For A Star To Fall

Chapter 32: Risk It All

Chapter 32

“Just on time!” Dr. Valin exclaimed suddenly, though he still kept the syringe poised above Father’s chest. He was looking at a television screen on the wall, which showed the outside of the elevator one floor above them. Emyle thought back to the security camera at the elevator and understood. A brunette boy stood in front of the elevator doors, clutching something bulky as he waited there. Dr. Valin smiled. “There are more people to join our little gathering!” He reached out and Emyle tensed, but he only pressed a small button on the wall, causing the elevator doors upstairs to open smoothly. 

A few moments of tense silence passed before the door to the laboratory opened and Seth stepped in. Emyle saw that he was half-carrying and half-dragging a limp figure out of the elevator. She caught a glimpse of blonde, golden-yellow hair. Jordan. Seth had captured Jordan. Steadying her grip on the Glock, Emyle turned her body such that she stood at an angle and kept both Seth and Dr. Valin in sight. There was a slight bruising around Jordan’s neck, visible only due to the harsh fluorescent light in the laboratory. His air supply had been cut off until he had fallen into unconsciousness. 

“Could you wake him up, Seth?” Dr. Valin asked, though it was more of an instruction than a question. Seth gave him a half-smile and, before Emyle could do anything, slapped Jordan hard. This caused him to regain consciousness immediately, jerking upright and blinking groggily. 

“Wha...” he mumbled and Emyle felt a sudden, unusual urge to raise an eyebrow at his dazed expression. Seth rolled his eyes and once again backhanded him across the face, but harder this time, judging from the harsh crack that sounded. Jordan’s head snapped to the side and, from where she stood, Emyle could already see the twin hand-shaped crimson marks that were forming on his cheeks. 

Dr. Valin shot Seth a reprimanding, disapproving look which he studiously ignored. “Are you okay, Jordan?” he asked gently.

Jordan, unable to touch or rub his face since Seth had grabbed his arms, raised his head and met Dr. Valin’s gaze, his normally cerulean eyes now a dark, dark blue that probably signified rage. “Just friggin’ dandy,” he spat. 

“Language, Jordan,” Dr. Valin said, tsking. 

He rolled his eyes and kept talking. “You know, I don’t get it. Why not just get your stupid security guards to get us here? You could have saved yourself and us a whole lot of time,” he remarked sarcastically.

Dr. Valin smiled warmly, seemingly content to stray off topic for a while. “You have a good point, Jordan, but I cannot afford to have them knowing about my work until I have refined the serum. It still needs some work before it can be revealed to the general public. They may be opposed to the idea, and interfere like the both of you have done. In fact, others have already done, you know.”

Emyle expected Jordan to give another smart-mouthed reply, but she found that he was staring at the ground in front of her, where a large pool of scarlet blood was spreading slowly outwards, almost reaching her feet already. His eyes flicked from Ana’s corpse to the gun in her hand and his gaze was unreadable. Satisfied that Jordan would not interfere anytime soon, Dr. Valin rubbed his hands together, tilting his head to the side. “Okay, now that everyone is here, I need to treat your illness, Emyle.” He lifted the syringe full of serum and a familiar glint entered his eyes. 

It occurred to her that he was playing games with her, for what she did not know. Perhaps he wanted her to know what he had done, or what he was going to do. Emyle raised her gun. “I do not have schizophrenia. I do not have a mental illness.” 

His smile made her feel as if he had expected such a response. "Are you sure? Are you sure there's nothing wrong with you?" Emyle nodded. His voice was taunting, but it was still a question she needed to answer. "Then explain your behavior, Emyle. Explain why the idea of you being schizophrenic sounded ever so logical to our dear Ana. Why else would you act like you're bipolar? Nice one moment and then violent and insane the next? You act the nice part and lead people on, but once their use has expired, you drop them, dispose of them, in the cruellest way imaginable. Just like you did to poor Ana here. Am I right, Jordan?"