The Legacy Theory | #OnceUponNow

Six

"Lovely seeing you here boys," Janson Witt said coolly, letting out a low whistle at how incredibly pathetic they looked — fear itself was etched into their faces, despair that they would die forgotten. "I don't think I need to ask why you're down here."

"No you don't," Brooklyn replied, mustering up the courage to not allow his voice to crack. To submit right there and then would be the end of them, and all they could do was buy time before they were brought back to the laboratory. There simply was no point in making a run for it when there were ten very armed men pointing guns at them, their own boss being unmerciful. "How'd you find us?"

He laughed loudly, his raspy voice filling the tunnel, echoing at times. "Your hacking needs some work. To make things worse, you sentimental fools decided to see your experiment one last time — my men subdued it after we had allowed it to track you up to here."

Quinn felt utter betrayal, to say the least. A 'sentimental fool,' he was — perhaps that was better than being a heartless person like Witt was. "I couldn't leave without saying goodbye."

"Well I could," Brooklyn said rather nastily before pulling on what he thought was a brave face. "What do you want from us, Witt?"

"I want you to come back quietly, but I don't mind using force if the situation calls for it," he said evenly, signaling his men to lower their guns, though many remained wary. "I really don't want this to get messy."

They refused to have any of it, and at this point, they couldn't believe a word Witt said anyways, so the pair remained silent. Brooklyn felt his mouth twitching, insults evidently at the edge of his tongue — it took all of his willpower to simply stare him down. Running was out of question, nor could they fling their backpacks like weapons against ten heavily armed men.

"How about I give you until the count of five," the man offered all too generously. "And if you don't give in, force is always an option — you'll go back either way, so I suggest you make your lives a little easier."

Five counts wasn't a whole lot, and Brooklyn's theory about the Dramatic Counting down was threatening to make an appearance. They had to think quickly or else they'd be forced back into a paid slavery, then killed sooner or later.

"Five."

They did not move, but tensed up as the men raised their guns and aimed it at them.

"Four."

And silence followed.

"Three."

Quinn held his hands up in surrender, taking a tentative step towards the men. Witt's lips curled into a cruel smile, his eyes victorious. "We'll go," he said, gritting his teeth.

"A wise decision boys — we need you back on the job, asap," he mused quietly. Witt's expression was gleeful, smug. "Come on now, we don't want to be here all day."

Brooklyn was giving his friend the scariest glare that he could muster, wondering why in the world he would give up oh so easily — he always suspected Quinn to be weaker willed, but he never thought of him to be so pathetic. He did not move, as Witt requested. The Legacy Theory would be crushed if he gave in.

"Are you not going?" Quinn asked suddenly, his hand on Brooklyn's shoulder. "I just want the best for both of us."

"No, I don't think I am," he admitted with a small shrug, breaking into the fastest sprint that he ever ran, the turbid water splashing up in mini tsunamis.

The elder ducked as the shooting began, he too taking off after Brooklyn. Adrenaline was high, and if it weren't for the rush of energy he felt, Quinn might have easily tripped and fell. "I don't feel like going back either," he responded, letting out a whoop of victory as the heavily armor-clad men slowly fell behind due to their equipment. Bullets still followed but were less in numbers.

They were free — or at least they thought they were.

Half a mile down, Quinn's legs gave way, causing him to fall with a loud splash. Brooklyn slowed down to a jog to make sure his friend was okay, though it was evident that he wasn't. "What's wrong," he demanded, doing his best to drag the other onto his feet. Quinn got up, only to collapse again.

"T-they got me in the leg," he confessed. "Didn't want to tell you."

Brooklyn let out a loud sigh as the impending footsteps and splashes grew closer. "What are we going to do when they find you? You're good as dead Quinn, and you know it," he snapped.

He nodded in agreement — Quinn had no chance when it came escaping, and his friend was the only one that could make it out. "Go then, Brooklyn. Get your ass out of here and fulfill your Legacy Theory. It was only yours to fulfill anyways."

"How did you know about my theory," he asked softly, so calmly that it was dangerous.

"You always muttered about it under your breath. Only you would come up with something as ridiculous as a Legacy Theory," he muttered, the wound in his leg beginning to take its toll. Quinn was forced to put zero pressure on his right leg. "ἢ τὰν ἢ ἐπὶ τᾶς."

And Brooklyn recognized the Greek that he had uttered — he said to "come back victorious or come back dead."

"Of course. Goodbye Quinn," he said, a small smile tugging at the ends of his lips.

"Goodbye, Brooklyn."

He turned his back and ran, leaving his friend behind. Anything to complete the Legacy Theory, he promised to himself — it would cost him things, but he never thought Quinn would pay the price to make sure he could fulfill it. Feeling regret was one thing, but all Brooklyn could think of was the cool Los Angeles air that kissed his skin. There was another manhole by the looks of it, faint moonlight streaming down to form a little patch of brightness. Brooklyn climbed his way up, shoving aside the heavy disc. A small road, it looked like, with no one around. He figured as much — it was still dark out.

His legs were shaking as he found shelter between some old boxes abandoned in a nearby alley. Nothing mattered at the moment — because, against all odds, he was alive. This wasn't the way he wanted to complete the theory (or any theory for that matter).

Brooklyn found himself at a loss for words on what exactly he had done to remain alive. They say heroes get remembered and legends never die — but what happens to the legacies? He would find out.