger.
     Alex stumbled over to the door, positioning himself behind it, holding his breath.
     Tap, tap, tap.
     He heard his hearts hammering in his ears. Just get him on the ground. Get him on the ground and you can finish this.
     Gabriel strode in, barely two steps into the room before the glass had sliced at his skin twice and he was on the ground writhing.
     Alex slammed his foot down into the man's chest with a cry. Then again. And again. And again.
     He felt his rage running rampant, muscles tightening along with his lungs, the world going darker and darker at the edges as his focus shifted from everything around him to just Gabriel. This was it; this would be the end for him.
     Alex's breaths grew shorter, faster, weaker the more time he spent moving. His rage could only carry him so far, and it was finally petering out.
     He gripped the broken lightbulb with both hands, raising his arms above his head as sweat gathered at his brow and the glass in his shoulder cracked in two, and breathed, "for them."
     The glass plunged downward towards the Octoling's chest, every muscle in his body shrieking as victory grew closer and closer.
     But then Gabriel's eyes went wide, and with the split second he was left with to react, the man rolled to the side and screamed as the blade caught him in the arm instead.
     He watched in horror as the Octoling's eyes flared in pain, thrashing as he shoved Alex away. He saw some sort of primal instinct take over; Gabriel's hands curled into fists, his eyes narrowed, his face went dark. And suddenly before him was no man, no Octoling, but a dog whose life hung over his head, too.
     He felt resolve harden into concrete in his hearts; he would not die today, not by that thing.
     Gabriel stood and ripped the glass out of his arm with a cry, his hand hanging limp by his side. At least now they had one thing in common.
     Alex stepped back as Gabriel stepped forward, suddenly uneasy. He had always been stronger than his opponents, no doubt about it. But the man's rage-fueled strength coupled with Alex's current state... the odds were tipped horribly to the creature ahead.
     His head throbbed as Gabriel advanced, lungs screaming for him to stop. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think; the world spun around him like some horrid carousel, black eating at the corners of his vision.
     And then everything seemed to stop around him as he realized one single, solitary thing.
     I'm going to die today.
     A lump formed in his throat.
     Tears pricked at his eyes.
     Chills dragged down his back.
     I'm going to die today.
     Suddenly he felt his life draining away, drop by drop. He felt his throat close, his senses go dull, his will weakening. A timer hung above his head labeled 'time till death' and it was running out fast.
     Alex used to think that he knew all about the fight or flight response. Having been in so many situations where it had kicked in, he'd experienced it more times than he could count. So much so, in fact, that he'd learned to ignore it, and simply chose to fight whenever the opportunity arose.
     This, however, was a new level of fear he'd never before felt.
     Some sort of primitive instinct hammered through his body, sending shots of adrenaline panging around his veins. And then all of a sudden he couldn't breathe, and the air was burning, and his clothes were too wet with ink and his eyes were too dry and his body was too hot and feverish and his mind was so fogged that he couldn't even think.
     And before either him or Gabriel could react, his legs were shrieking in agony as he bolted away.
     His mission was no longer just to kill.
     It was to survive.
    
     Gabriel had always been taught to treat others how you'd want them to treat you.
     He'd grown up hating that rule; despising it. That rule had blocked his path to self defense, "unnecessary" combat, and all the other basic training techniques needed for an up-and-coming Octarian soldier.
     It was only until he'd reached around twelve years old that he'd realized something.
     If bad treatment was all he recieved from everyone else, then that must be how they wanted him to treat them. Right?
     So from then on, Gabriel was no longer the little boy who bowed down, forehead to the floor, for every single authority that came by. No. He was the force that drove the authority away; he would take no maltreatment from anyone else. He had ruled himself and that was that. Gabriel was his own leader.
     That is, until his older sister had bailed from the Octarian empire, leaving him on his own, and then proceeded to spend a few months in an underground subway system, be saved from said underground subway system, fall in love with some shitty excuse of an Inkling, and start a whole new life for herself in the span of just a few months. All without him.
     Now, that... that had made him angry. Just a little bit.
     Well, no. Not just a little bit.
     Maybe a lot.
     Maybe it made him really angry.
     But that was fine, because she was his sister and he would protect her to his dying breath.
     That promise, unfortunately, included removing a certain shitty excuse of an Inkling from her life for her, because she apparently could not seem to wake the hell up and do it on her own.
     But that was fine, because she was his sister and he would protect her to his dying breath.
     Speaking of which, that "dying breath" moment seemed to be growing closer and closer every second. Somehow, within the last half hour that he'd been fighting for, he'd aquired a bloody nose, a piece of glass straight through his arm, a possible concussion, and at least a million scrapes that would take him ages to clean up after all this was over with.
     The good news, however, was that he'd inflicted each of those onto his opponent, but at least six times worse. And he could tell.
     For one, the man kept stumbling around like some newborn child, his bruised eyes darting around from one place to another as though he couldn't see quite right. Alexander's gait was entirely off, too; he was limping all over the place and, when he ran, his path looked just about as straight as Gabriel was. The telltale signs of a concussion were obvious at this point; he looked about as confused as a goldfish in a desert and all his movements were incredibly sluggish. At this rate, what with all the cuts and scrapes and ink gushing from his nose, the Inkling would be dead within the hour.
     Maybe a little faster, if Gabriel had his way.
     Which he would, considering the man was now at his mercy. Mercy he wasn't willing to give, not for him.
