Chapter Five

-He lays passive on the floor, breathing heavily. He'd already healed the wounds. The ribs had reset, his wrist and ankle were already in place. All that remained of the episode was the blood. It was splattered and sprayed all over the walls and on the floor. As he lay on his back, he could see where arterial spray had hit the ceiling. Damn.

But nothing hurt. No pain. Nothing to show that he'd had his ass handed to him. Royally. He hadn't survived a beat-down that badly since Sarge.

With a sigh, he pushed himself to his feet and went looking for more. Penance. Atonement. Absolution. Call it what you will, John felt it weighing him down-

Micah Watson *so he'd spent an entire day to himself. it was a dark day. Dreary to be sure. And now? Now he was someplace, dark... dark. Dark? Where was he. He vaguely remembered walking by himself in the woods, then a club to the back of the head. then nothing. Now here he was in a room by himself, and he felt the weight of something heavy around his ankle. He looked down, his eyes quickly adjusting to the dark and saw the shackle holding him to the floor.

Instantly panic rose inside him and he pulled at it, wondering what the hell was going on. But as it burned his fingertips he realized his folly. The shackle was around his booted ankle because it was a silver shackle. he hissed, pulling his hands back and looking around the dark room, calling out for help* HELP!!! HELP!!!! I'M IN HERE!!! ANYBODY!!!!!! *he screamed at the top of his lungs, his panic filling him. With no way out of the silver shackle, no weapons and... well no idea what was going on, he was lost.. if only SOMEONE would show himself....*

John Grimm -The hole he'd been thrown into gave the illusion of freedom. He walked the labyrinth underground before realizing that he was not only hopelessly lost, but he wasn't alone. He could smell things. Blood and other, darker things. Wrinkling his nose, he pushed further on until he came to a bank of cells. Weird. All but one were empty. And in the last cell... - Micah? What the hell?

-He pulled on the door, wondering what had been used to seal it. No matter how hard he tried, it wouldn't budge.

The footsteps behind drew his attention and he spun. Whatever it was it stood easily a good few feet over him and smelled. As it passed underneath a shaft of light, it smiled. The teeth were blackened and had been filed to sharp points. He could smell the fetid breath as it closed in-

Welcome -it hissed- Shall we begin?

-Confused, John tried to sidestep it. Begin what? Before he could ask, it pointed at him. Pointed. And whatever it was that drifted from its fingers hit him like a shock wave. As he fell back against the wall, he heard a surprised shout come from somewhere before knowing only darkness.-

Micah Watson *he heard a familiar voice coming from the other side of the door and he tried to stand* John?! *he called, trying to rush the door. He only made it a few feet before he was yanked right off of them and face planting on the ground. he hissed in pain, only to hear john cry out in pain and a solid thud. His eyes wide end and he scrambled to his feet* JOHN! JOHN ARE YOU ALRIGHT!?

*he yelped when a stream of light hit him and his eyes widened. There in the doorway stood a large hulking monster, and in his arms was john, unconscious. he stared at him for the longest time before the monster ducked, entered the room and approached him* D-don! DON'T!!! *he yelled, kicking out at the monster. But when his foot struck the beast, he felt a shock run through him and he screamed, being floored in a twitchy pile* Dammit!!!

*but he didn't give up just yet. When the creature loomed over him he kicked out again, knocking several razor sharp teeth out. but the clawed hand that wrapped around his throat was anything but forgiving, and he wheezed, his air supply choked off and long claws puncturing his throat. Within moments he was limp, bleeding and strangled nearly to death as he was dragged form the cell with john towards uncertainty*

John Grimm -He woke slowly. Tensing only a little, he realized he was moving. Whatever the hell that thing had been had him tossed over its shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He blinked and tried to put his brain back in order. Weird. Whenever he'd been in situations where he'd been thrown, he was back up and raring to go as soon as he regained consciousness.

This wasn't the case.

He could smell other things now. Oil. Bleach. Things he didn't have names for yet. Not sure what to expect, he waited to see what the beast would do. The fur he was currently laying on was matted with things he didn't want to readily thing about.

Swallowing hard, he tried to crane his neck to see his surroundings. A bird's eye view of the monster's ass and the floor weren't doing much to help him. That was when he spotted Micah. The vampire was unconscious. Damn. Well, at least they were together.

The beast dropped the unconscious vampire on the ground in a heap before flinging John bodily into the wall. His skull cracked on impact and he lay groaning softly on the ground. Unfortunately, consciousness wouldn't leave him and he healed while he watched it loom over him before pulling out a large nail-covered bat.- Oh shit.

Micah Watson *laying on the floor in a heap, he slowly, slowly gained consciousness back. He coughed, feeling blood running down his neck from where the claws had dug into his throat. He held the cuts with his hand, looking around the room in a haze. So... at least john was mostly awake. But the moment the vampire saw the nail covered back like a crudely formed mace, his eyes widened* NO!!! *he screamed, struggling to his feet... er, foot...

The minute he put weight down on his right foot, a scream unlike anything he'd ever uttered left his mouth. he crumpled, the pain of a 1000 hot suns running up his leg as he looked down to the blood soaked and dripping boot. His foot was awkwardly placed and a puddle was forming under it. he'd broken his ankle and it was a bad one. severe compound fracture. Hell he was sure that if the boot hadn't been there he'd have lost the foot altogether!

Grabbing his leg, he dragged it behind him as he turned back to john, watching him stare at the monster, frozen* JOHN! WHAT ARE YOU DOING! RUN!!!! *he screamed. Of course that wouldn't last as he felt something lassoed around his already bleeding throat, and yank him back. he tripped, feeling him self being dragged to the wall. He looked up, seeing the v-shaped blades sticking out and the rope pulling him back towards it* NO NO NO!!! *he cried, his hands scrambling onto he smooth floor to try and gain a grip*

John Grimm -Run? John struggled to his feet as the thing advanced with the bat. He was healed as he stood and ducked the first swing. He aimed a kick at the thing's knee, earning a low wail of pain from it. Good to know. He rolled and tried to grab Micah, keeping him from certain death. He had almost reached Micah when the beast grabbed a handful of his hair and dragged him back, baring his neck.

