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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » Bad Medicine 2021
Veritas Part 2
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Corey Smith Offline
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Some of everyone

(cheered; very rarely plays dirty but isn't lame either; many likable qualities)


#1
11-21-2021, 03:43 PM

RECAP

Corey Smith is allying with a friend and ally of Madison Dyson's named Jace Mingla to retrieve a dose of repairative nanites that will heal him of all his injuries. In exchange, he is helping Jace to take the fight back to Madison and extricate his son Amari from her clutches. But, Corey doesn't know how far he can trust Jace, a ruthless drug dealer. And the situation as a whole may be deadlier and more precarious than he imagined. Can Corey heal himself of his injuries and survive this? And, more importantly, will Thad Duke stop lying long enough to retain even a hint of credibility? Okay, we're working two separate threads here, but bear with us! It's gettin' good now!






Nine Years Ago….


Jace could feel the boy’s heart pulsing with the open wound, each inevitable pump unleashing a floodgate of fresh blood. Tearing the sleeve from his shirt, he hastily wadded it up against the boy’s throat. He acted without thinking, solely on instinct as if this moment was one that had played out countless times in alternate strands of realities that were bound and determined to see this boy dead.

You are not dying! It was a command as much as it was a reassurance. The boy’s eyes blazed with a primal rage. He didn’t just believe Jace, he knew it to be truth. There would be no dying today.

The boy simply didn’t will it.

Again acting on instinct, but this one more alien than the others, Jace grasped the wounded boy to his chest.

You are not dying.

Then


I understand. Corey’s simple statement echoed out into the hall, and Jace saw it as good a cue as any. He entered the room, walking up to the hellspawned contraption scarcely keeping Madison Dyson alive. Madison, I’m here.

Jace…. Spoken reverently, maybe even with a coarse sort of tenderness. We need to…

I know. We’ll find out what the boy knows. But we need him healthy. I know how hard this must be…

He had me shot! The words were then punctuated by rasping coughs, and Madison’s wraith-like emaciated form was wracked with each cough.

And now he can make you well. Jace placed his hand on the glass of the tank. Trust me.

Madison grew silent.

Trust me. Jace repeated, bringing his face up to the glass. Madison extended a hand in his direction, a meek gesture, but also somehow replete with the years of history that had transpired between the two. Jace nodded and turned towards Corey. None too gently, he pulled him up and walked him past the Blackwater security men. I’ve got this. The grunts looked to Madison, and then back at Jace. But they dared not press the issue.

Jace marched Corey back to the room that served as his makeshift cell. With the benefit of vision, Corey saw now that they were in some sort of hospital, long disused. In fact, it maintained a gilded art deco style that made the surroundings all that more eerie. Corey’s cell was actually an examination room that had been stripped down to the tiled walls and barren cabinetry. Jace snuck a look outside into the hall before venturing in and closing the door behind him. He immediately pressed something into Corey’s hand. It looked like a syringe, but the contents looked like they were housed in a small futuristic firearm with a trigger. It was cold to the touch.

Did you talk to your son?

Yeah… his reply was noncommittal.

And?

I don’t know.

What do you mean “you don’t know”?

Jace cursed under his breath. Would you dose yourself already? It’s what you came for.

It was indeed what Corey came for, but his nervous predilections returned as he turned the weapon like device over in his hands. Here was, supposedly, the healing nanites that would reverse all the damage done to his brain. Every bit of it. From the stroke to the most recent severe concussions and accompanying TIA that threatened his life again. But still, he could not dispel the suspicion that something was amiss, and that he could simply be uploading yet another malevolent persona into his system.

What are you waiting for? He prodded impatiently.

What will happen after I take this?

It’s exactly what I said it is.

Is it?

Jace almost seemed to read his mind. Don’t get paranoid. I already told you, Madison doesn’t want you for another pet project. Then, grimly. Not when she has my son.

Will there be any side effects? Will I be able to function?

There’s a sense of euphoria at first.

Euphoria?

