Pray for the Wicked: The Aftermath (COMPLETED) *UPDATED*

7

~An Hour Later~

"And how was this thing broken again?" PJ and B were inside Popcorn's headquarters. They were sitting on his couch while he was busy looking at the key. He had a magnifying glass over it and tools in his hands. He had his goggles up, pushing his dark chocolate curls back from his eyes.

"In a scuffle," B answered. He kept his right arm on his lap as he slouched in his seat. He still had pain in his chest and back, but right now it was dull, allowing him to just ignore it and not move around a lot. PJ was sitting on the arm of the couch, facing Popcorn. She had her skates on, prepared in case anything were to happen while they were there.

"He got into a fight and probably fell on it," PJ added.

"Well, usually if a key breaks, you just make a copy of its cuts from the lock it goes to, but it seems I can't do that with this."

"Why?" PJ asked.

"It doesn't have any cuts to copy. Does this open anything?"

"Yes."

"No." 

PJ and B had answered simultaneously. They looked at each other, trying to get their story straight.

"Guys, what's going on? What is this thing?"

"Corn, please. It's probably just best you don't know a lot about it. You're already taking the biggest risk by helping us," PJ pleaded.

"That's what I was counting on. I fix this key, get you guys gassed up and you leave long before they get here. I misdirect them and you go on your merry way. Simple, but I need to know how to fix this key."

"It's not a regular key," B jumped in. "Just put the shaft back together and it's good." Popcorn looked between the both of them. B sat up from the couch, leaning his chest over the arm. "I just need it fixed," was all he said. Popcorn sighed, bringing his goggles over his eyes.

"On it," he said. He took away the magnifying glass and got to work. PJ stood up from the couch and started pacing slowly. The plastic wheels on her skates were loud and bumpy against the grooves in the metal floor. B watched her go back and forth.

"It's fine. I'm pretty sure we've got time," B reassured her.

"I know, I'm just still a bit jittery. It's been a crazy 2 days so, forgive me if I seem on edge."

"No, I get it. I didn't mean to bring you into this shit. I would've just handled it on my own."

"Maybe it's better you didn't."

"What makes you say that?"

"We still wouldn't be talking if you hadn't." She smiled at him, B soon returning the gesture. He tried sitting up on the couch, but he groaned as he did. PJ heard multiple bones pop, none too loud to cause concern. "You sound like an old man," she smiled.

"I feel like one."

"How bad is it?"

"Dull, right now. It flares up randomly, but with the way things are going, I don't know if I have a lot of time left."

"We'll make it," PJ reassured. "We'll make it." B's eyes followed her pacing. He wasn't just hearing her words for his sake. It was for her own.

"Yeah," he added. "We'll make it." He watched Popcorn work extensively on the key. Sparks were flying as he sanded down the rough edges. B leaned against the arm of the couch when he suddenly realized he needed to relieve himself. "Corn, where's your bathroom?" he asked.

"Down the stairs to your left."

"I'll be back," he told PJ as he passed her. She watched him walk down the stairs, having to hold on to the railing as he climbed down. She soon went back to pacing behind Popcorn as he worked on the key. B made it down the stairs and took the first left. The door was right in front of him. He was able to find the light switch and stumble inside. He lifted the toilet seat and proceeded to empty his bladder. He felt tired, his eyes heavy as he stood at the toilet. He shook the sleepiness away, throwing his head up and down. As he stopped shaking his head, he noticed that his urine was discolored, not only a bright yellow but blotches of red appearing in the bowl. "Dammit," he groaned. He couldn't even calculate how much time he had left. He was too tired to try. B cleaned himself off, flushed, and washed his hands. He had to rest against the sink, the pain flaring up again in his back and shoulder blades. He tried his best to keep his voice low, but every pop was excruciatingly painful and a small yelp would escape his throat every time it shifted. However, PJ nor Popcorn could hear any of it from upstairs. She was still pacing back and forth behind him. She had her hands together in front of her, rubbing her thumbs over and over. She knew she was just stressing herself out more by doing this, but she couldn't help it. She just wanted things to go right this time.