Chapter Thirty (Xed)
I looked down to see that Newell had passed out.
I wasn't surprised. He'd been struggling to stay awake the whole way home. His eyes were closing, then would shoot back open, then slump closed again and it would seem he'd finally given up the fight and collapsed, his cheek against my bloodied arm. He looked completely at peace for once, and odd contrast to all the blood on him.
I felt terrible for soiling him with the blood of the monsters that had tried to hurt him, but I couldn't stop myself. I had never felt so angry before that I was calm. My blood felt like hot lava in my veins, my anger mounting the more I stared into the faces of the people who scared Newell.
Yes, fear.
It was an emotion I had never seen Newell show before. He was careful about how much he let sleep free, but it would seem that as of late, he was losing control on that grip. It didn't help that the final blast of fear that had boiled over was brought on by the fact that Drake was going to do the unthinkable.
He had touched Newell with his filthy, disgusting hands. He had him strapped in some kind of restraining jacket and had stripped him from the waist down. I knew for a fact that Newell was incredibly self-conscious of his body and being naked alone was enough to crush Newell's ego. It was even worse when Drake struggled to force him down so he could take him by force.
How dare he. He wasn't worthy of touching Newell. Looking at him, speaking to him, even thinking about him. Drake didn't deserve those privileges. No one did.
Newell was perfect. He was purity. He was beautiful. And no one had the right to touch him, to sully him like Drake had been thinking.
And that fueled my hatred enough to kill them and leave them to rot. I didn't want to eat them and their tainted blood. I could only hope that their souls were being tortured in the lowest level of Hell.
We arrived back at the manor late in the evening. We had originally meant to stay behind, but there was no way we could stay with the amount of people that were crawling around the city looking for the person who murdered two men at a children's hospital.
Claude and Kristophe got out and gathered our luggage to move it back into the house. Newell still didn't wake up, nor did I feel the need too, so I lifted him up into my arms to carry him. Misha got out of the car slowly, staring up at the Gothica Manor in awe.
"This place is huge." He whispered, shivering at the cold winter breeze that blew in. I only nodded in agreement before I followed him into the manor, making sure he wouldn't make a run for it. Upon entering, we were met with Vladimir and Alexander. Thankfully, Starling wasn't present. Alexander's eyes widened at the sight of Newell and I covered in blood.
"What the hell happened?" He asked in disbelief, covering his mouth with his hand. I frowned and looked at Claude, who scoffed and folded his arms over his chest.
"A couple of friends of theirs showed up to attack and Nemo took 'em out. No problem. They're fine." He answered, to which Alexander winced and Vladimir held a pokerface as he stared at me. I wasn't sure what was going on inside his head, but I had no doubt that he knew what was going on inside mine.
"Fine," Misha sputtered suddenly, gaining attention, "I was just yanked out of my life and now I'm thrown back into this hellish mess! I don't want to be here! I want to go home. Oh god, and I have to call my job and let them know what happened. Or, well, a watered down version of it. He's never gonna believe I was kidnapped by a midget vampire and his merman bodyguard. Even I'm having difficulties believing it."
"But you're a vampire too." Claude deadpanned. Misha glared at him.
"Yeah, but I'm a sane vampire," He snapped, then glanced at Alexander and Vladimir warily, "I'm not entangled in a vicious cycle of revenge schemes and assassinations." Alexander winced, but forced a smile anyway, trying to play his sweet, innocent card.
"We're so sorry to do this, Misha," He said gently, making Misha frown suspiciously, "But it's imperative that we have you submit to a few tests. None of them are painful. We already did a few on Newell and he's fine. Er, well, he was. Uhm, anyway, we won't do it right now. You're welcome to go rest until tomorrow morning. Again, I apologize for how this turned out. We were hoping for it to be a little less... dramatic."
"You sent the most wanted person in the world after me," Misha answered heatedly, "I'm surprised the American government wasn't arresting me and I wasn't being tortured to death." Alexander said nothing to that, just looked at Vladimir helpelessly, but Vladimir was staring at Misha intently now. He got an oddly confused look on his face before he shook his head.
"Xed," Vladimir said to me, "You can take Newell upstairs to rest. I'll show Misha to his room. We'll pick up tomorrow." Everyone nodded in agreement to his plan. I went upstairs, moving as quietly as possible as I entered our room. Starling was fast asleep on the bed with several empty bags of chips, six empty pizza boxes, and a children's picture book about the three little pigs with little cheesy fingerprints all over the pages.