Yeah. Something about that much abrupt healing causing a rush of endorphin production. It’ll take you about an hour to come down. I can’t stay in here with you the whole time, but I’ll try to keep these goons away from you.

And then what?

And then shit goes according to plan. Or it doesn’t.

But can we trust Whisper? Corey insisted again.

I’m still working on Amari. Jace seemed to make a point of using his given name. It’s complicated.

Corey scowled. He WANTS this?

I…I don’t fuckin’ know, alright? Jace snapped. Dose yourself, we don’t have any time to waste.

Corey looked back down at the device again. A subtle sweat pushed up through his pores as he started to bring the injector to bear against his forearm.

Here, as they say, goes nothin’.

NOW


We see Corey Smith laying on a leather chaise lounge. His head is propped backwards, up towards the ceiling, and his expression seems to be warring between dismay and anger.

Did this dumb motherfucker actually say that I wanted the violence? Like I was the one that ambushed and kicked HIM in the head before a title defense?! What kind of two plus two equals five, velcro shoe dumbfuckery is that?! No offense to anyone who wears velcro shoes, they’re really quite efficient.

But, yeah! This thing between us didn’t get violent until he stabbed ME in the back. Or is he trying to say it got violent when I chose Alias as a friend? Or when I signed up for War Games, because color me confused but neither of those things sound like treacherous friendship obliterating assaults to me.


Corey, you’re doing it again.

Oh, sorry.

The shot pans back to reveal that we are in the interior of a psychiatrist's office. It’s got all the trappings of one. Leather and mahogany, shelves of smart looking books, a desk with one of those clacking ball thingies on it…ya know, the works!

Oh, and it’s also got this guy!

[Image: hannibal-3.jpg?resize=480:*]


Remember Corey, we’re not cutting a promo, we’re delving into your thoughts about the dissolution of your friendship with Thad.

Right, right. I’m so glad I have you to keep my head on straight. And there’s just something about you that instinctively makes me TRUST you, I can’t quite put my finger on it. But I’m certain I’m right about it.

Well, I appreciate that. The good doctor happens to glance over at the far side of his desk, where a small splatter of blood is setting into the woodwork. He surreptitiously slides the clacky ball desk doodad over the stain and continues talking.

THEN


The needle bit the skin, and the onrush of the device’s contents was almost painful, a distilled pressure flowing freely into his veins like a storm wave.

You may want to have a seat.

Corey did so, as Jace took another surreptitious glance into the hall. I need to go.

Can I at least take these off? He presented his chained hands.

No. I should be back for you within the next three hours. If I am not, our lift never arrived, or I am dead. Which means you will also soon be dead.

Such a charmer. Corey was starting to feel a warmth in his arm.

Jace ignores the playful jab. If I come for you earlier, that’s when you earn your keep. We’ll have to shoot our way out. You do remember how to fire a gun?

I’d rather not, but yes.

You may not have a choice. He pauses. Stay alert. Or as alert as you can be. You’ll be feeling pretty damn good in a matter of minutes.

My arm is kinda warm and tingly. But Jace was already out the door, making sure to close and secure it behind himself. Corey waves his arm a bit as the warm sensation continued to spread. It seemed to accelerate, gathering momentum as it found new internal niches to explore in Corey’s body. He leaned back and looked up at the ceiling and was shocked to find it glistening.

[Image: Free_Sparkle_Vector.jpg]


Corey admired the vision, but then a startling thought clutched at him. He realized why this feeling was starting to seem so familiar. That treacherous slide into a chemical bliss, the aura of calm, all the hurt melting away. It felt just like a trip. This could be dangerous. He mused as his eyes closed shut. When he opened them, he was laying horizontally. Christian was smiling at him from his side of the bed, his freckles flourishing as they always did when he was feeling equal parts sleepy and amorous. His hand was tracing the contours of Corey’s body.

You like it, you can keep it.

It feels weird. All those places you used to have scars. Now they’re just gone.

Does that bother you?

Christian smiled. I always thought they were kinda hot.

Oh really? Corey said with mock indignation. Well, I’m so sorry to disappoint you!

