A few hours passed, laying in the hospital bed with my arms both cuffed to the bed posts. I was placed in Ren’s room, in hopes that a friend would help calm me down. I hate to say it, but their songs hit home.
A side effect of Ren’s song was empathic, from what I understood. Ren could influence the emotions of those that heard their song.
At first I tried to resist, I really did. With my arms restrained, I had no means to cover my ears. I wanted to feel the anger. I needed to feel it, this burning rage. But Ren sang, soothing my seething fury.
After I had returned to a ‘civil’ state, some doctors and nurses entered the room and appraised my health. Other than the incredibly potent infection in my lungs, scrapes and a skinned knee, I was pretty healthy. Two weeks of intensive antibacterial meds later, and I was cleared from quarantine. None of the staff who treated me contracted the infection either, thanks largely to the files recovered from the bridge base.
The infection was unlike anything they’d ever seen. Most bacteria are single cellular organisms, but these were an exception. The files mentioned a sort of bacterial colony which had been exposed to numerous viruses, producing a super bacteriophage. These superphages, as we came to call them, were able to communicate, and even combine into multicellular structures.
Ren had some familiarity with these superphages, though it seemed sirens were incompatible. We developed many theories as to why, though the likeliest reason was that the cells could not exist between the siren’s hot and cold blood.
These cells were also highly reactive to radio-frequency, which is believed to be why the troll knew I was approaching, and could track me so well.
Research began into means of taking superphages out of commission via radio-frequencies. The troll was an ample source of samples, so testing was mostly smooth.
So long as we kept the troll entertained and fed, it was mostly calm. It was like a toddler. An oversized, steroid sponge of a toddler, but a toddler. Unfortunately, the troll had almost no capacity for memory, and had nothing useful to speak of when it came to the Doctor. Lucky for me, the troll already forgot my having shot out its knee, subsequent shooting out of both its knees and eyes, and then the whole impalement. Goldfish had a better memory.
Ted had many reservations about granting me access to the new batch of files, but he caved in eventually. They were the mother load.
An itemized list of labs all over, nearly identical to my predictions. Three whole filing cabinets overflowing with logs, notes, and experiments, all I’m the Doctor’s careful calligraphy. Scrolling through those papers felt like uncovering a lost tomb.
My archeological fantasy aside, the documents were decades worth of experiments dated within the last three years. It was insane.
The troll… had a rough time… a very rough time…
To put it as lightly as possible, the Doctor intentionally impeded the troll’s kidneys, heart, and other major organs. By replicating the most crucial functions of the various compromised organs, the Doctor managed to accelerate and exacerbate certain symptoms. Namely, swelling.
Through repeatedly sending them into organ failure and freezing the swelling before it had the chance to go down, the Doctor managed to transfuse more and more blood into the troll until it was massive. It’s hard to explain.
Through bone transplants from various large animals, the Doctor managed to construct an entirely artificial bone structure. The lack of oxygen to the brain due to a miscalculation caused immense brain damage, impairing the troll’s memory and most other faculties.
Lastly, the Doctor administered the superphage cells in bulk, replacing the troll’s blood in its entirety. That explains why I saw no blood no matter what injuries it sustained. In order to orchestrate the superphage colony, a cutting edge pacemaker was installed in place of its heart. Whenever it recieved radio waves, it would charge. So long as the bacteria had instructions, and the pacemaker was charged, the troll was unkillable.
This had me concerned. Very concerned.
By all accounts and revenues, this experiment was a complete success. Save for the brain damage, the Doctor had completed each task he’d set out for. So why throw away a success?
I began to form a theory. And it chilled me to the bone.
He was watching.
“Ted, it’s urgent!” I shouted, slamming a fist on his door. In retrospect, I likely sounded mad.
“Cyr, just because I’m up at two in the morning does not mean you should wake everyone else up,” Ted scolded, groggily walking toward the door to unlock it.
“Sir, this floor is completely soundproofed. Not to mention, the only people authorized to visit this floor are up anyways. If they aren’t, we need to change that” I mumbled under my breath, aware that this would most certainly not help my case.
“Cyr. What?” Ted spat, peering through the crack as he slightly opened the door. I wasted no time, sliding a balled up paper through the door. “Just checking in, sir,” I backtracked, now that I’d delivered the message.