Part of me wondered if it was actually okay to leave Starling in Alexander and Vladimir's care now, but I pushed the thought from my mind as I stole a fresh change of clothes and took Newell into the bathroom. I should have just let him soak on his own, as I knew he'd be uncomfortable knowing I had bathed him and clothed him, but I couldn't leave him all soiled with the blood of those monsters.
Not to mention, I didn't want him to accidentally drown.
So I stripped both of us down and I got in the tub, setting Newell in my lap, his back against my chest. He still managed to stay fast asleep. He must have been exhausted. I picked up a soft pink cloth and dabbed it with a vanilla scented soap, rubbing it along his arms. The water was already turning pink from the blood being washed from his skin and soaked from mine.
I ran the smooth clothe over his skin, watching the blood smear and wash away with the soapy water, revealing the soft porcelain skin beneath. I took great care in washing the blood out of his hair with rain water scented shampoo so that none got in his eyes, even though they were closed.
After I had finally soaped us both down and rinsed the blood away completely, we just sat in the water and soaked. My heart jumped with every little sleepy murmur and moan he gave, waiting for him to wake up and shout at me, but he never did. He slept deeply, peacefully, against my chest. I could feel his little heart beating slowly and steadily in his chest, his breath coming out silently past his lips.
This was wrong, a voice in my head told me. I was no worse than Drake. I shouldn't be able to look at Newell like this, to touch him like this. While I had come to terms with the fact that I adored Newell, I downright loved him, I had also come to terms with the fact that Newell would never feel the same for me.
And that was okay. Painful, but okay. So long as I could be by his side, that was enough for me.
I risked the chance to put my arms around Newell tightly, holding him against my chest, resting my cheek on his wet hair. He still didn't wake up, much to my relief. I held him for a while, savoring the feel of how he felt in my arms. He was so tiny, so fragile, and the wound that I hoped would heal inside him continued to rip open further and further. My heart ached for him.
I wanted to take the pain away. I wanted to kill everyone who harmed Newell, as I did with Vini and Drake. Then there would be no one to stop Newell's healing process. I wanted to give him the wish he wanted most. I wanted to give him the love that no one wanted to give him. I longed to heal the wound inside him, the wound I now came to realize came from within his heart.
I tightened my grip on Newell and he gave a little moan in his sleep, tilting his head back. For a second, his eyes open and I waited for him to become angry and shout at me. Instead, he smiled sleepily.
"You're so good to me, Xed," He breathed, his hand lifting to rest over mine against his chest, his eyes fluttering shut again, "Stay that way." He fell back to sleep, limp against my chest. I shivered at his words, hugging him tight to my chest again before I reluctantly drained the water from the tub, lifting Newell out with a plush blue towel. I dried him off carefully and dressed him in one of my shirts. I picked up a pair of his underwear, pausing. I swallowed hard and pulled his shirt up, trying to avoid the urge to look at him. I pulled his underwear up over his legs, settling them at his hips before tucking the shirt back down. I lifted him up into my arms, always struck by how light he was, much lighter than I expected.
I had held people his size before and they always felt heavy, but Newell felt like a feather about to float away and it made me want to hold him tighter. I held him more like a child against my shoulder, his head resting there, tilted against mine, arms between our chests. I carried him to the bed, knocking off all of Starling's garbage and toys to the floor. I cleared off the crumbs and food before I placed Newell down under the covers. I did the same for Starling so they were both under the blankets.
I went to the lamp by Newell to shut it off, then paused as I looked down at him as he continued to sleep.
And I could have sworn he almost smiled just before I shut the light off.
I went to sleep on the sofa, but it was difficult to sleep. I just had the tingling sensation that something was wrong, but I couldn't place it. I finally fell to sleep, though, only to wake up to the television. I had been lying on the sofa, facing the screen. I opened my eyes tired, rubbing at at them before I sat up slowly, pausing to see Newell sitting at the end of the sofa, still wearing my shirt as he flipped through the channels, his eyes searching the screen. He paused, glancing at me out the corner of his eye, then back at the screen. I frowned when I noticed that his right leg was entirely bandaged up. I looked up at him curiously.
"Drake broke my leg. It healed wrong and Vladimir had to reset it." He informed flatly. I didn't like the sound of that, but he seemed to be fine now. I sat up so I was sitting beside him, my hands on my knees as he continued to fly through the channels. I glanced around the room for a moment in search of Starling, but he was nowhere to be found. I looked at Newell again and cocked my head in questioning.