He flailed, hoping to confuse the beast, which of course earned him an open-palmed slap to the face. He sputtered, stunned that it would resort to such a tactic. But the surprise was short-lived. Using his hair as leverage, it pulled him up and took a good, healthy bite on his shoulder. He screamed in pain, bringing up his opposite arm to try to put out its eyes.

And was thrown into the wall for his trouble. This was just not his day.-

Micah Watson *he watched in horror as the beast took a titanic chomp out of his shoulder. When John was thrown against the wall, Micah felt the jolt of the rope against his throat and he screamed, inching closer to the blades. But no matter how hard he pulled and tugged at the rope, it wouldn't move or tear. it only tightened. He looked up at john, his eyes wide in shock and fear* JOHN!!!! *he screamed, terror evident in his voice.

*suddenly the rope yanked hard, retracting into the wall. He screamed, being yanked back. But the scream was cut off, his eyes wide in shock. a little trickled of blood ran from his mouth, as what little synapses of his mind, made his eyes look down at his body on the floor. Then blackness. His head rolled off the blades to the floor with a solid "thump" his body twitching and squirting onto the stone floor below before his whole being went completely still*

John Grimm -He blinked blearily as he pushed himself to his feet /again/ and faced off against the thing. It blocked his view of Micah momentarily, but chose to move just as he watched the blades decapitate his friend.- MICAH!!!!

-Rushing forward, he earned himself a face full of nail-covered bat. The pain that sang through him was deafening. He felt the rusty metal pulling the flesh from his face, and his own skin trying to heal around the filthy instrument. He screamed again as it dragged him along with it, before falling silent. The beast picked him up by the throat, cutting off his air as it pulled the bat away from his face.

The pain was exquisite as he felt the blood dripping down his face from the nails where they had come loose from his skin. He aimed another kick as the thing snapped his neck like a twig and threw him across the room and onto a pile of broken bones. Obviously the room had been used many, many times.-

Micah Watson *his head and body lay on the floor in a massive growing red puddle, the last few twitches rushing through his limbs. But as he lay there, suddenly his head as if magnetized, moved towards his body slowly. When it was close his head suddenly snapped into place on his body, and he suddenly sucked in a breath of air. Screaming in his throat, he screamed sitting up with a wild look on his face. Micah looked around the room, seeing john thrown, bloody into a pile of bones. He looked down to see that his ankle was now healed as well and he, confused as fuck, stumbled to his feet.

But there was no time for confusion. His friend was being beaten to shit. Snarling loudly, he bolted for the two of them, jumping onto the monster's back as he clawed at him wildly* LET HIM GO!!! YOU FUCKER LET HIM GO!!! *he didn't get very many hits out before the huge thing grabbed him by the clothes and yanked him off. he was thrown into the pile of bones with John, seeing the wounds on his face slowly healing* JOHN! we cant fight it we have to run! *he screamed, grabbing him by the collar and trying to drag him away* Come ON!!!! LET'S GO!

John Grimm -Neck healed, John sucked in a sharp breath of his own. His eyes snapped open and he looked around wildly. Gaze falling on the hulking monstrosity as it closed in, he reached for a sharpened bone wielding it like a knife. It wouldn't do any good, he knew. Didn't stop him from trying.- Micah... get out. NOW.

-He stood slowly and tried to draw it away from his friend. If only one got out, he wanted it to be the vampire.- I'll draw it off. RUN!

Micah Watson ARE YOU DAFT I'M NOT LEAVING YOU HERE!! *he yelled. Suddenly he looked up, seeing the sharp bone above them and he yelped, dragging john away. Just where they were standing the beast lunged down to try and attack them and he cried out* MOVE!!! BLOODY MOVE!!!!

*he dragged john away towards the nearest door, kicking at it. It wouldn't budge. He screamed, kicking and shouldering it repeatedly* FUCK FUCK FUCK WHY WONT IT OPEN! its acting like I'm as weak as a human! *he cried, looking up. The monster was coming for them and he screamed* MOVE!! *with that he kicked john away from the door and leapt to the side. But again it grabbed his ankle and dragged him back. Rag dolling him through the air, the monster slammed Micah into the stone floor repeatedly until every bone in his body was broken and he was bloody. Without another move, the monster threw the limp vampire through the air and clotheslined John, sending the two sprawling across the floor, the broken vampire groaning from his many broken limbs*

John Grimm -He didn't have enough to roll his eyes at Micah's heroic antics. Instead he followed suit, trying to get the damned door to open. When it wouldn't budge, he brandished his meager weapon. In the end, it didn't matter. John found himself slammed into yet another wall as the boneless form of Micah slammed into him. He grunted softly and tried to crawl to his feet, to put himself between his friend and the beast.

It smiled at him. He stared it down as he climbed to his feet and saw why. During their flight, it had picked up a rather wicked looking scimitar. The blade was ragged and had blackened spots on it. Blood. He moved away from Micah, putting distance between the vampire and himself.

When it swung, he dodged easily, throwing himself backward.

He wasn't expecting the electrified whip in its other hand. The shock was enough to stun him momentarily. That was when it struck. Blow after blow, it dismembered him until nothing but blood and other thicker things remained. He couldn't even scream after the first blow, as he was still reeling from the shock of the whip-

Micah Watson *Micah lay on the floor, his body slowly healing for the second time. But he was so weak he couldn't move, and only watched in horror as the monster quickly dismembered him, his eyes wide. He felt bile boiling up the back of his throat and he swallowed it down, slowly rolling over as his body mended, bone by bone.* J-John... JOHN!! 8he wheezed, crawling towards the dismembered body. he felt tears at his eyes at all of this and he whimpered* You bloody cur... you bastard. WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?! *he screamed, looking up at the monster. He was so preoccupied he didn't see john's body slowly melding back together as his own did.

Instead he stood up, facing the creature as it raised that nasty scimitar above him. He roared, his eyes shading black and he LEAPED n the monster, tackling it back as he clawed at its eyes viciously* LET US GO YOU FUCKING BITCH!!!!!

John Grimm -It took what seemed like ages before John's body was back in one piece. He was covered in an obscene amount of blood and slipped as he stood, facing where Micah was attacking the beast.- HEY! FUCKFACE! You forgot something!