“You… God dammit Cyr” Ted groaned, slamming the door and trudging back to his desk. I heard him open a drawer, then uncrinkle what I assumed was my message. I turned around and made my way to my unofficial bedroom, where Ren was impatiently waiting.
We had to sleep with the lights on, which I was perfectly comfortable with. Between my growing traumas, which I never admit to out loud, and Ren’s discomfort when they’re lower half lights up, we agreed the lights could stay on.
I’d grown accustomed to sleepless nights, the leftover superphages occasionally sending a twinge through my body. I couldn’t go longer than two hours without a throb or stabbing sensation randomly across my body.
Another strange happening concerns my prosthetic leg. Combined with the superphages, the leg was so close to the original thing that even to most medical professionals, it was indistinguishable. Begrudgingly, Ted finally allowed me to use it publicly… On the one condition that I’d lose it if someone became suspicious.
My first time back in the station was under four hours away, which meant I was returning to my Austin. Ren and I chatted the hours away, until my alarm broke our musical early morning. I said my goodbyes, reassuring Ren that normal cases were safe and I’d be okay.
I pulled into my reserved spot, three down from Bill’s. To my chagrin, his car was idling in its spot. I opened my door, then walked over to the driver’s side window.
Empty.
I whirled around just in time as Bill lunged from the other side of the car, shouting “BOO-dammit?”
I glared down at him, having dodged his attempt at an embrace. He quickly pushed himself off of the ground, scratching the back of his neck and chuckling.
“As sharp as ever, ey, Cyr. I see you haven’t lost your edge over the year and a half you’ve been off.” Bill slapped a hand on my shoulder, pulling me into a suffocating embrace.
Had it really been that long since I’d been here? I really had lost touch with the rest of the world, focusing so much on tracking the Doctor. Without a family or pets to tend to, I really didn’t have too many responsibilities.
The initial shock from that reality check quickly faded, and I began tapping my foot. I knew Bill. He was nosy. Beyond that, he was hiding something. The goofier he was, the worse the news was. “Spill it,” I sighed, tilting my head back and staring up into the dawn sky.
Bill pouted at first, then frowned, then grimaced. “I knew you were returning today, and I was permitted to select another detective for me to shadow. I’ve had little luck tracking down a group of serial thieves, you see,” Bill began for the back door of the station. I followed a step behind him.
“This group, they call themselves The Bucks. They wear deer masks, carry twin barbed daggers, like antlers, and have a body count of thirty three.” Bill paused, holding the door for me. I thanked him as I walked inside.
“They came east from Texas, where they were chased out of state. They took their first life in a botched robbery, then fell quiet for a couple months. About three weeks after you-wait you still have your leg?!” Bill blurted, realizing I did, in fact, have a leg still. Only took him fifteen minutes. Great work, champ.
“Doctors managed to save it after all, now continue,” I ordered, holding my breath. Lucky me, he bought it.
“Three weeks after you didn’t lose your leg, apparently, the Bucks resurfaced here in Florida. They had heavy weaponry, unloading an entire M1919 on a city block, killing eight and robbing the bank on that block. From there, the Bucks have killed an additional twenty four people across eleven robberies,” Bill punched in, then held out his hand for my punch card, which he punched for me.
“We got a tip off on their next target, and it’s tonight. Sorry for the short notice, but we’re heading out in an hour to secure the area.”
And there it was. I knew it was coming, but hearing it out loud didn’t make it any easier. I felt guilty that I’d be immediately in harm’s way so quickly after promising Ren that I’d stay safe.
Later that night, Bill and I crouched behind the teller desks, across from the front door. We had bolted the back door and barricaded every other conceivable entrance. After pulling nearly a dozen strings, we managed to close the bank so no civilians would be in harm’s way. At least some people could be safe.
The clock struck 9, accompanied by hell unleashing. The peace was ruined as an onslaught of bullets riddled the lobby, obliterating potted plants and furniture and shattering glass. Rubble trickled over our heads, caking our already dust covered forms. The bank was poorly maintained, and absolutely filthy.