     His job would be over.
     Soon.
    
     To his dismay, Alex wasn't able to run for that long at all.
     He burst out into the supply room he'd staggered through earlier, thankful that Gabriel had kicked out his men, but certain that the man alone would do more damage than any mob could.
     Suddenly a body crashed into his back, hard and merciless, sending him to the ground faster than anything ever could. Alex lay there for a moment, breath lodged in his throat, life flashing behind his eyes, and then Gabriel dug his fingers into the glass in his shoulder blade.
     He let out a shriek, the world fading in and out before his eyes, his lungs refusing to breathe. Gabriel grabbed his shoulder and flipped him onto his back, the ground digging into the bruises from the hammer, chills of agony racing through his veins.
     And then the next thing he knew was metal spikes against his face, his nose, his eyes; beating him into the ground over and over and over again.
     "Stop!" he cried, or tried to, throwing his arms up in an "x" over his face. The Octoling violently grabbed his wrists and threw his arms to the side before continuing.
     Alex felt ink running down the side of his face, rupturing the bruise above his working eye and ripping gashes into his skin. Each strike carried so much force that his head ricocheted off the concrete with each pause only to be beat back into it. He couldn't breathe; gems dazzled his vision, dizziness spinning around his mind, air fleeing his lungs, eyes rolling back.
     His body suddenly went numb, limp, limbs refusing to move. Incoherence danced behind his eyes, the darkness calling out to him, begging him to close his eyes and relent.
     And it was here when he finally saw that timer overhead. "Time till death," it read.
     1:59...
     Another strike.
     1:56...
     The world spun.
     1:52...
     His strength faded.
     1:49...
     His hearts hammered in his ears, slow and sluggish.
     1:47...
     Footsteps pounded somewhere far away.
     1:43...
     Though faintly, he was aware of a voice.
     1:40...
     Two voices, actually.
     1:36...
     The rings clacked against one another as they struck him.
     1:32...
     He took a moment to mourn the loss of what he'd lost, what he'd failed to do.
     1:30...
     "Hey, bastard!" a voice suddenly cried. He heard footsteps racing toward him, toward Gabriel.
     Then there was a loud slam! and Gabriel's weight was promptly lifted off of him. He heard bodies piling on top of one another, blows landing, shouting.
     It took Alex a moment to realize that he wasn't being hit anymore, that the man was no longer on top of him, and tried to open his eyes to no avail.
     His breaths came in tiny spurts of air, suddenly hyper aware of the cuts on his face, all over his body. They burned, pounding in unison with the slack beating of his hearts, senses switching from numb to painfully sharp every few seconds.
     Get up, he begged himself. His fingers twitched and he gasped, agony ricocheting through his veins. Please, please get up.
     He moved his arm, stifling a scream, then heard steps rushing towards him and tensed, fear boosting adrenaline into his system. Alex tried to sit up, body trembling, sweat (or, more likely, ink) drying on his lips, and then a voice he never thought he'd hear again began to speak.
     "No, no, don't move," Aaron's voice told him. "Jesus, that looks bad. Marie, you got him?"
     "Yeah, I've got it." Another voice he thought was dead. "Call Cal and Sarai; tell them to get here fast. The low tide ink won't last for too long."
     "Got it." An arm came up behind his back, hugging him to someone else's body. Warmth cascaded in little drops in his chest, cutting through the pain.
     "Aaron?" he rasped, voice weak. He opened his eyes with a wince, vision blurry and stained green. The familiar figure of his best friend came into view, fiddling with something on his jacket. This couldn't be real. "Is... is that you?"
     "Yeah, man. I'm right here," his best friend responded, gripping him tighter. He groaned in pain as Aaron's arm squeezed at the glass in his shoulder. "We got you, okay?"
     Maybe he'd already died. Or maybe he was hallucinating; he'd been punched in the face, like, seventy times in a row, that was probably it. He just... had a concussion. No, this wasn't real. It couldn't be real, because dead people are dead, which means that they dont come back to life because they are dead. And even if they weren't dead, they wouldn't have come, because he knew his family was smart and they would know better than to be lured so easily into Gabriel's home.
     "Dammit. Marie, my comms aren't working." His friend said.
     "Alright- one sec." There was a pause, and then he faintly heard some movement, and then Marie began to shout. "Stay down, you bastard! Stay down! Agents 1 and 8, we found him."
     They're alive?
     Something soft gently touched the cut above his working eye and he flinched back.
     "It's still me," Aaron reminded him. "Just trying to clean this thing so you can see."
     Suddenly a thought occured to him; he'd heard his best friend die.
     "How are you.. here?" Alex asked, letting out a rough cough that made his throat ache. "How.. why are you not dead?"
     Aaron gave him a weird look. "What are you talking about?"
     Screams echoed in his ears and he shivered. "You- didn't you..." he sat up with a groan, Aaron's arm still supporting his back as his stomach twisted. Was he losing it? Had any of those things in the room actually happened? Or was this a hallucination?
     Alex turned to face his friend, a million questions running through his head that he couldn't process. And then a thought occured to him and his eyes went wide.
     "Is-" he looked down, hearts picking up speed. "Is Sarai alive?"
     Aaron's brows lowered in confusion. "Alex, why wouldn't she be?"
     His friend swiped at his eye one more time, wiping away the ink, and finally he was able to see his real best friend, his real brother, sitting in front of him.