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An electronic chirp. A click.
The door swept open and he stepped in, his back going rigid at the foamy carnage coating the floor. His momentary shock was enough to take him by surprise.
I cried out as I launched at him, the pain in my leg forgotten as I wrapped them around his middle the same time I pulled the cord tight around his neck, dragging my fists back and down as though if I just pulled hard enough I could take his head clean off his shoulders.
He choked, clawing at his neck, his hard body flexing with bone and muscle as he fought to shake me off. The acrid scent of rotting limes filling my nose, making me gag.
I twisted my fists behind his neck, feeling the cord cut into my flesh.
“Come on,” I hissed in his ear. “Go to sleep, motherfucker.”
My stomach lurched as he pushed us backward until my back connected with the wall, a sliver where there was still enough foam to cushion the blow, but still the air left my lungs in a gush and I fought to maintain my hold on the cord, stars in my eyes.
He spluttered, almost no sound escaping his lips as he hunched, pressing his neck harder into the cord before he slammed me back again.
My sight darkened as the back of my skull connected with the sticky cement wall and my fists loosened, fingers slipping as I was thrown, my body flipping over Drake’s to bounce hard on the foamy floor.
Somewhere, he was coughing. I could feel him, his nearness as I fought with everything I had to come out of the semi-unconscious state, trying to see through the black. To feel through the numbness.
No.
No.
I reached out blindly, wavering as I found my feet, claws slashing, ready to tear his face clean from his skull.
“Come at me,” I screeched, the pitch of my own voice painful in my ears.
He did, the blackness abating just enough for me to dodge his attack and land a violent hit to the back of his neck, sending him careening forward to catch himself on the wall.
I slid my right leg behind me, lowering my body in a fighting stance as he turned back to me. I launched into a full attack before he could make his first move, but he deftly deflected my advance and suddenly there were two of him. The twin Drakes moving together and apart and together again.
“Stop,” he growled hoarsely, and his voice in my ears only spurred the darkness into a feral frenzy.
I attacked again, and he knocked me away.
“You’ve lost too much blood, Angel,” he continued, shoving me hard enough to send me to the floor on my next advance. I pushed myself up on my arms and the traitorous things shook beneath me, my palms slipping on something wet and thick beneath the foam.
Blood. It was blood. My blood.
I glanced down, finding my leg entirely red with it. A puddle of crimson forming in the foam around my knee.
Shit.
It didn’t matter.
I roared as I went for his ankle in the tight space, pulling it in a sharp motion to make him fall. His back connected with the ground for barely a second before he was pulling his ankle away, pulling me through the foam, flipping me onto my back, my wrists pinned as I stared half consciously into his brown eyes.
“Stop fighting,” he roared.
“Never,” I growled, spitting into his face.
He released my wrist, and I struck his nose, crunching it under my palm, but not before I felt the familiar sting of a needle sliding out of my neck.
NO.
A scalding tear rolled from the edge of my eye and down into my hairline as I felt the warm gush of whatever he injected me with sliding down my collarbone and into my chest. Filling me with a numbness so complete I thought it might paralyze my lungs. That I may not be able to breathe.
Was I breathing?