It’s cool. I can just make some more. Christian leaned over and started taking a nibble on the sensitive flesh of his pectoral.

Ahhh! My good titty! He feigned excruciating pain, before taking Christian’s face in his hands and guiding him in towards a kiss. Christian’s hand worked its way up the back of Corey’s skull, threading his fingers in the curls and pulling Corey in closer. When they finally parted, he gazed into Corey’s eyes.

You’re a good man.

Corey shut his eyes and found himself spontaneously laughing. When he opened them again, he was still in his impromptu cell, but the pinpricks of light on the ceiling had started to cascade down towards him like so many snowflakes. Corey reveled in how good it felt, better than he had felt in, well, longer than he could recall. His head had a strange weightiness to it, which under other circumstances would probably have been uncomfortable but now scarcely noticed. He reached up to catch one of the falling glints of light, only to find it disappearing between his fingertips.

You’re a good man. The encouragement echoed inside Corey’s weighty skull. A good man. Never stopping to consider why that paean was so necessary to him right now. Why it filled in the cracks and crevices in his will with its edifying golden essence. Absolute felt good. It felt really, really good.

Corey wasn’t sure how long he had laid in that state before Jace Mingla came bursting in the door. He rushed over to Corey.
Get up!

Corey looked around himself, finding that at some point in his reverie he had transferred himself to the floor and taken off the trick handcuffs. ….huh?

Get up! He repeated, more forcibly this time. As Corey started to comply Jace pushed a gun into his chest. Whoa…whoa…whoa….

They know something’s wrong. We need to….

Hey Jace, are you in there? A voice called out from the hall, past the closed door.

Jace cursed under his breath and jerked his head to the side, indicating that Corey should take cover against the wall. Corey obeyed, but was still distracted by the luminescence in his vision, and the overwhelming endorphin rush bathing his system. Corey checked to make sure the safety on the gun was off, all the while uncertain if he could shoot straight in this condition.

Jace hugged the wall on the other side of the door.
Yeah, I’m here. I was starting to work on Corey, see if he knows anything about the missing sample.

We figure he’s got somebody on the inside helping him. Most likely explanation, ya know? Jace mouthed “fuck”.

I’ll get it out of him.

Well, why don’t you let us help out. There was something lurking in his cadence. Let us in?

Jace nodded to Corey. Corey nodded back. The door’s open.

The hallway was silent. The practiced silence of trained killers moving in on prey. Finally, the barrel of a rifle pushed the door open gently, followed soon after by a Blackwater security man. He turned in Jace’s direction, and didn’t even get to let off a shout before a 9 mm shell plowed into his brain. Corey flattened himself against the wall, as the gout of blood flushing out the back of the man’s head sprayed before him, flashing under the euphoric lights and taking on the color of molten gold before hitting the floor. There was shouting from the hallway then, and the mad dash of multiple men repositioning. Jace kicked the body away from the threshold and slammed the door shut all in one smooth motion.

The fuck, Jace?! What are you doing?!

Is your son with us?

Jace grimaced. No.

Jesus! He sold us out?!

No.

One of the security men interrupted from outside again. Look, maybe we can smooth this out. I’m sure Madison will forgive this little indiscretion.

Jace couldn’t help but laugh. She forgives nothing. He took a labored breath. Jace suddenly looked very, very tired. Let me leave with my boy and the sample. You can have Mr. Smith.

Corey wheeled on Jace, but before he could utter a word of surprise Jace held his hand out placatingly and shook his head “no”.

I can’t trust him. My God, I’ve fucked up. Christian, I’m so sorry.

Corey’s hand tensed on the trigger of his gun, as the myriad of possible outcomes opened up to him. Few of them were good.

Now.


I’m going to get some water.

Be my…the doctor stirred. Actually, why don’t you hold off on that.

Corey was already halfway to the water cooler, but still hadn’t noticed what was inside it.

[Image: 6a00d83454f2ec69e201b7c6de91a3970b-320wi]


How come?

Well, it’s just that…uhhhh…the water was tasting a little tinny and I’m still waiting on a replacement jug.

