Click didn't see himself falling for the job all too well.
Sorting papers? Filing documents? Any idiot with a brain could do that... except him. Then again, it was temporary on purpose.
A month away from Seven felt like a man without his handy Swiss Army Knife. The world made sense when this pair were together, hand in hand, taking the world by storm. Fearless were these two -- unbroken, unchained, unionized like two lovers at sea. He loved that knife to death. It was special to him -- the twisted strength, the glimmer of it's perfect, stainless-
He was going off topic. But what better to compare his first love to his next? Seven was just as important to him as he was to her. For six years they have thrived together, understanding each other's personalities from scent to touch. And, like a pair, they were able to predict one another, like the itch she'd nuzzle on his back, or the soft flesh beneath her neck that he'd caress to calm her. What became universal was the sound they'd make; Seven's tongue would flap upward, cracking the air, and Click's tranquil wind cresting between his front teeth.
Still, any person would consider it the strangest and luckiest bond of all time, but he didn't bother. Even while the world saw a man being protected by his predator, she was nothing more than a friend he could trust.
And, so, she became his world.
But the second his bored fingers turned on the television above his sorting desk, his entire world came crashing down. Devastated would be one word for his reaction. Horror would be another. No matter the term, the once-humbled trainer was rocked to find a burned out INGEN building on the news in Palo Alto, California.
The same exact one he left Seven in.
There was no thought that crossed his mind. No word to garner. His body took control in an instant, fumbling for his phone, his leather jacket, and the keys to his pickup truck waiting idly in the parking lot. No matter the frantic growls from his bald boss or the confused grunts of the staff, all his attention now focused on one thing: Seven.
How terrible of a mistake was it to leave her there under Wu's protection? Now that he thought about it, he couldn't believe he faltered for his boss's self entitlement. He was in this mess because of him.
And himself, included.
After swinging the car door open, a frazzled Click twisted his keys into the slot, hearing the engine vroom to life, and slammed onto the brakes. The pickup screeched, scrambling backwards off the lot's edge, much to everyone's horror, and swerved across the bend into traffic. Streams of smoke rippled from the grinding rubber, leaving a poor dent into the street-
And a terrible smell for the bystanders to whiff at.
It took three long minutes of utter silence, before Click finally screamed. Slowing to a red light, Click reacted just as his indoraptor friend would -- roaring into whatever stood before him and destroying any piece of evidence that bore witness to it.
That would be his dashboard in this case.
"STUPID, LITTLE-!" He slammed his fist into the dashboard over and over, hearing the poor car groan and crack under every strike. "GOD DAMN IT!"
His words turned to screams. His screams to hapless little wails. And, after a dent had split the poor leather surface of the old pickup, there was nothing left to give. Click's bloodied knuckles slumped over the wheel, his eyes growing misty out of his pained emotions. He drove off just as the green light took hold of his visage, still whimpering for a breath.
"Not Seven..."
Those hands tightened again. Speeding up into the lane ahead, his pickup truck swerved ahead of the traffic, speeding across the highway toward his home out of desperation. The sunlight lighting his first tear reflected to the mirror, forcing Click to brush it away with a rub. He already lost his wife. He lost his two girls to life.
He couldn't lose Seven. Not after all this.
A minute into the drive, Click's right hand dove for the phone within the jacket. He didn't need to look to know who to dial, and, upon putting it on speaker, readied his growls, just waiting for an answer.
But none came. Only a woman's voice, ordering for a voicemail.
BEEP!
"So... when you said it was safer in your hands than mine, were you being sarcastic?" he sharply hissed, slowly starting to dig into the gas pedal. "Because it looks like you got... e-everything handled over there! I mean, flames, explosions, dead scientists -- you are a wonder of this planet, Henry! Man, what I would give to just believe you for once -- you know... maybe if you stopped acting like a freakin' robot, you'd keep things under control, but no! You go all of INGEN-"
MESSAGE ENDED.
Click cursed under his breath, redialing the same number, and waited for the beep.
BEEP!
"Hey Wu, it's me -- your angry little friend from California. Listen... I'm just here to congratulate you on one hell of a scare because... this is amazing! You're making me go ninety in a seventy-seven mile per hour highway, panicked as hell because your 'promise' just backfired on ALL OF US! INGEN doesn't blow up on itself, so, if you hurt Seven, I swear-"
MESSAGE ENDED.
Click stared at the phone again. He was certain he wasn't pressing the red button at the end, so it must've been the timing of his message. Confused, and annoyed, he tried one more time.
BEEP!
"You think I'm going to stop calling you, bastard?!" Click growled, snatching the phone to draw to his maw. "I'm Karen now! I will bug you over and over until you confirm something about Seven that'll ease my bloody blood pressure. You don't need a PhD to walk two feet and pick up the phone! So, stop synthesizing, and answer the-"
"HOLY!"
SCREECH!
BOOM!
"..."
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BEEP!
"H-Hey Wu... it's me again," Click sighed, now laying on the speckled earth near the side of a road. "I um... I accidentally back-ended a Ford on the highway. Didn't realize that highways had red lights."
He looked up, watching a tow slowly lift his car onto its back. Hearing the subtle groan of broken metal and glass splintering down the ruined front made his heart give way. The trainer didn't mind the blood specks on his face or fingers, let alone the pain -- that was less important than the issue at bay. So he huffed, returning to the phone, and began to speak.
"But everyone's okay. I just..."
Click swallowed, pressing the phone tight to his ears, his eyes beginning to water.
"Henry..." his voice was beginning to crack. "Please tell me she's okay. I don't want to go through this hell again. She's all I have..."
He lowered the phone, taking a heavy sigh, and drew the phone back to his ears.
"P-Please call back. I need to k-know. Because, if not, it'll be your fault... and mine. She's a good hybrid... the best of the best. She doesn't deserve th-"
END OF MESSAGE.
Drawing the phone an inch lower, Click took another mournful sigh, brushing away a few more tears, before sniveling. "Just answer. Please..."
The phone went dead.
Click shuddered, raising a hand to coat his maw, and squeezed his eyes shut. Soft, mournful sobs rippled from his body as he sat there, contemplating all that had happened. While a part of him hoped for Seven's survival, another piece trembled over the prior memory of seeing that burning building on the news. The flames, the heat, the dead scientists...
If she was dead-
"You have car insurance, bud?" a voice grunted. Click lifted his teary eyes to an older man standing above him, and quietly gathered the hardboard and pencil from his fingertips.
"I'll write it down," he raised his hands. "Thanks..."
Click stared off into the paper for a moment, blinking away his tears, and exhaled. She had to be alive, he thought to himself, beginning to write away. She's survived explosions, she's strong. She's brave. Smarter than me, if I must say.
But the human world will not spare her. Not like what they've done to her kin. If they find her before he does.
He shuddered. It was frightening to think of such a desolate future. They had a good long run of success and triumph. Would it end like this? Separated in challenged worlds of dinosaurs and man?
Click lowered the pencil a second time, and swallowed. Find her, his mind croaked. Bring her home. He could almost imagine Seven staring at him from the paper, her glistening blue eyes reflecting the strong, military boy he had grown up to be. And the soft innocent boy from Chicago that he once was.
When something goes wrong, you deal with it, he echoed the words of his past leader. Military. Civilian. Good or evil. Human or not. Nobody else will commit but you. So, no matter what it takes, finish the mission.
Inhaling the remainder of his anguish and tears, Click returned his attention to his damaged truck, and nodded.
"Okay..." he breathed.
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