I cringed as memories from both my leg and the troll flashed before my eyes. My chest tightened as I started breathing heavily. No matter how much air I took in, it wasn’t enough. My muscles tightened as I lay curled up in a ball, until a stabbing pain shot through my left rib cage.
At first I thought I’d been hit. I shot my hand to where I had felt the jolt of pain, finding no blood, nor any more pain. It took a few seconds, but I remembered the superphages caused random pains. I reasoned that the pain was their doing, and had inadvertently brought me back from the edge of a panic attack.
Something fiddled with the door at the entrance, until something clicked. “Got it!” A woman shouted, followed by at least eight pairs of legs speeding into the lobby.
“No un’s ‘ere, it’s a setup” a nearly unintelligible southern man stated.
“Shu’it Bobbie, we ain’t go’ time for you an’ your con-cern-suh” an even more unintelligible southern woman scolded.
Another pair of heavy footfalls entered the lobby, snarling.
“Hurry up, filthy bucks. Where is my meal?” A bone chilling whisper passed through the lobby.
The woman sounded weak for a moment, say “relax, we’ll fig’re it out. Le’us do our thin’ an’ we’ll getcha yer flesh.”
“We’ll ‘ead to th’ vault,” two men said shakily in unison, as two pairs of steps headed our way.
The door to the vault floor was behind the counter. In order for the Bucks to get there, they’d have to get past us.
One of them smashed the butt of their rifle into the glass, then reached down and opened the lock.
Dammit, plain glass.
A man dressed in camo shorts and a Longhorns t-shirt strolled into the area behind the counter. Where Bill and I were.
Where’s back-up?! I screamed internally, this was not going as planned. After they unloaded and made for the door, the cavalry was supposed to close in. Where were they?!
Either way, we had to improvise. I just prayed Bill would stay where he was.
The two men disappeared through the vault floor door. That left six up here.
“Can’ice, ge’ ou’side ‘nd gaurd th’ car. Som’in’s fishy ‘ere” the near gibberish speaking woman blabbered.
Both a pair of lighter footfalls and the heavier pair went outside. Whatever that thing was, it was no longer inside with us.
Five more left.
“Sam, Owen, ‘elp th’ twins” the lady instructed, sending two more men downstairs.
Three left. We could work with this.
I delicately placed my ear to the floor, listening as the men descended the stairwell. Once I heard them shut the door downstairs, I was satisfied. I motioned to Bill to fire on three.
I counted down on my hand, three… my middle finger folded. Two… my index finger folded. One! As my thumb folded on my right hand, I shot up, aimed for a body, and fired center mass.
A second shot accompanied my own, two figures collapsed forwards onto their stomachs. Luckily, their backs were turned to us. My shot hit the left lung and Bill shot right above the heart.
The woman screeched like a banshee, lifting her rifle and taking aim. A white shape peeked out from the unmarked car, a rattled young woman beside it. It had a deer skull for a head, and was incredibly malnourished. It’s too long limbs were extremely skeletal, as though it had never eaten in its life.
Before she could open fire, however, a green and blue flash struck down from the ceiling, bisecting the woman.
“Shit!” “Jesus!” And other expletives were hurled from every mouth present, as a blood chilling sound exploded in the room. A wispy chuckle floated in from the deer skulled thing, shortly before it disappeared from sight.
Blue and green, aquamarine lights filled the contaminated air. The light’s source kept moving from desk to countertop to shelf to corner, too bright and too quickly to identify.
I didn’t need to see it to know what it was. I knew in my gut that it had escaped. It followed me.
“Ren!” I screamed, firing my M1911 mere inches over their head, and through the neck of ‘Can’ice.’
The four men below us began spraying bullets up through the floor, catching me in my good calf and Bill twice in his right forearm. Bill was right handed. That meant he was out of commission. Shit.
Then matters grew far, far worse.
A pale green fist the size of a Great Dane smashed through the front door, and part of the wall around the door.
“Leave Ren a-lone!” The gravelly voice I knew far too well, screamed in anger.
The fist, larger than I had last seen it, hammered at the floor until a crater opened up straight to the vault. Ren dashed through the opening and began a rapid, staccato of a melody. The men all cried out in terror, before collapsing at the same time.
That’s where the backup was… tracking the two escapees… God fucking dammit.