"Starling's eating breakfast downstairs with Alexander and Misha." He answered me. I nodded, sitting back and looking at the screen, but Newell was still hitting buttons. I frowned, watching his finger come down on the button faster and faster until it just stuck there. I looked at him again, concerned. He looked like he was stuck in a trance for a moment before he blinked and let go of the remote, letting it hit the floor. He frowned, flexing his hand before snatched the remote up again. He caught my stare and scoffed, looking away.
"I'm fine... Just recovering," He informed, then cleared his throat and set the remote aside, "And we need to discuss what we're going to do about leaving. Vladimir is handing over the research as he promised. And Hunter's still in his room asleep. You may have to carry him to his car out back."
I made a face at that and Newell surprised me with a laugh as he leaned back against the sofa.
"I can't carry him," He told me with a smirk, "So you have to. Besides, I'll be busy carrying the important stuff." I raised an eyebrow at that. Newell gave pause now, frowning a bit before looking at me.
"And we need to look for something else." He said. I frowned curiously and he averted his eyes.
"I need to find a tarot reader." He stated. I scrunched up my nose at that. He meant getting involved with witches. Granted, not all tarot readers were witches, but from my experience, most of them were and while witches weren't necessarily bad, they still unnerved me with the amount of knowledge they had. Which led me to wonder why Newell wanted to find one. What would he need a tarot reading for? I had never pegged him to be one to worry about his future. He lived in the present, and occasionally the past, which is what led to the current relationship between him and Vladimir.
There was a knock on the bedroom door and I got up to answer it, allowing Starling to come racing in, carrying a pale blue fluffy bunny plushie toy. He excitedly ran over to Newell and hopped on the sofa next to him, holding up the bunny.
"Bunny!" He exclaimed, then smiled sweetly. Newell stared at him, caught off guard for a second before smiling faintly.
"Yes, that's a nice toy, Starling." He answered. I was surprised by how docile Newell seemed to be today. He would've normally told Starling to go away or practice his flash cards. I looked back to see that Vladimir had been the one to drop Starling off at our room. I instantly frowned, but let him in. Newell frowned when he noticed Vladimir too, his arms folding over his chest as he let Starling snuggle up to his side.
"What're you doing here?" Newell asked dryly. Vladimir glanced at me, but I wasn't going anywhere and much to my relief, Newell didn't tell me to leave, so Vladimir shrugged and looked back at Newell.
"Visiting. We have the results back," Vladimir explained calmly, making Newell frown, "We found traces of a substance that matches the DNA of that inside both Misha and myself." Newell raised an eyebrow.
"So it has DNA?" He asked. Vladimir nodded.
"We've come to the conclusion that whatever it is, it's alive. Alexander spent six hours last night staring at the damn thing through a microscope." He explained, sounding annoyed. Newell stared at Vladimir, as if trying to process the idea of the source of their powers being alive. A living creature was inside them, producing the powers of telekinesis.
"We still have just a few more tests to do, though," Vladimir went on, "We want you and Misha to come to the kitchen in a bit. Fill up on some blood before we head to the lab to do the tests."
"Which means we leave by tonight?" Newell asked, sounding hopeful. Vladimir shrugged.
"Depends on how well you behave for the tests."
"I am not a child."
"No, but you act like one."
"You are so annoying."
"Likewise."
"Anyway," Newell said in a hard voice, clenching his fists and Vladimir flashing a sugar sweet smile that made me grimace, "What about Hunter? If he's been asleep this whole time, how have you been feeding him? He is a human, you know." Vladimir shrugged.
"I manage."
"How?"
"I don't share secrets." Vladimir returned with an engimatic smile that made Newell narrow his eyes suspiciously. I was also curious, but at the same time, I honestly didn't care if Vladimir was just making up an excuse for not having fed Hunter. I wasn't too enthusiastic to have Hunter join us again, but if Newell wanted it, I would make it happen. Sadly.
Vladimir left us alone so Newell could dress properly for the testing. I fetched him a pair of black dress pants and a turtleneck. I started to set the clothes down and leave them behind when Newell cleared his throat and I looked at him curiously.
"I can't exactly put my own pants on without hurting my legs." Newell deadpanned. I blinked, letting that sink in. I stared at his expression to try and pick up if there was a hidden meaning, but Newell was the master of hiding what went on in his head and only picked up the turtleneck, gracefully pulling it on over his head. I took the pants and knelt down in front of him on the sofa. He sat there calmly, one arm on the arm rest of the sofa, the other beside him on the seat.