Corey shrugged and turned away from the head in the water cooler, taking a seat back on the couch.

Now where were we?

Talking about how Thad Duke is stupid and was always stupid and will always be a big stupid jerk.

Right! And incidentally, I agree wholeheartedly with your analysis.

Corey screwed his face up in confusion. You do? I thought maybe you’d want me to take a more nuanced position than that.

Nuance is sometimes overrated. Especially in this case. I think it’s pretty cut and dry that Thad is the wrongdoer here.

Corey still looks lost. Okaaaay. But last week you were taking Thad’s side and pointing out why he may have felt like I hurt him. So which is it? I mean, I know I’m not the one with the fancy degree on the wall but…

It’s a form of therapy! It’s called…he drums his fingers on the desk nervously….dual dialectics! Yes!

Huh. I guess it just, well, seems a bit inconsistent with your character. But you’ve never steered me wrong, Dawk!

Did you just call me “Dawk”?

I don’t think so. Corey moved his shoe backwards a couple inches, running it right into the bloody severed arm the good doctor had left under the couch. His eyes widen, and he looks away from the limb to encourage Corey’s ongoing obliviousness.

But maybe you’re right. Maybe there is no salvaging this relationship. I mean, how do you reason with a guy who’s so narcissistic he thinks every single recent career move I made was to be more like him? How do you reason with a guy whose view of reality is so skewed he counts me eliminating myself to help him in that battle royale months back, and me going on to win War Games by BEATING his team, wins over ME?! How do you reason with a man who still holds him giving me an unasked for tag team championship title against me? How do you reason with a man who says “you just had to ask for the match, Corey, but don’t you dare ask the people who actually BOOK THE MATCHES” like that wasn’t some kind of bitch ass copout for not accepting my legit challenge when he had the chance? The man has utterly lost it, jumping at ghosts. Very, very mentally delayed ghosts.

Maybe Thad needs to learn a thing or two about making sense from Frankie. Jesus Dawk, have you seen this kid? He talks like an enlightened 40 year old. The kid’s fucking brilliant, I love that little goober. He might just be smarter than all of us.
Corey suddenly stops and sniffs the air. Does it smell weird in here to you? Like, kinda nasty?

No, not at all!

Hmmmm, maybe I forgot to put on deodorant. Anyway, can you believe the chutzpah of this guy, telling the world that he knew I was cashing in on him and “well I didn’t just let it happen, but I also didn’t prepare for it in the slightest hurr durr”. Actually no dipshit you didn’t know it was coming so spare us the “I knew Haley Joel Osment was a ghost the WHOLE time” level grade school braggadocio, also spoilers for a movie that’s like 20 years old.

Corey. Breathe.

Corey keeps on rolling. I also love how this turd bloom likes to constantly take me to task for my shitty TV title run, wherin my greatest sin was losing to a guy whose beaten the breaks off of him at least three times. And that’s three ACTUAL wins, not three trumped up “wins because I need them to be wins so I can hope to build a case against Corey on a foundation of sand”.

Corey. Breathe.

And…and….Corey starts flapping his hands like a cataleptic as he goes red in the face.

BREATHE!

With a protracted gasp Corey finally takes a breath. He shoots the Doc a thumbs up to let him know he’s okay.

It seems that Thad is still touching a nerve. Why is that?

Whaddya mean “why”? It’s because he’s hyperbolically accusing me of being some lying snake in the grass while he lies his whole entire ass off to try to make me look bad. I mean, there’s a REASON Dolly sided with me on this. There’s a REASON those fans still chant my name and take a piss break when his mug shows up on camera. And it’s because all I ever, EVER tried to be was a good friend who watched his back. Okay, did I overplay my hand with helping him win the Universal Championship? I guess. And I never, ever would have done it if I had known it would turn him into such an insecure little rage monster. Corey sighs, and his tenor changes a bit. Alright, all snark and bitterness aside….that was a TRUE mistake.

Helping him win the Universal Championship?

