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ladybug_archiveHere's the blurb I did based on that RP with Lizzie. This will probably never be part of a fic. But random blurbs are fun to tinker with now and then.
The screams and cries coming from one particular room at the Black Organization's infirmary wing were abruptly silenced by the sound of a gunshot. Immediately all those who were not in the area looked up in alarm. What had happened? Had someone been killed? If so, who? One of the doctors? The shooter himself, perhaps? Then, without warning, the yells began anew.
"Someone restrain him!"
"Get the gun away from him!"
"He's going to hurt someone!"
"He's already hurting himself!"
The nurse at the front desk shook her head grimly. She knew that this would not end well. If the doctors could not determine what would counter the drug, then the one affected might do something even more drastic. He had been shooting himself in a desperate attempt to stay focused, or so she had been told. But it was not working. The drug's effects were causing him to descend into complete madness.
In the room in question, Vodka was staring at his partner in shock. Gin was standing in front of him, breathing heavily as he clutched the gun in his left hand as if it was a lifeline. His right arm hung useless at his side, blood emerging from three assorted wounds. He barely noticed it. His eyes, wild with pain and panic, did not stay focused on any one thing for very long. He looked to Vodka, then at the doctors he had pushed back, then around the room.
"Just . . . stay away," he hissed quietly. "Don't come near me!" Shakily he raised the weapon, aiming it first at a doctor who was starting to rise and then turning it to Vodka.
Vodka swallowed hard. "Bro . . . don't do this," he pleaded, unsure of what Gin had in mind. He had been fighting the madness for some time, and Vodka did not know how sane the other was right now.
"You don't know what it's like," Gin answered, his voice dark as he shuddered from the effects of the toxin. "You don't know what it's like to realize that you're going insane, and that nothing you can do will stop it! No matter how hard you try, you fail in the end!" His eyes flashed. "I almost hurt that girl! You saw what happened!"
Vodka tried to step forward, but he was shaking and nervous. He did not really think that Gin would shoot him, but if the blonde suddenly lost control again, there was not any telling what he would be capable of doing. "But . . . you didn't hurt her, bro," he tried to protest. "Just . . . put the gun down before something goes wrong!"
"Something's already wrong!" Gin retorted, his voice rising. To Vodka's alarm, the green-eyed man suddenly brought the weapon to his own throat, his finger on the trigger. "And I'm not going to live in this world in this condition! It would be better to die than to lose my mind!"
The color drained from Vodka's face. The drug was affecting his partner more than he had even realized. And he did not doubt that Gin was capable of pulling the trigger. "You can't do it!" he screamed, not even thinking about what he was doing as he ran forward and grabbed Gin's wrist, pulling the gun away from his neck. Gin cursed him and struggled to get control of the weapon again, and they tumbled to the floor as they wrestled over it. The doctors stared in shock, wondering what to do. It seemed too dangerous to interfere, and yet it was also dangerous to not.
In the end, Vodka managed to get hold of the gun and to throw it across the room, even though Gin currently had the upper hand. The blonde was pinning him to the floor, pressing his knee harshly over the other's chest and making it difficult to breathe. His eyes had lost all recognition, and before Vodka quite realized what was happening, Gin had grabbed up a nearby pillow off the bed and was pressing it over Vodka's face.
The shorter man gasped, struck with panic as he desperately grabbed Gin's wrists and tried to loosen the pressure. But no matter what he did, he could not get Gin to let go of the pillow. He felt himself start to grow dizzy. He did not want to die, especially not like this! He could not breathe. . . . It reminded him of when he had been drowning and the water had washed over him until he had fallen into the darkness. Gin had saved him then, but now Gin was trying to kill him. At that moment, overwhelmed by his feelings of alarm, Vodka's only thought was to get the pillow removed. Getting an adrenaline rush, he held onto Gin's wrists and shoved with all of his might. Being the physically stronger of the two, he succeeded in pushing the other off of his chest. A loud crash followed.