-He turned and grabbed for the scimitar, thankful for his superhuman strength. Whatever it was made of, the thing was /heavy/. He waited til Micah was clear before swinging the blade. It embedded itself into the beast's stomach, where he found he couldn't pull it back out- COME ON!

-He moved back out of the way, trying not to slip in his blood that coated the floor and looked for another weapon. Thankfully, there were plenty.-

Micah Watson *Micah wasn't even aware of John up and moving as he clawed and ripped at the thing's eyes. he popped one out easily and ripped it from the corneal nerve, throwing it across the room and ripping at its face. it screamed as he did so, but that didn't stop him. When john stuck it with the sword, he jumped down, grabbing for it and ripping it out. he didn't care. He was in animal mode now, his face contorted into a vicious snarl. He swung the blade, his hands sticky and tacky from his earlier beheading and body smashing, cutting at it again and again. With a fell swipe, he managed to cut one of its hands off, watching the clawed thing fly across the room and the jutting bone waving in front of his face.

He roared in triumph going in for a second blow. But before he could land it, he felt the sharp bone pierce his stomach and he screamed as the beast lifted him, digging its remaining claws into his gaping stomach. He didn't stop, as he swung the sword at the beast landing a solid blow at its back. But it was too much. The bone was eviscerating him slowly, ropes of guts hanging out of the hole in his abdomen like banners as he coughed up a throw of blood, onto the floor* John... GET IT!!!

John Grimm -He growled low and menacingly as he grabbed for the very same bat with nails that had been used on him. He advanced on the beast and began pummeling it over and over, using every ounce of strength he had. The head of the beast became so much pulpy soup. When he'd finished the head, he began moving down and beating the innards out of the beast. He was shouting wordlessly as he did, not caring that he was flinging yet /more/ blood and offal and other, thicker things over his already bloodied form.

Finally, the thing stopped moving and he backed away, dropping the bat. He leaned heavily against the wall and looked at Micah, one brow raised in confusion. What the ever loving hell had just happened? Why were they here? /Where/ were they? And how could they blow this location off the face of the planet? He really wanted to make it explode. A lot-

Micah Watson *he lay on the floor where the thing had thrown him panting heavily. He weakly, painfully shoved his guts back into his body, yelping loudly as he did so. Now it was just a matter of holding his stomach closed until the wound healed over. god he hoped he got everything in right*

John.. *he croaked, looking up at him* john... we've got to get out of here now. *he panted, slowly sitting up* whatever this is... its keeping us as a toy. I don't like this. Let's go. NOW *he begged, limping over to him*

John Grimm -He nodded and looked from the bloody, lumpy mass on the floor to the door. If that door didn't open, he would claw and punch his way through a wall. He was /done/.

Not trusting himself to speak, knowing he was still ready to scream incoherently and curse a blue streak, he walked to the door. He pushed on it, amazed when it opened on the first try. The rusty hinges screamed in protest, but the door opened. He turned to Micah and managed to grit out- Stay behind me. Whatever you do, just ... stay behind me.

-He had no clue what had happened to have caused such horror, but he was desperately wanting to get out. And he /really/ wanted some fucking napalm. Or C4. Something. /Anything/ at that point.-

Micah Watson *he moved to follow him to the door but paused. he ran back to the pile of weapons and picked up another sword, holding it in his hand. it was lighter than the scimitar but easier to take along* I'm not going without a weapon. Ive got your back. You get us out of here, you re the better tracker *he said looking at john with hard eyes. This was going to need some major therapy when it was all said and done*

Stepping out the door he followed john down the hall, his nerves shot to hell. he jumped at every noise, his anger boiling under the surface. He was so close to snapping like a wild animal it even scared himself. So he kept close to john, keeping himself calm and collected* which way now

John Grimm -He moved nearly silently. Thankfully, he'd had enough presence of mind to keep the bat. The air was thick with blood and offal, making him wrinkle his nose. He listened to everything, stiff-shouldered and alert. He paused at a junction and listened. Head cocked, he pointed to the left- that way...

-He cut a glance Micah's way and started toward the left, ignoring the screams of what had to be other prisoners (participants?) in various holding cells. And while John normally wanted to save them all, he found he had been pushed to the point where he just wanted /out/. He'd been beaten, dismembered and tortured. Not for information, not for anything other than sadistic glee.

He kept his head up, and focused on getting them out of the hell that they'd fallen into.-

Micah Watson *he nodded, following his friend down the corridor. he shut off his mind to the other cries. they were all lost now and if they stopped to help they would be dead too. He closed his eyes, holding the sword tightly in his hand. Stepping lightly, he kept glancing over his shoulder looking for anyone that would be following them.

But... it seemed as if that were not the case. He frowned, looking up at John as they walked* how much further. no one is following us and this worries me greatly....

John Grimm -He stopped again and looked around, eyes narrowed- Something's wrong.

-He turned and looked at Micah, not sure what had happened. They had been on the right track to get the hell out of wherever it was they were...and without making any additional turns or stops, they were back where they started.- Micah.. that's the room we just left. What the hell?

-His voice was hushed, not wanting it to carry over or be heard. He looked at Micah and shook his head- I don't get it...

Micah Watson *he stared around the room, his eyes recognizing it.* but.. th-ats impossible *he looked to where the body of the beast had been and his eyes widened* john... the monster's gone.. *he said pointing to the blood soaked spot on the ground, void of monster.

He ran for the door and yanked it open again. But the corridor was different this time. he frowned, looking back at John* This isn't right... this place... it doesn't want us to leave.. *he said his voice shaking with rage* where in god's name are we...

John Grimm -He growled a soft string of curses and looked around- I don't know. Hell? This is what I would picture Hell to be. -He leaned a shoulder against the wall and looked around- I don't know. I don't recognize anything. And nothing../feels/ right.

-He sighed and scrubbed a dirty hand over and equally dirty face and grumbled to himself.- Why would we be brought here to be punished? What purpose?

-He could hear skittering claws on the rocky surface of the ground and turned, trying to see in the darkness.- Something's coming...

Micah Watson *he heard the footsteps and he whirled around. his vision caught something in the shadows, but it moved too fast for him to catch it. however, the scent was growing strong and his eyes narrowed* ... spiders *he hissed looking up at John.

