Misericorde

It was dark when we arrived at that hospital. I got out of the car, and started to reach back in for my stupid sword.

Seriously, why don't I just get a firearm or something?....okay, because I'm really rather likely to injure myself with one, more than do anything worthwhile for it.  Man, this entire life of mine has gotten real stupid, hasn't it?  Running around with a mask, a black hoodie with day-glo operator symbols, and a replica sword that got reforged by Amalgamation Sage, and is apparently 'magic'.

Magic.

Fuck me.

Anyway, as I cursed my life (and then promptly stopped, thinking about what my alternative was), I realized that I had to leave my gear behind.

Paperclip and I made our way inside. I had asked him about visiting hours. Paperclip raised a hand, leading me deeper into the hospital, "Private room, they only kick people out if they're in a semi-private spot."  I mused as we stepped into the elevator, "And he'd have to have a private room because he's got a cop on him."  I grimaced, "I feel really uncomfortable in here as it is, and now I gotta lie to a cop." He waved his hand, "Friend of the family. The guys I've seen, barely care as it is."

The doors opened, and he lead on, a bit of an impatience in his wide-stance steps. I just sort of plodded along behind him. What was I supposed to do? Snap my fingers and find an answer? Even if I did see him as being 'tainted' or whatever, that just tells me that there's truth to the claim. It doesn't give me an answer.

Paperclip was putting a lot of trust and hope into me, and I hated the fact that this was going to end poorly for him. Three rooms in, past the smell of antiseptic, and quietly hushed staff, we walked past a slouching officer of the law with barely a word, and into Matchbook's room.

An older man, mid-sixties, I'd guess. Hair had fully receded back, and what was left was growing long, stringy white. He was intubated, with a full breathing mask on. Physically, the man was pretty similar to his son. Stocky, short, and with a ruddy face, which looked pale in the hospital light. Meanwhile, Paperclip stares at me like this is it, like this is how things get fixed. I sigh and shut the door.

I look him over again, and check his arms and feet for signs of self-harm. Nobody likes to talk about it, but those of us in this sort of game, we end up...well, I won't say anything further on the subject actually. I can't comment on the struggles of another life.

I looked him over enough to vouch that the man was indeed stripped, as distasteful as that was to say. Paperclip just silently watched, his hands together in unease and expectation. I didn't see anything, but did I /see/ anything? I never knew what really triggered that old sight. I just knew.

But that taint never fully goes away. Not if my dreams have anything to say about it. In my life, I've been double marked. Once by the Hollow Man, once by the Bleeding Tree. They both have a hold on me in the long run. I thought about that fevor I had back in the day (last blog), that sense of justice, and fury that came with it. It was who I was, who I had been reforged to be, a catspaw for the Tree.

It lead me nowhere. I sighed and sat down on one of those deep chairs they have in  private rooms. Wordlessly, I gave Paperclip a weak shrug. I didn't want to outright say it, that either I had no idea how to verify it all, or if maybe Matchbook was responsible for his own crimes.

I sat there, and shut my eyes, my head in my hands.

THAT is when I saw him.

I saw his body's faint outline, despite my eyes being closed, not too dissimilar to seeing light through closed eyes. It was as if he was viewed in thermal vision, no depth, just a glowing spot in a background of darkness.  I rubbed my eyes and stood up, testing it out again. It was a strange color, a purplish color. Far different from that red and orange I used to see for the Tree's victims.

Paperclip couldn't take it, and broke the silence. "What do you see?" I walked right up beside Matchbook and peered down at him. It was as if one spot of him was glowing more than the rest.

and THAT was when the outline moved.

I opened my eyes, to see Matchbook staring up at me, his eyes open wide like he had seen a ghoul. Instantly his hands came up to grab at me. The restraints on his hands kept him bound to the bed, and yet the whole bed shook under his force.

I gave the best advice I could have ever given in my sagely career.

"Run!" 

I took to the door immediately, as the bed clattered.  Paperclip was about five seconds behind me, just clearing the door apprehensively, when the bed must've tipped over. He said something, I just started to run.

He was up, and his eyes were straining solely towards my unlucky ass..

I found the fire exit, and just started to clear as many steps as I could.  Halfway down the first turn downstairs, the door above me explodes in force, and Matchbook, covered in hoses and still in his paper gown, puts himself into the dry wall in my wake.