Gasping for breath, Vodka immediately sat up, throwing the pillow aside and gulping in air. He looked around the room shakily, wondering what had happened to Gin and if he would attack again. But then he saw that the blonde was laying sprawled on the floor by the metal locker. He felt stunned and confused, wondering how that had happened, and then he remembered the crash. His eyes widened.
"Bro?" he said hesitantly after he had finally caught his breath. Gin did not reply, and Vodka hurried over to him. He had not meant to hurt him! He had only wanted to get away, to be able to breathe! Swallowing hard, Vodka laid his trembling hands on Gin's shoulders and gently shook him. "Bro, get up!" he pleaded. He could not see Gin's eyes now, but surely he was only dazed. He would move in a minute, furious at being shaken. . . . But he did not. Undaunted, Vodka kept trying.
He was dazed himself when the doctors moved him aside and gathered around Gin's lifeless body, lifting up the limp form and carrying him to the bed. Vodka stayed staring at where Gin had been for a moment and then looked over, watching the physicians examining his partner. Something was wrong. . . . They looked so grim. . . . Vodka wanted to ask them, but he could not find his voice. Then he heard one of them speak.
"He's dead! His heart's stopped!"
Vodka almost fell over. Gin was . . . no, that was not possible. He had just hit the locker. . . . How could that have killed him?
"He struck his head hard," a second medic announced. "He's got a bad bump here."
"Maybe the drug was part of the problem too," said a third. "The shock of being hit so hard could have caused the drug to do something to his system."
They began CPR in an attempt to revive the blonde assassin. Vodka simply continued to watch, his mind a blank. Vaguely he heard someone say that they had a heartbeat, that they had got him back, but it did not quite register. It was Vodka's fault. Vodka had nearly killed his partner. Vodka could not make himself think of it in the context of trying to defend himself. Gin had been out of his mind. Vodka had been sane. He should have controlled his fear better. If Gin ever recovered from the drug, Vodka did not know how he would face the other again.
I knew the name Hiroshi came to me too easily when I was writing Evil Never Dies! I completely forgot that it was Dr. Agasa's first name! **hits head on desk.**
The screams and cries coming from one particular room at the Black Organization's infirmary wing were abruptly silenced by the sound of a gunshot. Immediately all those who were not in the area looked up in alarm. What had happened? Had someone been killed? If so, who? One of the doctors? The shooter himself, perhaps? Then, without warning, the yells began anew.
"Someone restrain him!"
"Get the gun away from him!"
"He's going to hurt someone!"
"He's already hurting himself!"
The nurse at the front desk shook her head grimly. She knew that this would not end well. If the doctors could not determine what would counter the drug, then the one affected might do something even more drastic. He had been shooting himself in a desperate attempt to stay focused, or so she had been told. But it was not working. The drug's effects were causing him to descend into complete madness.
In the room in question, Vodka was staring at his partner in shock. Gin was standing in front of him, breathing heavily as he clutched the gun in his left hand as if it was a lifeline. His right arm hung useless at his side, blood emerging from three assorted wounds. He barely noticed it. His eyes, wild with pain and panic, did not stay focused on any one thing for very long. He looked to Vodka, then at the doctors he had pushed back, then around the room.
"Just . . . stay away," he hissed quietly. "Don't come near me!" Shakily he raised the weapon, aiming it first at a doctor who was starting to rise and then turning it to Vodka.
Vodka swallowed hard. "Bro . . . don't do this," he pleaded, unsure of what Gin had in mind. He had been fighting the madness for some time, and Vodka did not know how sane the other was right now.
"You don't know what it's like," Gin answered, his voice dark as he shuddered from the effects of the toxin. "You don't know what it's like to realize that you're going insane, and that nothing you can do will stop it! No matter how hard you try, you fail in the end!" His eyes flashed. "I almost hurt that girl! You saw what happened!"
Vodka tried to step forward, but he was shaking and nervous. He did not really think that Gin would shoot him, but if the blonde suddenly lost control again, there was not any telling what he would be capable of doing. "But . . . you didn't hurt her, bro," he tried to protest. "Just . . . put the gun down before something goes wrong!"