But when he did his eyes widened and he gasped* ... DUCK!!! *he screamed tackling john to the floor. just as he did a MASSIVE spider, Labrador sized, jumped from the shadows where john's head had been moments before. he jumped to his feet, seeing the spiders coming for them and he held the sword tightly in his fist* if you have anything at all to make fire with start working on it NOW

John Grimm -Anything but spiders. Damn. DamndamndamnDAMN! John had to fight though his phobia to get the hell away from the eight legged harbingers of doom. He hated them. With a passion. Grabbing the bat-o-nails, he began swinging at anything that came close enough to be hit. And cursing. Damned spiders. He was definitely going to need therapy getting out of this. /If/ they got out. While swinging at the spiders, he patted his pockets for the lighter.-

LIGHTER! -He didn't mean to shout it, but he yanked it from his pocket and turned to try to set something on fire nearby to drive the arachnids away-

Micah Watson *he swung his sword at the spiders like a wild man, cutting off legs, chopping bodies in half until bug guts scattered the floor. He looked up when John pulled out the lighter and nodded* GOOD! *he ripped off his outer shirt, wrapping it around a piece of bone and rubbed it along the wall that was soaked with oils. After he'd done so he grabbed the lighter from john and lit the torch shoving the torch into his hand* take this! keep them away. I'm going to start cutting our way through *he barked, grabbing the sword and swinging with all his might*

John Grimm Keep them away, he says... -John grumbled, and complied. He snarled insults at the spiders that dared to get closer, swinging the flaming torch. Amazingly, the light did little to lighten his mood. It made clearer the utterly detestable surroundings. The walls that seemed to ooze blood and oil and things he didn't even want to think about. And the spiders. They were large and black and hairy and .. he /really/ didn't want to keep on with that line of thought. Evil things. He growled softly-

Please tell me you're making progress. Because there's more coming our way. I think we're royally screwed.

Micah Watson *he growled right back, slashing their way through the throng* I'm working on it! *he barked, looking back at John. He kicked a smaller spider before stepping on its head crushing it and hacking another two to pieces. When they finally reached the door, he yanked it open and shoved john through before slamming the door shut behind them*

Well that was fun. Shall we try this maze again? *He panted, looking back at john with wide eyes. he was covered in spider goo and fur and he looked visibly shaken, but his concern for the other man was strong* hey... come on let's go we need to get you out of here...

John Grimm Get /me/ out of here? Dude, you've been decapitated. And eviscerated. And I don't even want to be here now. Let's go. -He turned and started walking, torch in one hand, bat of doom in the other- At this point, I'll sit and watch Twilight. I just wanna go home.

-He sighed and fell silent, dropping into tracker mode again. They'd gone left the last time. He paused and listened. To the right was more screaming and straight was silence. Left had been silence before too. He turned and looked back at Micah- Screaming or no screaming?

Micah Watson *he pondered, thinking it over for a bit* ... well.. depending on how long we've been here... these things only have one thought in their mind. Torture. I don't think they'd think beyond that. So... depending on where the entrance is they might have started filling in prisoners from the first cell on... follow the screams. *he reasoned, taking a shaky breath*

God he hoped he was right this time* I will gladly watch twilight with you and dress up like Cullen if we get out of here....

John Grimm -He nodded and snorted- I won't dress up. You can't make me. -Turning, he started down the hallway, following the screams. He sincerely hoped Micah was right. That the screams would lead the way. He considered dousing the torch, but considering the things that seemed to come out of the woodwork, he wasn't sure he wanted to be caught by surprise.

He turned and handed off the torch- Here.. you hold this. I'll take the lead. -He turned back again, blinking against the brightness so that he could see again and started forward, ignoring the screams from the various cells. He would burn this place to the ground if ever he got out-

Micah Watson *he took the torch and brandishing it with the sword, he followed John, the two heading to the entrance of the hallway. Shockingly enough, when they arrived, it was to a stairway that lead up into a lit corridor* Hurry hurry! *he barked, shoving john up the steps as they made their way. He kept his eyes back looking for anything that would follow them.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Micah looked back and his eyes widened. Where there had been nothing literally a second before, now, standing halfway up the stairs. was another of the beasts. Like a cross between a gargoyle a wolf and a yeti, it stared at them with a bleeding salivating maw and he gasped* GOOOOO!!!! *he screamed shoving him away from the stairs and bolting with him*

John Grimm -He didn't need to be told twice. Not a glutton for punishment, or needing to prove himself, John turned and pulled Micah up the stairs and away from the beast. It howled at them, lumbering along on trunk-like legs.- Must go. Go now. NownowNOW! -He found he was babbling, but he didn't care. Between the dismemberment, the spiders and the general fuckery, John was ready to get the hell out.

He shoved Micah ahead of him once they cleared the stairs and he knew they were clear of anything else. He would save his friend first at all costs. Unfortunately, whatever it was that was chasing them was counting on that and aimed a wickedly sharp blade at John. Moving to make sure it didn't hit Micah, he caught it in the shoulder. One blade, while annoying, wasn't a big deal.

But as he yanked it from his shoulder, he was shocked to find that the wound didn't immediately close. Instinct made him hang onto the blade, but he wouldn't allow himself to think about the wound or the blade until they were safe.-

Micah Watson *They were running for their very lives now. Outside of the safety (hah!) of the cell they were susceptible to permanent damage and he was not about to get chopped up again. Micah heard the grunt of pain from John and he whipped around throwing the torch at the monster with a titanic roar. He watched as the monster took the flaming stick to the face and almost instantly burst into flames.

Not pausing to think about that fact, he grabbed the wounded john and dragged him out of the massive building. Whatever they were in looked like an old prison of sorts but without proper guards. they easily slipped through the fences.* Come on... keep running those things are slow *he panted dragging him away.

they made it halfway through the wastelands before they both collapsed in an exhausted heap, leaning against each other* fuck... what do we do now... *he panted holding john close to him... tight. not wanting to let go

John Grimm -The running got harder and harder for John. He couldn't understand why it was he was winded. Or sore. Or the fact that he was /still/ bleeding. That wasn't right. He should have healed. He kept the injury to himself for the time being. Survival was more important.-

I wish I knew. How the hell did we get into the Wastelands? I heard that guy talking about it at the stables. This must be what happened to the States... -He bit his lip and swallowed a soft groan as a wave of nausea threatened to overtake him. How long had it been since he'd been sick? He swallowed past it and looked around, feeling the shaking start in his knees. It felt almost like the flu. Shaky, sick, cold. The Wasteland was desert. Hot and dry. He shouldn't be cold.