He starts peeling himself out of the dust and crumbling wall, I took that as a good cue to resume my fleeing, and flee I did. I hit the ground floor, I hear panicked announcements over the PA, and lights flash.  Someone in uniform tries to interpose between myself and the exit. I take him to task, and bowl him over. Matchbook's back on my heels, I see him in the reflection of the exit doors, he's moving on all fours, tiles being torn up as he cuts a swath through the hospital.

I put my foot into what I hope is an alarm, and clear the two chambers of exit doors, heading for the car. I can't leave Matchbook like this so I can't just flee, but I also refuse to let him tear me to pieces barehanded. I kept thinking that maybe I could find another way out of this.

By the time I get my sword out, I look back. Matchbook was caught in the doors, actually bending them out of his way.

Holy shit.

I flee to the woods nearby, and I mean I am covering some serious ground towards it. There's no real plan in mind, other than my own personal survival. If I fight him, one of us dies, possibly both. The fevor he had for assaulting me, that wasn't going to allow for rational thought. So I had to run.

I hear the snap of branches behind me, and start to throw myself down, and a cannonball explodes into my back. He comes down partially atop me, and with enough momentum that both of us tumble in the high grass and dirt.

I start to regain my senses only to feel steely hands clawing at me. Matchbook's just grabbing at me, but it is with such a ferocity that he's about to dig furrows into my flesh. As he did before, it seems.

I put my hand into his eyes to try to dissuade him, but to no avail. This sixty-something year old balding man stares down at me with the absolute horror and intensity of someone who was born for a single moment.

My sword's partially underneath me, and I need every ounce of leverage I have to keep him as far off of me as I can manage. I roll him over, and catch him on part of a stump. The grip breaks, and I lunge for the blade. He recovers instantly, catching my leg. Pain roars up my calf as he squeezes.

He's not even trying to just kill me smart, he'd have gone for a choke or the head, as if this is his only form of assault. I put my other foot into him as he lets out a hoarse breath. Matchbook doesn't give, and I'm in agony. He starts to move his hands, and my mind goes back to those deep furrows that Paperclip mentioned.

I take the blade to his arm, and deliver a poorly aimed, but wounding strike, backed by sheer adrenaline.  I hack again, and a vein opens up. I curse this damn day and my damn job. He was going to bleed out here, his heart had to be racing a mile a minute.

Matchbook releases my leg and catches me again as I try to get up.  The bastard is strong, and not to sound like a broken record, but I've got one arm to work with. One hand grabs at my head, and the other enters my mouth.  He starts to squeeze again.  There's no soft tissue to work with here, only an agonizing pressure as he tries to break my jaw open, or crush my skull.

I didn't want to do it, but there's no choice now. I was going to die right here. It was literally him or me.  The blade thrust upwards into his chest, and it cut him good, it eased into him without much resistance. Writing this, I nearly threw up thinking about it.

 If it hurts him, it doesn't show, as I stare at this panicked, intent expression on his face, his eyes nearly bulging out.  I draw out the blade, coating my chest in blood.  I aim higher.

He was caught in the neck, and the son of a bitch turned his head INTO it, slitting his throat. Arterial spray trickles out of him, covering me further. I get my foot underneath me and kick him back, unsheathing as I do.

I can hear Paperclip off in the distance, or someone.  Someone's shouting, and I'm finally getting to my feet.

Matchbook slumps. I can't believe I nearly decapitated the poor soul.  He's laying there, like a disgusting Pez dispenser, and I'm in shock.

Gotta flee. I've gotta disappear into the dark, I sure as hell can't go back. I'm fucking done. I turn to leave.

And I heard motion behind me, a gurgling sound, and movement.

My eyes close instinctively as I whisper, "No way."

I turn. 

Matchbook's standing back up, his head lolling over his back, his blue gown gone.  So now I'm dealing with a naked old man who's clumsily getting to his feet.

"No. Fucking. Way."

And my eyes are still closed. I know what it has to be, and I don't want to see it, but i can't not see it.  There's that damn purple aura I see, and its so focused now, there's this intense glow of it right under his right arm.

He comes at me. I aim there with the blade, and say my prayers. 

Again we collide.  This time, I get back up.

Matchbook appears to be down this time.  I whisper a prayer for forgiveness, and clumsily try to say something about him, even while I come to grips with what I have to do.

I've got to find out what that aura is, what is causing that coloring, it had to be the cause of all this.

So yeah, I desecrate him further, and I find something there. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was some sort of cell phone.

Its covered in gore now, thanks to the fight.  Its my clue to the problem at hand, at least.

The only price was another life corrupted by evil.

I flee into the darkness, and run as fast as my legs can take me.

Some things never change.