Yeah. I guess…I guess I should have read him better than that, eh? I guess I should have known he would want to pass or fail on his own merits. But after he put so much of himself into helping me recover I felt like I had to do SOMETHING to repay him, ya know? I felt like he deserved to be happy.

And somehow that’s NOT the hallmark of a true friend?

I….Jesus, I don’t know anymore. He throws his hands in the air. Doc, can I just cut a promo?

Our mysterious doctor taps his fingers in the desk in mild irritation before conceding. Fine, I suppose.

Sweet. But this level of full scale assault dumby dumbness absolutely demands it. Meanwhile doc, why don’t you go snag some Fabreeze or something.

Corey looks directly into the camera and flashes THAT smile. You know the one. The one where he’s about to verbally eviscerate you, pulling your own words out your gut hole, while you watch as they metaphorically slop to the ground leaving you with nothing but intense gnawing feelings of inadequacy. Yeah, THAT one.

Thaddy. Hi. Corey here. Let’s get started on this slow moving trainwreck you called a promo, eh?

Thad Duke says that all he’s done is give, give, give like some beknighted warmongering Santa Claus, and all coal deserving Corey has done is take, take, TAKE. Please tell me Thad, what have I REALLY taken from you? Not what you said I’ve taken from you, but concrete examples of what I have so callously stripped from you. You told the world I “took” from you when I took credit for your Universal title win. Because from my perspective, it looks like I GAVE you a BIG UPS there. Now, maybe it wasn’t the best way to repay you, I acknowledge that now. But considering that I explicitly stated that I was going into that match to help you, and that I would rather eliminate myself in that match than eliminate you, what exactly did you find so shocking about this? It’s not like I was duplicitous in my intent, despite your frantic scrabblings trying to paint me as such. It was printed right on the bottle. If you made it to the end of that match, I wanted you to win. Full stop. And all I did was what I already made bare, HELP YOU. You didn’t seem to have much of a problem with that in the run up to the match, only afterwards when you had a title in hand that you may not have completely pulled yourself up by your bootstraps to win. So thanks for proving all of this truly IS about your insecurity regarding the championship. I appreciate the gimme.

And ya know what, yeah, yeah, if I had to do it all over again, I wouldn’t have helped you. I would have let you win or lose on your own and not tried to give back to you for all of your help during my recovery. Maybe I would have just treated you to an ice cream or something.

Onto the next galaxy brained example of me TAKING from Thad Duke. Thad, your point about the tag team championship just gets stupider and stupider every time you open up that can. Thad, it was your call to give me that tag team championship. And let’s be real here, that wasn’t just some glistening benevolence you bestowed on me out of the kindness of your own heart. No, that was because Thad Duke wanted to do the wrestling equivalent of “I don’t work weekends.” You wanted help defending those tag straps while you were top dog. You didn’t want to get double booked on pay per views anymore. Hey, I get it! That’s rough. You did it before and I’m sure you found out the hard way that one match plus two match (plus three match!) equals a whole lot of hurtin’ the next day. So you brought me into the fold to lessen your work load. In fact, I’m pretty sure you were quite explicit about that. So just what the fuck is your complaint here exactly? That I TOOK your request for HELP?! TO THE STOCKS WITH YE, COREY SMITH! God, what a rotten bastard I am.

Dumb. Dumb. DUMB.

Next up on the docket, “I’m envious of you.” Really? Why’s that? Because you had a, quite frankly, underwhelming Universal title reign? I mean, that’s okay and all. But while I was supposedly being jealous of everything you have, I was actually over in my neck of the woods winning both Leap of Faith AND (!!) War Games in the same year. There’s not a whole lot of guys that can say they’ve done that. So while you won a Universal Championship, effectively doing what 28 people did before you, I accomplished something that is far more rare. So what, ex-fucking-zactly, do I have to be so jealous of? I’m PROUD of what I’ve accomplished this year. I’m PROUD of the fact that I’ve only been pinned a grand total of three times since I returned, and one of those I can most definitely call shenanigans on because you ambushed me when I was already in a weakened state right before the match.