He looked at Micah and raised a brow- How did we get here?

Micah Watson *He was wounded. Badly. It would seem that his wounds from the decapitation and evisceration were still there, and the magic of the prison had only mended him enough for the monster to keep playing. Bleeding, infected and pained, he could barely move now. But he looked down at him seeing his cold white pallor and he frowned* mate you're burning up *he groaned, holding him close and rocking him back and forth. he saw the wound bleeding through john's shirt and he gasped* you're still hurt... *he said quietly looking down at him* it's this place. we've got to get you out of here *he murmured, looking around...

But where would they go? Oh god what if John died while they were out here* we're so lost *he gasped, looking down at him. His pallor was slowly turning green and he blinked* don't hold it.. *he said quietly, rubbing his back. Off in the distance he could hear something approaching... but it didn't sound like the beasts... No it sounded like... propellers*

I think.. I think something's coming *he said looking up into the distance. Sure enough, his keen eyes caught sight of an airship in the distance* There's a ship!

John Grimm -He blinked, trying to focus. A weird, gray fuzziness had enveloped his vision and he found that it was almost a strobe-effect as he moved. Weird. It took several tries parsing out what Micah was saying before he realized he'd actually spoken aloud- I'm alright. We just... -he swallowed and made a face- we need to get outta here.

-He leaned against Micah and shook his head slowly. Big mistake. The sudden movement caused a sudden shift in the world at his feet and he nearly fell on his ass- What the hell...? -He swallowed again, trying to get past the scratchiness in his throat- The blade... something was on it.

-He followed Micah's gaze and looked up- Is that....? -He stopped mid-sentence, eyes rolling back in his head. And dropped like a lead weight onto the ground at their feet-

Micah Watson *he hadn't noticed the shift in John until it was too late. when the man hit the ground he spun around, dropping next to him* John! JOHN!! *he yelled, shaking him gently. Oh god this was bad. He looked around wildly, seeing the ship coming closer and he wrapped his arms around the unconscious man.

he hurt badly. his prosthesis was broken on the back of his neck leaving a portion of his spine exposed and he was bleeding profusely. His entire neck was on fire from the broken prosthesis and exposed bone an his stomach was barely holding in his guts. But he couldn't take his eyes off the unconscious man in his arms* John stay with me! *he begged, looking up seeing the ship. he began to scream at the top of his lungs, waving his free arm. Blood stained the man in his grip and he cried out louder, hoping that whoever was on the ship would see him.

Never had he been so relieved to recognized William 's ship in all of his life. he screamed for the crew members hoping and praying that someone would see him before they passed by and left them both to die in the desert*

William Turner *That William and crew were dispatched to the Wasteland was fortuitous. The shipment of 'cargo' had been scheduled to leave port the week following. But a last minute alteration had had the crew leaving overnight to drop their package within the heart of the desert land.

They were on their way back toward Britannia and away from the accursed land when they happened upon the entrance to one of the various Hives. And outside? Two very injured men. They would very easily have passed over the pair without sparing a backward glance, but for Jenkins.

Legless from birth, Jenkins sat atop the Crow's Nest with his scope, looking from place to place to ensure their safety. When he spied the men on the ground, he recognized the young vampire from the pub a few weeks prior. He called down to Captain Turner* Ahoy! Captain! Men overboard!

*Confused as to why they would save men in the Wasteland, William took to his own scope and nearly choked. Micah! And... it seemed that he was with his compatriot, the Outlander. He turned and called for an immediate rescue of the pair. These men were no criminals. How they turned up in the Wasteland, he had no idea. But if they'd been sent away on a lark, heads would roll* Bring them aboard! NOW!

Micah Watson *he continued to waves his arm, holding onto the unconscious man tightly. When it seemed the ship would not stop, he felt his own heart break and he crumbled to the ground, holding John close to him. He whimpered, clinging to the man for dear life. He'd come to love john like a brother he couldn't lose him to THIS!

however, his prayers were answered when he heard the ship slow its propellers and come to a halt just beyond them. He looked up, seeing several men throw a few lines over the side of the ship and make their way down to the land. Too weak to stand, he allowed the men to come forward and take John from him before another man threw his own arm around his shoulders and dragged Micah to his feet. he yelped LOUDLY, the exposed and broken pieces of metal clanging and scraping his exposed vertebrae from the quick handling, and he went limp, barley holding on from the pain. he felt himself dragged to the lines, secured and slowly hoisted aboard. When he was laid out on the deck next to john, he looked up in foggy vision, seeing William above him* ...

William Turner *He stepped forward as the men were laid out upon the deck. He regarded them quietly, calling for the chirurgeon to attend to the two men. He knelt next to Micah's prone form and hesitated to lay hands upon him* What has happened? Why are you both here in the Wasteland? You are no criminals. And certainly if you were, you are not so heinous a criminal to deserve such punishment.

*He glanced over at the pale, still form of the Outlander. He had heard that the man healed at an alarming rate. Almost magical, it seemed. Yet here he lay, pale and obviously stricken with fever. He knew not why* Why is he not healing? Micah, tell me what you require, I will tend to your wounds. Both of you.

Micah Watson *he groaned, still half holding onto consciousness* use your surgeons... on him. He's deathly ill.. *he groaned, curling up, when he tried to sit up, the pain was too much and he fell over to his side. with his motions, the slit encompassing his throat opened, and the exposed vertebrae of his spine clicked loudly, making crewmembers shudder. He whimpered, curling up* John first... then me. Please don't let him die. He is my brother please. *he begged, looking up at William with begging, pleading eyes*

William Turner *Not liking the way Micah's wounds appeared, but understanding the need to care for a brother in arms, William nodded. It was reluctant, but he had had tutelage in the finer arts of medicine while aboard his vessel. His chirurgeon was of the best and had taught him quite a bit. He turned, voice dropping to request the necessary implements before turning back to William.* I will care for you while my chirurgeon cares for your brother. You will both receive the best care in all of the fleet. I have been trained by the best.

