Phobia

23. Agateophobia

"You will remember me. Remember me for centuries." Falloutboy

The crazy bitch had thrown some form of sleeping gas at them.

Jon had just managed to pull his shirt up over the lower half of his face as the beaker smashed, a fact he was grateful for as he watched the rest of the officers' fall to the floor. Isaiah hadn't been as lucky: he had pulled the material up, but had seemed to somehow still inhale some of the fumes. He was on his knees, fighting desperately to stay awake.

"Where are the kids Anna?" Jon's voice was muffled as he spoke through the cotton material. In his rush to cover his face, he had dropped his gun on the ground. It lay just out of his reach, closer to Anna than him in the small room.

"Safe, for now. You can have them back once I'm done with the experiment. A few hours maybe"

"Safe? Have they been injected with the serum yet?" Jon questioned; his heart swelling with the hope that maybe they hadn't been too late.

"Of course they have. I am proud to say that it works perfectly." Anna's words were the needle that pricked the balloon of hope in his chest.

"Where are they?"

She didn't answer his question, instead taking a step forward, her fingers trailing along the edge of the table until they reached a small vial of liquid.

"I know all about you Detective Cartwright." She held the vial up to the light, seeming to examine the red serum inside it. "Have you stopped to think about what you would see if you were injected with Phobia? I bet you've seen many horrors in your time on the force."

"The kids, Anna. Where are they?"

"But of course, the worst horror of all happened outside your working hours, didn't it? A car accident, I believe."

"Shut up." Jon managed through gritted teeth. He felt a hand grip his leg and looked down at Isaiah on the floor.

"Don't," Isaiah seemed to struggle with his words, "listen to her."

"Poppy, wasn't it, Detective? I wonder if she's what you would see if you had Phobia running through your veins. Would that be a blessing? Or a curse?"

"You know nothing."

"On the contrary, I know everything Detective Cartwright. I know all about the man who lost his daughter and then his wife shortly after. The one who shows up to work hung-over more often than not. The impulsive Detective whose actions can only be controlled by his partner," she nodded towards Isaiah. "I'm a scientist, I always do my research."

Even though the white mask covered her face, Jon swore he could see her smiling. The evil glint in her eyes taunted him as he fought to keep his composure. He didn't even question how she could know so much about him; the internet would have told her all she needed to know.

He couldn't let her words get to him. She was trying to provoke him for a reason. It was almost cliché really; the villain trying to goad the Detective to distract him from the task at hand. But keeping his temper under control was easier said than done, he could feel it bubbling just below the surface.

"If you know all about me, then you know I will do anything to save those kids."

"The way you couldn't save your own child?"

It was a harsh blow, one he felt all the way to his finger-tips. It almost brought him to the ground next to Isaiah. He felt the anger rising up in his chest, an animal ready to strike. This is what she had wanted; to push him to his breaking point. He felt the snap, like a broken bone, as his anger turned to boiling, hot rage.

"Jon." Isaiah's voice seemed to seep into the red mist that clouded all Jon's senses. "Don't."

But the reassurance that Jon usually felt when Isaiah tried to calm him down was missing, and Jon could no longer hold back the fury that had consumed him every day since someone had taken his child from him. Anna had done the same to other parents and now she was throwing his own failure back in his face.

He lunged for the gun at the same time that she did, all caution going out the window. His knees hit the floor hard, but he felt nothing except the desire to end this once and for all. His fingers scrambled, grabbing thin air as the gun he was going for now lay in Anna's hands. She stood up, seemingly comfortable with the heavy metal in her hands.

It was not the first time that Jon had looked down the barrel of a gun, it had happened twice before. But it was the first time that he felt unafraid as he faced his certain death. In fact, he almost welcomed it with open arms.

"Say hello to your daughter for me, Detective." A loud shot rang out, deafening in the small room.

Jon clutched his chest, surprised to find that the bullet had not pierced him, but when he looked up, he saw why. A bloom of red appeared on Anna's chest, her mouth forming a silent 'O' as the gun she had been holding clattered to the floor. He rushed forward and grabbed her, lowering her down onto the cold concrete, his shirt falling from his face as he did so.

Isaiah lowered the gun he was holding, even on his knees, his aim was near perfect. Jon looked at his partner whose efforts to stay awake had saved his life. The gas seemed to have disappeared as Jon felt no side effects from it, despite his lack of protection.

He glanced down at the dying woman in his arms, as she spluttered and gasped. The red spreading beneath her, covering them both.

"The kids, where are the kids Anna?"

Her hands weakly tried to pull the face mask off, failing twice before managing it. "I will-," she coughed, blood bubbling past her lips, "I will be remembered."

Jon had truly believed that she would answer him; instead her words chilled him to the core. He had no doubt they were true, she would go down as the worst criminal their town had ever seen.

"Where are they? Tell me!"

But with one last rattling breath, Anna Baker went still, never to speak again.