Now let’s talk about what you’ve ACTUALLY accomplished against me, that vaunted collection of decisive dominance that “makes me your bitch”. Because from where I stand, you have only pinned me ONCE. And it was in a setting that was hardly one on one. So you have never, not once, beaten me in a match where I was fresh as a daisy and looking to do some serious damage. And I realize that “truth” is kind of a slippery concept for you, but that nonetheless is the truth, in decisive black and white.

So here is the barrel you’re looking down. You’re looking down the barrel of a 100% healthy Corey Smith who has two months of momentum at his back holding “your” championship. This isn’t some captain’s match slog, this isn’t some multi-person sitch, this is just you and I facing off in a manner we have NEVER faced off in before. So calling me your “bitch” might be a tad presumptous. Just a tad, Thad! And certainly not to the same calibre that you are Bobby Bourbon’s bitch. Because if you want an example of pure strain bitchdom, one need not look further than that. I bet you’re still insecure about that too, ain’t ya?

Let’s talk about what a lying snake in the grass I was for cashing in on you instead of Alias. Because in Thad Land, that’s probably what I was banking on doing the whole time, right? Wrong. I had every intention of using that briefcase for a match with Alias. You know who changed that timeline? You. The moment you kicked me in the head. And quite frankly, I don’t regret a second of that cash in. In fact, I’m RELISHING it. I got to make you look stuipid on pay per view, and then I get to do it again during your contractually obligated rematch. Because yes Thad, yes, I KNEW you would be getting this rematch. It’s baked right into the 24/7 contract stipulations. I WANTED this. Just like how I WANTED this right after War Games after you popped off at the mouth because I had the audacity to construct a better War Games team than you. If you will recall, back then, it was YOU who wanted nothing to do with ME. You refused MY challenge. Who’s the bitch now?

When I cashed in on you, it wasn’t weakness. Given who and what you are, I’m actually pretty surprised you didn’t see it for what it really was.

A declaration of war.

A declaration of war, Thaddeus. A surprise attack devised to throw you off your game, ruin your big basking in the sun moment after your long awaited win over Flynn, and take you over my knee. And as the “cunning strategist” that you supposedly are, I’m shocked I tell you, SHOCKED that you missed that. And spare us all that “I knew it was coming” bullshit. Because if you knew it was coming (and by your own admission didn’t “let me win”) then that seems like a Waterloo level strategic fuckup to me. Note to Thad’s soldier boys, maybe it’s time to put boss man out to pasture, because it seems like his logistical acumen may not be what it once was.

Thad, you are full bore displaying your entire ass every time you open your mouth. You are so objectively in the wrong here, if there was a Top 10 list of the most wrongheaded people in history, you would be sharing nine spots with the guy who invented chocolate flavored dental dams. Because when you’re ass to mouth, nothing speaks to you like Hershey’s chocolate.

Okay, I made up the chocolate dental dams thing. There Thad, now that was a lie. Now you have something to clutch onto.

Folks, tune in next time when Thad Duke again goes for the gold in mental gymnastics. I’m sure it promises to be just as mediocre as every second of his trash talk.

Corey returns his attention to the Doc.

I feel better already! Thanks, man. He checks his watch. Ooof, I gotta run. Next week still good?

Of course, Corey. And I’m glad I could help.

Corey nods and springs to his feet, heading to the coat rack to snag his jacket. But upon retrieving it, we see a limp suit of peeled human flesh hanging just behind it. Corey remains oblivious and doesn’t notice it. See ya Doc!

The doctor cringes and waves a meek goodbye to Corey. But hey, he has nothing to be ashamed of. He did a great job of driving the point home.

THEN


Corey eased off the trigger, recalling the trigger discipline that Lux had drilled into his head what seemed like an entire lifetime ago. Jace’s eyes were still locked on Corey’s maintaining that sense of placation that Corey was still struggling with. He didn’t trust Jace. He never trusted Jace. How the hell was he going to be able to depend on him to get out of this mess?

What do we do? Corey hissed as quietly as possible. Jace reached behind him and unclipped a metallic sphereoid from his belt, causing Corey’s eyes to go wide.