*He stood and waited for his men to arrive with the two make-shift carriers. On one they loaded the limp form of the Outlander to be carried below decks and tended to. On the other, they assisted the vampire* Carry him to my quarters. He will reside there until he is stable enough to move about on his own.

Once the pair had been situated, he turned to his First Mate* You have the wheel, Mr. Turner. I will be in my quarters tending to my patient should you have need of me.

*Mr. Turner saluted sharply* Aye, sir. *And with that, William disappeared into his quarters with Micah*

Micah Watson *he found himself being lifted onto the gurney and he whimpered, going limp. he felt himself drifting in and out of consciousness before he found himself in William's personal quarters. Confused, he looked up at the captain, his eyes glazed over. Vaguely he heard William ask him a question, but upon asking him to repeat it he groaned, closing his eye*

Those things... Remy was right *he groaned, feeling his torn shirt being pulled from his body to expose the weeping, ugly wounds on his stomach* they are worse than all the demons of hell... they decapitated me... and then put my head back on... just so they could try to do it again. *he whimpered, his eyes welling up and spilling down his bloody and dirty face* they dismembered john... but he healed completely. i don't understand why he is so sick... please... please tell me he will be okay. *he begged, more concerned for the human than his own life hanging in the balance now*

William Turner *He tsked softly and continued to clean the wounds, pulling up a needle with anesthetic. He wasn't certain how the vampire would metabolize the medication, but he needed to suture the wound on his stomach* Micah, I have anesthetic. I need to administer it, but I am not certain how you will handle it. Please, I do not wish to make you worse. I need to know.

*He couldn't wait, but he didn't want to hurt the man laying at his mercy. He shushed Micah and tried to alleviate his concerns* The Outlander will be fine, Micah. We need to tend to your wounds so you can heal and be of service to your friend and brother. Please, help me to assist you. I want nothing more than your health.

Micah Watson *he winced, looking up at the captain* Anesthetic.. You had better have two vials. it takes much more to put me under than others... it does not harm me though *he said quietly, closing his eyes> his whole world was spinning now, and he felt sick, tired. Tears continued to slip from the corners of his eyes, and he whimpered, choking back a cry.*

I don't know how.. I don't know how we came to this land. We both.. woke up here. I woke up in a cell, chained to the wall by silver. So whoever did this.. they know... they know us. *he murmured his fist tightening around the edge of the bed he lay on. He shook, fighting back a convulsion, as he opened his eyes again* leave here as quickly as you can... don't come back. I cant see this happening to you

William Turner *He lay the needle against Micah's bruised flesh and pressed the point into the tender skin. Injecting the solution, he pulled it back and set it on a nearby table* I wish not to put you under, as my chirurgeon would say. I need you conscious so I know how you fare while I tend to you. This should be enough to render you senseless so that I do not cause you undue stress.

*He pulled the small wheeled table closer to himself and began the daunting task of suturing the stomach wound. It was dirty and would likely be full of infection if he did not clean first. So he poured the clear spring water found high in the Misty Mountains over the wound. The water had been known for its cleansing and healing properties. So he sat back and watched as it bubbled and frothed before settling back down. He could finish cleaning the wound and suture it without worry of infection. One less place to worry about.

As he sewed the wound shut, he began speaking softly. Not certain how much would carry over to the mind of the vampire, he spoke of his childhood as a blacksmith. How he had become a pirate and later the First Mate of the Dutchman. Upon the death of the fearsome Captain Jones, he had assumed command and continued the work of the Dutchman. He spoke of the arranged and loveless marriage to the Lady Elizabeth. And he spoke of his desire to one day find a love of his own. All in hopes to distract the man laying helpless on his bed.*

Micah Watson *All the while that Micah was under the influence of the anesthetic, he listened, foggily to William speak. he could only catch bits of what the captain had to say, but it soothed him nonetheless. the calming voice, the tender touches. He, in his fuzzy, drugged state, fell in love with the captain all over again, and he looked up at him, meeting his gaze. Granted, Micah looked intoxicated, glassy-eyed and spaced, but he kept a solid hold on his gaze, letting him work.

When the wound on his stomach was sutured, he felt the captain move to his neck, his slit throat, chipped neck bones, broken prosthesis, and he hissed quietly, squeezing his eyes shut* i think.. the bone... issbroken.. *he slurred, slowly trying to move. it felt like moving through water, and he felt a mild panic raise in his chest. Normally, none of this would bother him. But his upset, his pain was too high. when he found he couldn't move too well, he slumped back against the bed, looking up at the captain*

t-tell... tell me... more... when you grew. what you liked... *he smiled just a bit, closing his eyes* when you grew so beautiful... *okay sure he didn't intend for that to come out, but there it was. He laughed quietly, keeping his eyes closed*

William Turner *He settled next to the vampire and attempted to reset the bones and mend the muscle and tissue around the vertebrae before ever he attempted to mend the skin. He had had some expertise with bio-plants and their designs, and was able to fabricate a makeshift cover over the open areas. He knew that Micah would need to see a real chirurgeon before he could function again as a worker, but this would tide him over until they arrived in Britannia.

He found himself chuckling softly at Micah's request and began telling the tale of a Captain who ferried souls who had passed onto the barrier that separated the living from the dead. That was his secret. He spoke to no one outside of the King and his crew about his duties. But he spoke about how he had ferried children and adults alike, and how with everyone, he had taken the time to learn their languages and their habits.*

I am pleased you find me so fetching, Micah. You see, I have come to look upon you much the same. I look forward to docking so that I can make my way to the pub, knowing that I would be able to look upon your lovely visage. *And he was very thankful that none of this conversation would be remembered. It was the closest to an admission as ever he had come*

Micah Watson *his eyes fluttered open and he looked up at William, his face actually lit with happiness* you.. you do? *he said, looking ridiculously happy. He stared at the captain, beaming at him before he lifted a hand to touch him. he missed miserably and laughed, dropping his hand onto his chest with a thump* I knew i should have slipped more gifts to you.. but i ran out of gold coins after i slipped the music box into your room *he murmured, not caring how odd it would sound.

he looked down at his hand, staring at his fingers like he'd never seen them before* I am a thief as well... and a reverse thief *he giggled, closing his eyes again* I wanted to stay to see if you liked it.. but I was afraid i would be prisoned for trespassing. this is a beautiful ship.. like you... and your stories...

