Chapter 47 ~ Procedure

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I should be arguing with myself about how this is a stupid idea. I should be thinking about how this is probably the most stupid, idiotic thing I could think of. Damn near psychotic.

But my thoughts are silent. All I can focus on is finally reaching the jackal I abandoned in a dusty closet, bleeding, in pain, all alone. Before I knew it, I took off, sprinting to the medical bay halfway through my tense walk to the supply closet. Amy and Rouge called after me, confused as to where they were supposed to be led to.

I slam through the door, ignoring the world of white sheets and white walls around me, scanning the shelves for any painkiller, morphine, even plasma or an IV drip. None of those were kept out just in the open like that unfortunately. The most there was enough to ease mild muscle pain, headaches, and some gauze for bleeds. On a nightstand by an unoccupied cot was a small morphine needle. The spark of panic and hope arose once again. Snatching it like a shoplifter and booking it out of the bay back down the hall.

Rouge and Amy were there, standing, puzzled, then worry and panic as I rushed past them. Obviously, they sensed my urgency – seeing as I am running around Resistance HQ like a lunatic – something was going on.

My sprint slowed to a jog, then to a hurried walk as I approached supply closet F. The metal door stood before me, seeming so intimidating. A shield, a box, a tomb. That's what it was. From discovering whatever hard truth is inside and keeping that very truth from getting out.

My hand is shaking, and it hasn't even turned the handle yet.

Why am I hesitating?

Multiple clacking shoes echo down the floors of the hall, echoing off the metal and cracked brick.

That was signal that I had to act now.

Swallowing my fear, shoving the worry down, sighing heavily and sucking in air again, I turn the handle.

My eyes widen and a thousand-pound weight drops in my stomach, my heart pounds against my ribcage as the door creaks open, far overdue for some oil.

My chest felt tight, like a bag of rocks was crushing my body, it has hard to breathe. It was like I was choking on air, as if it was filled with smoke. My eyes locked on, laser focus.

Infinite was face down on the floor, head under one arm, another outstretched as if to reach his mask which was a few feet in front of him. There were small splatters of blood on the ground, in strange patterns. Like little blooming flowers of gore.

Little delicate patterns of such an awful substance.

My bones felt like they were frozen in place. I felt like what... happened in the bathroom was going to happen again.

Infinite was seizing, trembling, body shaking uncontrollably.

No. Not again! Not now!

I dash towards the unconscious jackal, eyes darting between the mask and the quivering body. I snatch the mask and clutch onto Infinite, shutting my eyes for a few seconds as I try to put the mask back on. Despite my curiosity, I felt this need to heed Infinite's wishes to hide his face. And I don't know why.

There are gasps.

"Oh my God!" I heard Amy exclaim.

They were here. Time to come clean.

I quickly jab the morphine needle into Infinite's arm, pushing the liquid into his bloodstream. Behind the cracked glass of the mask's lenses, his eye was shut. Yet the quaking and shaking continued.

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⏰ Last updated: Oct 31, 2021 ⏰

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