"I need socks," Newell added suddenly, making me glance at him, "Grab a pair of those too. And my shoes. I can't very well get up to get them, can I?" I raised an eyebrow at that and he glared at me as a warning, so I got up and grabbed his shoes and socks. I came back, picking up a dark sock and rolling it up before pulling it onto his foot.
He had such small feet. It was difficult to find him shoes sometimes. But his skin was very soft, I noted as I rolled the socks up to his knees the way he liked it. I looked up to see if I had gained a reaction, but Newell was completely stoic. I rolled his other sock up his leg, then picked up his pants. I slid his legs into the pantlegs and slowly pulled them up his legs.
Now I was getting a reaction, I noted, watching goose bumps form on his pale skin. But that was the only reaction, because looking back at his face, he was staring straight ahead at the television, but I don't think he was actually watching it.
Taking a risk, I moved a bit slower, my fingers gently brushing his skin. I saw his teeth clench behind his lips. I pulled his pants up onto his hips, adjusting them a little before I pulled the zipper up and buttoned the top. I started to leave, but Newell caught my arm and pulled me back.
"My shoes." He stated emotionlessly. I gave him a short nod and knelt back down, picking up one of his small feet and sliding it into his sleek black shoe. I did the same with the other and stood up, waiting for him to stop me this time, but he didn't.
Odd, I thought as I took my shirt from him and carried it to my bag near the closet. Why would he suddenly ask me to dress him? Granted, the difficulties of dressing with a busted leg were a logical reason, but something in me told me that it was just an excuse for Newell to boss me around. He seemed to gain a sick pleasure from telling me what to do, but I didn't protest it. If anything, I enjoyed doing things for Newell-- from time to time, of course. There were some things, like the situation in New York, that I did not enjoy doing.
When I came back to sit on the sofa, Newell was shutting the television off and pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. I frowned at him before he looked up, slumping back against the sofa.
"They better not put me in another machine, otherwise, I'm going to rip their throats open." He muttered tiredly. I only cocked my head in sympathy. Newell looked at me for a moment, then looked away in silence. He didn't say anything for a while and I only sat there, waiting. I could see the gears working in his head. He was thinking hard about something, especially with the way his eyes flickered every so often, his lips parting as if he were about to speak, before pursing shut again.
It was almost ten minutes before he finally spoke and kept his expression as relaxed as possible as he avoided eye contact.
"About yesterday," He said slowly, then paused again to frown before continuing, "You came the moment I called you. No, rather, you come every time I call you. You have had plenty of chances to abandon me, and plenty of reasons. I'm incredibly hard to deal with. I know this. And that moment would have been the perfect moment for you to just leave me behind."
I frowned at that. Maybe so, but I wouldn't have done it. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I had abandoned him to save myself. Of course, I couldn't say that and Newell was left in silence once more before he sighed, frustrated.
"Look, don't get used to this or anything, as I don't make it a habit, but... If you hadn't of come in sooner, I probably would have allowed them to kill me. So... Thank you." He muttered, head turned in the opposite direction. I raised an eyebrow, perplexed.
He just thanked me, which he never did, not with this amount of sincerity. It made my heart clench in my chest and I ached to hold him in my arms, but he seemed to be embarrassed enough with thanking me that he didn't need me cradling him to make it worse. I just nodded and he seemed satisfied with that, clearing his throat awkwardly.
"Anyway, we should get going. The sooner we leave this place, the sooner we can get back to our own lives," He announced, then frowned, "And unfortunately, I can't walk with my leg still busted. It'll be another hour or two before I can walk on my own." I nodded and got up, walking over and reaching beneath him, lifting him up into my arms. At least I got to hold him now, not as tightly as I would have wanted, but this was enough for me.
"Starling," Newell said suddenly, making Starling look up from having been playing with his bunny and being totally oblivious to our conversation, "Behave. Just stay here, understood?" Starling beamed and nodded his head, going back to playing with his toy. We left the room and headed downstairs to the kitchen.
"Let's stop by Hunter's room." Newell spoke up, making me look at him curiously, but I didn't question his desire to see the human and I turned course for Hunter's room. I opened the door and carried Newell inside.
Hunter was still lying on the bed, fast asleep on his stomach, hair a wild dark mess against the pillow and partially hanging over his stubbled fast. His goggles were askewed and his clothes were all rumpled and disheveled.