*rambling now, Micah waved his hand gently before feeling the captain move to suture the slit around his neck* I do hope i do not insult you...

William Turner *The admission concerning the music box brought a rare smile to the Captain's lips. He looked down upon the vampire and traced a finger along his high cheekbone* It was you? I found the box and have listened to its music each and every night as I retire. The music soothes me in a way nothing else has. *He ducked his head* You have my thanks, Micah. It was a very thoughtful gift, even stolen from someone else.

*He gently patted Micah's hand and cleaned the lesser wounds, making certain the vampire would be well enough to heal on his own as well as travel. When he was sure the bandages would remain clean, he settled back. The vampire would remain in his quarters for the duration of the trip* You honor me by being so candid. I find it refreshing and pleasing to my ears. I only hope I am not too forward in my earlier admission. I do enjoy your company. You and your brother seem to be kindred spirits and I enjoy the companionship. I do hope you do not mind.

*Meanwhile, below-decks, the chirurgeon tended to the Outlander. The men were at a loss for how one so hale could become so deathly ill. His fever spiked dreadfully high, and the chills wracked his bulky frame. Concerned, the chirurgeon sent word to William that they feared the Outlander would not survive the trip to Britannia.*

Micah Watson *he smiled at the captain, his hand slowly reaching out to take his. Micah smiled, wrapping his fingers around William's holding his hand firmly and pulling it close to his own body* For two years i pined for you, since the first day I saw you. Your admission does nothing but please me.. *he smiled at him, his tiredness flooding his face. Now that his adrenaline was low, he was crashing fast.

But when one of the crewmembers came to the quarters and spoke to the captain. His sharp hearing picked up the words and his face fell instantly. He moved to sit up, hissing loudly as he tried... he had to get to john* no... no he cant die.. *he exclaimed looking up at them through his drugged fog* I have to go to him. i have to go now!

*he had little idea of what he was doing to the freshly set bones, and the sutured wounds, but he didn't care. His mind wasn't even on the concerned captain trying to placate him. He only thought of john and what would happen if he died*

William Turner *William shushed the vampire again, pushing him back down. Together, he and his crewmate tried to contain the vampire.* You cannot move, Micah. If you try to move, you will ruin all that I have wrought. Please. We have the best chirurgeon in all of Britannia tending to him. He will be fine. I will see to it myself. Please.

*While his crewmate held Micah down, William injected the vampire with another dose of anesthetic to calm him. He breathed a soft sigh of relief as the vampire calmed. He turned, glaring at his man and hissed* Fool. He is Nosferatu. He is vampire. He /hears/ when we do not. Tell me /not/ the Outlander's condition while he can hear you.

*He stood slowly and covered the vampire, but only after making certain that the wounds had not reopened. Once he was certain the vampire would rest and heal, he followed his man down below decks to see to the Outlander. He had faith that they would find a way to help this one too.*

John Grimm -He was cold and shivering, despite the blankets and the heat below decks. He was thirsty, so very thirsty. They gave him water, which he unfortunately kept throwing back up. He couldn't keep anything down. It was the oddest thing. He couldn't get his mind to wrap around the idea that he was sick.

In his delirious state, he tried to escape the guy with the needle. He hadn't had anyone sew him up since the incident in Moldova. Sarge had had to hold him down and gag him while Goat patched his leg. It had been bad, but bearable. This was just /odd/.

And what made matters worse was the fact that only one of the crew had to hold him down. He was newborn kitten-weak. No strength. And he couldn't find Sam. Where was Sam? He shouted for her, trying to find her. They'd taken her. Sarge had her. He had to find her.- SAM!!!

Micah Watson *the crew looked over the sick man, gazing at the chirurgeon with helplessness in their eyes. This man was deathly ill, close to the edge already. And they still had quite a ways until they were to arrive back at Britannia. One crewmember pulled his hand off respectfully as the chirurgeon worked deeply into the night to at least sustain the man for the long travel back to Britannia. If he were successful..*

~*~

*he was in a haze dark and dreary. he didn't know how long he was unconscious, but it seemed that his body had just shut down without his say. Micah didn't know where he was or what was going on. he had no idea what was happening below deck. he had no idea that William cared for him at all hours, cleaned his wounds,c leaned his body from grime, sweat from his own mild fever and even gave him fresh clothing.

He was only vaguely aware of the sound of gulls as he opened his eyes again. The sun was shining. it was quiet. And he was in so much pain he thought he would die on the spot* oh gods... *he gasped, curling up in a tight ball. His stomach, his neck, his spine. his whole body was on fire* gods just put me out of my misery *he groaned, gritting his teeth*

William Turner *William did indeed sit with Micah the majority of the time. As the chirurgeon was busy tending to the Outlander, someone was needed to sit with the vampire and keep the wounds clean and administer pain medications as needed. He furrowed a brow when Micah awoke and helped the vampire with more anesthetic to soothe him. He shushed the taller man, content to see that he was faring better than his brother below.

In his desire to see the vampire rest and relax, he began singing softly. It was something William did not share with anyone. No one, not even his First Mate knew of his singing. He had held back from sharing his gift except in the company of the infant he had come to call son. And as the child grew older, he ceased singing.

He threaded a hand through Micah's hair and sang softly to soothe the vampire.*

John Grimm -John finally slipped into a state of unconsciousness. The fever finally broke and he drifted in a gray world of painlessness. The drugs that had been given were coursing through his system instead of being burned off. And the delirium that had scared the crew seemed to pass. He fell silent, eyes moving quickly behind his lids. But he was no longer burning to the touch.

The chirurgeon was not heartened, however. He had noted the discoloration around the blade wound, and knew that the Outlander had been poisoned. Perhaps by the very same poison that had granted his superhuman strength? Unfortunately, no one but the Outlander would know that information. And he wasn't speaking at the moment.