"Something's already wrong!" Gin retorted, his voice rising. To Vodka's alarm, the green-eyed man suddenly brought the weapon to his own throat, his finger on the trigger. "And I'm not going to live in this world in this condition! It would be better to die than to lose my mind!"
The color drained from Vodka's face. The drug was affecting his partner more than he had even realized. And he did not doubt that Gin was capable of pulling the trigger. "You can't do it!" he screamed, not even thinking about what he was doing as he ran forward and grabbed Gin's wrist, pulling the gun away from his neck. Gin cursed him and struggled to get control of the weapon again, and they tumbled to the floor as they wrestled over it. The doctors stared in shock, wondering what to do. It seemed too dangerous to interfere, and yet it was also dangerous to not.
In the end, Vodka managed to get hold of the gun and to throw it across the room, even though Gin currently had the upper hand. The blonde was pinning him to the floor, pressing his knee harshly over the other's chest and making it difficult to breathe. His eyes had lost all recognition, and before Vodka quite realized what was happening, Gin had grabbed up a nearby pillow off the bed and was pressing it over Vodka's face.
The shorter man gasped, struck with panic as he desperately grabbed Gin's wrists and tried to loosen the pressure. But no matter what he did, he could not get Gin to let go of the pillow. He felt himself start to grow dizzy. He did not want to die, especially not like this! He could not breathe. . . . It reminded him of when he had been drowning and the water had washed over him until he had fallen into the darkness. Gin had saved him then, but now Gin was trying to kill him. At that moment, overwhelmed by his feelings of alarm, Vodka's only thought was to get the pillow removed. Getting an adrenaline rush, he held onto Gin's wrists and shoved with all of his might. Being the physically stronger of the two, he succeeded in pushing the other off of his chest. A loud crash followed.
Gasping for breath, Vodka immediately sat up, throwing the pillow aside and gulping in air. He looked around the room shakily, wondering what had happened to Gin and if he would attack again. But then he saw that the blonde was laying sprawled on the floor by the metal locker. He felt stunned and confused, wondering how that had happened, and then he remembered the crash. His eyes widened.
"Bro?" he said hesitantly after he had finally caught his breath. Gin did not reply, and Vodka hurried over to him. He had not meant to hurt him! He had only wanted to get away, to be able to breathe! Swallowing hard, Vodka laid his trembling hands on Gin's shoulders and gently shook him. "Bro, get up!" he pleaded. He could not see Gin's eyes now, but surely he was only dazed. He would move in a minute, furious at being shaken. . . . But he did not. Undaunted, Vodka kept trying.
He was dazed himself when the doctors moved him aside and gathered around Gin's lifeless body, lifting up the limp form and carrying him to the bed. Vodka stayed staring at where Gin had been for a moment and then looked over, watching the physicians examining his partner. Something was wrong. . . . They looked so grim. . . . Vodka wanted to ask them, but he could not find his voice. Then he heard one of them speak.
"He's dead! His heart's stopped!"
Vodka almost fell over. Gin was . . . no, that was not possible. He had just hit the locker. . . . How could that have killed him?
"He struck his head hard," a second medic announced. "He's got a bad bump here."
"Maybe the drug was part of the problem too," said a third. "The shock of being hit so hard could have caused the drug to do something to his system."
They began CPR in an attempt to revive the blonde assassin. Vodka simply continued to watch, his mind a blank. Vaguely he heard someone say that they had a heartbeat, that they had got him back, but it did not quite register. It was Vodka's fault. Vodka had nearly killed his partner. Vodka could not make himself think of it in the context of trying to defend himself. Gin had been out of his mind. Vodka had been sane. He should have controlled his fear better. If Gin ever recovered from the drug, Vodka did not know how he would face the other again.
I knew the name Hiroshi came to me too easily when I was writing Evil Never Dies! I completely forgot that it was Dr. Agasa's first name! **hits head on desk.**
