Five Ticks 'Til I'm Yours (Dark Ticci Toby x Reader)

23

"So... I'm bait?" you asked for what felt like the fifteenth time.

"Okay, fine, yes, you're bait, happy now?" the other agent, the older one with the thinning moustache and frustrated attitude responded. His name was Patel if you remembered correctly.

"But nothing bad is going to happen to you," the friendlier one, the one that had picked you off the parking lot and brought you back to the motel room spoke next. His name was definitely Clyde.

"I've heard that before," you scoffed. You were beginning to become quite a stereotype, all reserved and bitter. What happened to the law-abiding citizen that would happily cooperate with the police? "So... when, I mean, if... if one of those killers walks in through that door then...?"

"Then I fry their ass," Agent Patel grunted, patting what you assumed was a taser hooked to his belt.

"Don't worry, we've been thoroughly briefed," Clyde added reassuringly. "We know bullets are useless, but trust me, you can knock 'em out just fine."

"And when, I mean, if... it doesn't work, and whoever walks through that door kills you, then what do you recommend I do?" you asked rather casually, trying to hide your complete lack of faith in law enforcement.

"Run probably," Clyde answered, a clear frown visible on his face. "We've already set a perimeter, there are other agents outside, just get to them."

You tried to act convinced and reassured, but you had been in this situation far too many times as it was, and it always ended the same. The police, detectives, agents, whatever- they would always end up bloody puddles on the ground. And you would have to stand there, screaming and crying, watching it happen every goddamn time. By now you should be used to it. By now you were used to it.

Patel made an irritated face, his hands tugging at his phone which was visibly vibrating. He looked at the screen for a solid ten seconds, the entire time Clyde stared with a strange mix of anticipation and coolness. Patel stowed his phone away, nodding to the two of you. The agents suddenly dove into the washroom, closing the door quietly, Clyde paused to give a brief smile before disappearing behind the oak.

Go time.

You took a deep breath, then another, and another, until you forgot how to naturally breathe, having to force each inhale and exhale. It was awkward, awkward and stressful. Your fingers skimmed the bedsheets, one foot after the other, pacing about the floors. The mattress was cold now, no trace of what had conspired only hours ago. Memories, they were all full of Toby now. He was your sense of strength now, sense of calm, security, and everything else. And now he was nowhere to be found.

He was right though, dying was inevitable, he could never stay forever, people have lives of their own too, responsibilities and the likes. A shame that this responsibility, in particular, involved murdering people across the globe, but he was a slave to it nonetheless. You had a life once, responsibilities, a thing that kept you moving, a dream of sorts. Where did it go? Where did that world disappear to?

Footsteps, heavy and loud, announcing their presence to the entire world, fearless and eager.

They came to a halt, right in front of the door.

You waited for it to tear open, to break from its hinges and go flying off the wall. Instead, it opened slowly, the knob clicking into place before the door was steadily pushed inwards.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Toby came into the room, his hand gripping the doorframe like his life depended on it. A gash the size of a football was torn into the fabric of his jeans, right along his lower hips, almost severing his left leg entirely. If he was in pain, he made no indication other than his struggling to move.