"He almost looks like a child." Newell commented. I said nothing, but I did want to say that Hunter acted like a child. The man had a sharp tongue and cocky attitude. His awful attitude is what led to his capture in the first place. I could only hope that Vladimir had implanted him with a new memory to make up for what he'd lost.
"He needs a shower," Newell muttered, wrinkling his nose in disgust, "But it looks like Vladimir's been feeding him. The last thing we need is our source of transportation dying of starvation. Humans are like dogs. They need to be fed, bathed, and given attention. Thankfully, Hunter only requires the first two and while he begs for the third, he's certainly not getting it from me." This was one of the times I was thankful not to speak, because I wouldn't have been able to resist telling Newell that he cared enough to come check on Hunter, which was technically giving him attention.
But then, I don't think I had to speak that because Newell seemed to hear my thoughts and glared up at him.
"I'm just protecting our asset. What're you smirking for?"
I was smirking?
"Let's go down to the kitchen already." Newell snapped. I obeyed, taking him out of Hunter's room and heading downstairs to the kitchen. Misha was already there, sitting at the large island counter, his hand against his head, elbow on the table, the type of position that said I'd rather not be here. He looked exhausted, his dark hair disheveled. He looked up when he saw us, a small frown working its way onto his lips.
"Your leg's broken?" He asked. Newell snorted as I set him down onto one of the bar stools and went to fetch him some blood from the fridge.
"Unfortunately. It should heal in an hour or so, though," He responded, then waited for a moment before speaking again, "Did you sleep well?" Misha scowled.
"Absolutely not. I'm in a strange house with strange people who kidnapped me from my normal life just to throw me back into the dangers of politics and terrorism. Why can't you people keep your dramatic, horrible lives to yourselves?" He demanded. I frowned at his harshness, but I understood it and I'm sure Newell did too. People like Misha protected themselves, pulled the wool over their eyes in order to hide from a world that was too dark. We'd torn him out of his safety zone and into the danger zone. He had every right to be upset.
"Well," Newell went on, ignoring Misha's tirade, "You'll be happy to know that we only have one more test and once that's over, we'll get together and drop you off at home before we continue on our way." Misha blinked at that, then looked down into his mug of blood for a while before looking up.
"And where will you go?" He asked. Newell raised an eyebrow as I placed a glass of blood in front of him and stood behind him, watching Misha, who frowned.
"Why would it matter to you? You don't want to get involved in our business. And I'm a psychotic murderer, right?" He asked. Misha blushed.
"Well, no offense, but I haven't met one person from our world yet that doesn't speak ill of you." He replied defensively. Newell smirked, taking a sip of blood before licking his lips.
"Of course. Always believe the masses. What they say is true." He answered. Misha shifted uncomfortably.
"I don't gossip, I just listen." He said. Newell shrugged.
"What's the difference? You're gossiping about me right now. To me." He added, taking another deeper gulp of blood. Misha sputtered at that.
"W-Well, maybe if you didn't go around killing people and out living for just yourself, then maybe people wouldn't talk garbage about you behind your back." He insisted. Newell scoffed.
"I don't live for anyone else. I don't care about anyone else. I kill people to survive, and if they piss me off, I kill for pleasure. I'm not going to idly sit by and let people kick me around. I've already lived that life and I couldn't take it anymore. You have less complaints because people look at you and they respect you right away. You look like a fine upstanding adult. In this world, it's all about appearances. The way you dress, the way you style your hair, your jewelry, your face, your height, weight, all of it. If you look the part, you are the part. If you don't look the part, well, society has a nice little corner for people like that. And I've lived in that corner my whole life." He explained bitterly, making Misha grimace.
"Well... People are cruel."
"Tell me about it."
"But that doesn't mean you have to be cruel. You're just proving to everyone how sick and twisted you are by behaving the way they sculpted you." Misha insisted. Newell scowled.
"That's ludicrous." He didn't elaborate and I could tell Misha's words were annoying him. To avoid an argument, I touched Newell's shoulder, making him glance at me. I made a gesture to indicate we should head to the lab for the experiment. Newell nodded and finished off his glass. I lifted him into my arms with ease before we left Misha alone to stew in his own anger and annoyances.
I walked in silence, feeling Newell tense in my arms. He was annoyed. I'm surprised he didn't retaliate much harsher towards Misha. Misha had struck a few buttons in Newell that I'd seen him kill people over. If Misha wasn't so important to their research, I'm positive Newell would have wanted to kill Misha.