Fire in the hole. Jace replied simply, pulling the pin on the fragmentation grenade and lobbing it through the doorway. Corey ducked to the side reflexively as cries of alarm resounded from the hall, followed by a loud crack and a reverberation in the walls. Jace nodded to Corey and eased the door back open with the barrel of his gun, chancing a brief look into the hallway. Corey could hear the sounds of someone moaning in pain.

They’re down. Let’s move.

With haste they made their way into the hall, but the scene that lay in wait put Corey to shame. Corey’s euphoria had drawn down to nothing, leaving no more glistening for the blood that had been let onto the floor and walls. Miraculously, a hanging light had survived the conflagration and was dancing back and forth, licking away at the shadows and then permitting them again.

There was one survivor. His expression was crazed and desperate, and he reached for the ragged ruination of his legs beneath the knee. Her barely took notice when Jace came about him, leveled the gun at his head, and fired. Corey flinched and turned away.

If you don’t have the stomach for it…

Let’s just go.

Go they did, working down the corridors, ears panning for wayward sounds of danger. Finally, they hit upon voices approaching, voices that carried with them an earnestness for revenge. Jace pulled Corey off to the left and practically tossed him into a large broom closet. There, Jace set about pulling out a ladder from the corner. He climbed it, then went to work on the ventilation grate in the ceiling.

That will lead us out? He whispered.

It’ll get us close enough. Listen at the door.

Corey did so, slinking up to it and thanking fate as the angry voices receded. Jace worked the grate free and started clambering up into the shaft. With one final look at the door, Corey hastily followed suit. Jace took hold of the back of Corey’s shirt to hoist him in, and then replaced the grate to cover their egress. They crawled away from the broom closet, the ducts thick with dust and cobwebbing and scarcely wide enough for their shoulders. It was slow going, shimmying through the ductwork while trying to remain as silent as possible. They had done so for about a half hour before Jace came to a stop.

I need to rest. His voice sounded haggard. Corey again remembered just how sick this man was.

Did you dose yourself earlier?

I dosed myself two weeks ago. It didn't work.

Corey scrunched up his face in confusion. But you said….

I know what I said. Jace’s voice was barely above an impatient growl. This was never about me.

I… Corey stopped, the pieces mentally affixing together. This was always about Amari. And he wasn’t coming with us. Why did you tell me you hadn’t tried it yet?

Because I knew I would need help. And I didn’t want you to think you were tethering yourself to a sick man’s dying wish. I thought maybe you wouldn’t come.

Corey’s initial feelings of betrayal gave way to a sort of small sadness. The sympathy he could feel for this man, a hardnened drug dealer, had limits. But….

Maybe there’s a chance he’ll change his mind?

He won’t.

Why?

Because I told him what Madison’s plans for him were. I told him that once he became an Engineer, he wouldn’t be himself anymore. Jace paused. He asked me if I had ever considered that that was precisely what he wanted.

That statement was answer enough in itself. Corey tried to fathom the level of shame that would bring a young man to such a conclusion. How terrible his life of violence had been that he would want to be so utterly consumed by something so alien.

I’m sorry. But I’m grateful you’re still helping me.

Jace didn’t respond, a silence that gave Corey a quick burst of anxiety. Are you still helping me for much longer?

Come on.

Jace started to push ahead, but Corey stopped him. Wait. We can’t leave without taking care of Madison. You know what she’ll do. She’ll never stop hunting us. She’ll turn your son into a monster. I….I understand what that’s like…

You aren’t telling me anything I don’t already know. We’re about 500 feet from an entry point into her chamber. She dies tonight.

You’re a good man. Christian’s words came to him again. And at first, he wasn’t sure why. But as they continued their ascent, it occurred to Corey he knew why but was desperately avoiding it. He was on his way to kill the woman he had already killed once. Coordinating with a murderer to free his vicious son from her clutches and heal himself to he could take his revenge on Thad Duke.

Corey looked at Jace and, for a moment, couldn’t help seeing himself reflected back.

To be concluded....

[Image: CoreySig6A.png?width=270&height=406]
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