As the Airship floated along, he drifted in a sea of confusion and emptiness.-

Micah Watson *his body was wracked with pain until the soothing, calming medication flowed through his body. he relaxed within minutes of the administration of the anesthetic and he exhaled loudly, going completely limp on the bed. As he felt William petting his hair, he slowly, agonizingly, nuzzled his head up into his hand allowing the captain to card his fingers through his hair further. A light purr of content bubbled up his throat and he smiled weakly, listening to the singing.

it was beautiful. He'd never heard a voice like that in all his years. He smiled, listening to William before his eyes opened a bit to welcome his sight. Micah stared at the captain for the longest moment before opening his mouth* Hello... I do hope you have slept this night *he murmured, unaware of the days he'd been unconscious. To him, it was simply the morning after their nightmare*

He turned his head to look out the window, seeing the reflection of blue. they were over the ocean now* have you stayed with me all night? *he asked, concern on his face. He didn't want to prove to be an opposition to him...*

William Turner *William smiled. The singing had stopped two days prior. He understood the confusion concerning the passage of time. Sitting up, he poured Micah a cup of tea and set it aside to help the vampire sit up* I have rested while you were sleeping, Micah, fear not.

*He had gravitated between the vampire and the Outlander, wanting to make certain that both would survive the trek back to Britannia. When it became apparent that both men would be hale enough to travel, he had relaxed considerably.*

Your friend is resting below decks. He has taken quite ill, but I do believe you both will see the arrival to Britannia successfully. His fever has broken and he is sleeping deeply for now. You should continue resting as well, though your wounds are nearly healed. I am thankful that my chirurgeon was able to tend to you both.

Micah Watson *Micah relaxed visibly when he heard that his friend was somewhat stable. he exhaled loudly and slumped back against the headrest of the bed, his eyes closed* I'm grateful to hear that. I owe you... such a debt, Captain. I really do. We would not have survived had you not come upon us... *he opened his eyes and looked directly at the captain. The doses of pain medication were much smaller now, leaving him somewhat coherent. He took the tea offered to him and he sipped it quietly, letting the warm liquid soothe his dry throat.

After a moment, he set the tea cup down on the side table, glancing down at his stomach. he lifted the thing shirt looking over the bandages. Clean and white, and not a trace of grime or blood marred his skin. He smiled* You have exceptional skill. I find myself in awe of your many talents, Captain Turner. Perhaps it is part of why I feel somewhat drawn to you. *he chuckled and rubbed a hand over his jaw, staring up at the ceiling of the bedroom. What was he to do now? he'd bared his soul to the captain, and without any memory of what had happened the night before... had it been the night before?*

Exactly how long had I been unconscious? *he asked, looking sideways at the captain, mild concern on his face*

William Turner Three days and nights you have slept and remained unconscious *He smiled and watched the vampire quietly. It had been a harrowing three days, mostly for the Outlander. But he would not worry Micah with his concerns over his friend.

Once Micah finished his tea, William poured a second* Please, you need to rehydrate yourself. You have had little to drink in the last few days. Would you... *He paused, looking both hesitant and curious* Would you have need of a neck to tap? I can find one... or if you prefer, I can offer myself so that you might restrengthen yourself.

Micah Watson *he looked stunned at the idea of being unconscious for three days. it was shocking, frightening, and somewhat morbidly fascinating* three days... *he mumbled, having a second cup of tea pushed into his hand. he sipped it quietly, listening to William speak. Oh nothing would please him more than to taste the Captain's blood, but his shyness got the best of him and he ducked his head, covering his eyes*

If we are but a day out from Britannia, I could hold off on the blood.. *he said hopefully. but from the look on William's face it was far longer than just a day* ... I would trust no one else but you... however, I cannot take the risk either. Being so starved I would drain you dry... And I can't... do that to you.. *he said weakly*

William Turner *He bowed his head and demurred* We are just over a day from Britannia now. If you are able to handle the wait, I am certain we can locate a suitable donor. But I am unable and unwilling to spare my crew or force them to do something I myself would not do. If you seek a donor while we are still air-bound, I would offer myself.

*He settled back and unbuttoned a cuff on his sleeve, offering his wrist* I trust in you, Micah. But if you feel you would be too weak, would you prefer I open a vein and drain some into a goblet?

Micah Watson *he looked down at the wrist being offered to him and he frowned. Instantly his stomach screamed for the sustenance, grumbling loudly in the still air around them. he blushed and chuckled a bit, closing his eyes* it would seem that my body has other plans then.. *he said quietly looking up into the captain's eyes. Slowly, he reached a hand out, taking William's wrist in his hand and pulling it closer. He ran his fingertips over the soft, smooth skin of the under wrist, watching the veins pulse like a beacon just under the pale flesh.

he licked his lips quietly, closing his eyes for a moment. when they opened again, they were solid, and his fangs protruded. not long and gnarled like the lore of vampire hating individuals, ugly and yellowed with blood stains. But soft pointed, long and pearly white, slightly curved. He brought the wrist up to his mouth, brushing his lips along the pulse point before glancing up at the captain with those dark, doll like eyes* stop me in one minute's time. it wont be enough to fill me. But enough to sate me until we return to the port...

*he sighed, opening his mouth further and like a kitten nibbling on string, gently sank his fangs into the soft flesh. It barely pricked more than a needle, those fangs as he clamped down, letting the blood fill his mouth as he drank slowly, happily. his blood tasted like nothing he'd ever had, sweeter than human, almost as delectable as stag's blood, and he sighed loudly, barely a moan in his throat as he drank*

William Turner *The hesitation gave William pause, but he didn't retract his offer. As Micah pulled his wrist closer, he scooted forward so that he could watch the proceedings.

It didn't hurt. At all. In fact... William found himself blushing and ducking his own head as he felt the tendrils of pleasure coursing through him. They began where Micah had latched onto his arm and sang through his bloodstream. He bit back his own soft response and tried to remember how to count so that he could have the vampire pull off before it was too late.

He swallowed and gently prodded Micah* I believe it has been a moment's time. You should... *He drew in a shaky breath and swallowed again* You should retract your fangs, sir.

*He tugged lightly at his arm and hoped that the slight tremor wasn't evident*