We arrived at the lab, people still moving around quickly to get things done. Alexander and Vladimir were standing near a smaller room, talking quietly with a man in a white lab coat. I made my way over just as the third man left.
"How's your leg?" Alexander asked Newell, who frowned.
"It's almost healed. I don't want to walk on it to ruin the healing just yet." He answered. Alexander nodded in understanding while Vladimir opened the door to the smaller room.
Inside were two small hospital like beds with restraints, something that concerned me. A couple of machines sat around the beds as well as a small closed off room, like the MRI room, where Vladimir went to first. Alexander motioned me to carry Newell to one of the beds. I placed him down carefully, eyeing Alexander closely as he picked up a clipboard that hung on the side of the bed. He made a few notes as Newell watched suspiciously.
"What is this last test?" He asked. Alexander nibbled his lower lip, obviously nervous, before he looked up.
"Well, it's kind of a search and destroy test. Uhm, basically, we're going to try and get certain memories to resurface and see how the creature has changed over time and why it left. It might be something that you did, something that happened to you, or just personal reasons. We're also going to compare yours and Misha's experiences to see what made the creature appear to you in the first place, to see what attracted them. Vladimir... already went through his last night." He admitted, pausing to glance over his shoulder nervously at Vladimir, who was clicking and typing away at a computer in the glass room.
"I don't like the sound of this." Newell deadpanned, looking directly at Alexander, who swallowed hard.
"But it's important to the research," Alexander pressed, "Really important. It could show us if the creatures have their own cognitive thinking, what makes them take hosts, what makes it do this and that. It's just really important. Please, Newell. You have to withstand it as long as you can. We'll start from the moment the creature infiltrated your mind to the moment it left. That's all. We won't know specifically what memories are going on in your head, just general moments and emotions, like anger during a family intervention or sorrow during a loved one's death. It won't give us details on the memories, unfortunately, so that's going on your part and what you remember."
"And you won't show your results to anyone else?" Newell asked, watching Alexander place the clipboard down and pick up one of the restraints.
"No, the results are strictly confidential. Only Vladimir and I will be able to see them." He replied, holding the restraint out for Newell's wrist. Newell grimaced.
"What are the restraints for?" He asked. Alexander hesitated.
"Uhm, a precaution. Vladimir... kind of needed them, so I'm assuming you might also." He responded. Newell glanced at me, almost as if he were asking if this was such a good idea or not anymore. I didn't know how to react to that. It was important, but at the same time, it sounded like Alexander was indicating the test would be painful on an emotional level. Newell's past wasn't a picnic in the park. I wasn't sure he wanted to relive any of it, but instead of backing down, Newell placed his wrist in the restraint firmly.
"Fine." Newell stated. Alexander nodded gratefully and put the straps on him. He was careful to place a restraint on Newell's broken leg, which seemed to already be just about finished healing.
A few moments after we had gotten Newell restrained, Misha came in and pulled up short at the sight of what was going on.
"Uhm, do I need to know what happening?" He asked uneasily. Alexander smiled reassuringly as he led Misha to the other bed.
"It's fine, trust me..." He began to explain the procedure and Misha seemed to relax, but only slightly as Alexander helped him onto the bed and applied the restraints. I stood beside Newell's bed, looking down at him as he laid there with cords hooked to his head and chest. He looked incredibly uncomfortable, his eyes flickering around the room until they caught me. He stared at me for the longest time.
"If I scream," He told me in a low enough tone so that no one else could hear, "Get me out." I stared at him for a moment, then nodded. He relaxed at that. Alexander came over and put a small mask in my hand.
"I need you to apply the anesthesia as soon as I say so. After that, you and I will go in the room with Vladimir to monitor the activity." He told me. I nodded, holding the mask and looking at Newell, who seemed calm now. Alexander took the mask for Misha's, then glanced over at Vladimir. He gave him a signal and Vladimir nodded, hitting a few buttons before Alexander gave me the go ahead and I placed the mask on Newell's face.
He stared at me for the longest time, and for a second, I swore I saw the same flicker of fear go through his eyes, but the anesthesia was already taking effect and his eyes glazed over before fluttering shut, his head slumping to the side. It took a tad bit longer with Misha, but he was out shortly as well.
Alexander took the masks and set them aside before gesturing for me to follow him into the glass room. We went inside and shut the door. I noticed Alexander had locked it, but even if he locked it, it wouldn't stop me from helping Newell when he told me to. We approached the monitors, dual screen with one showing Newell's brain and the other showing Misha's. Misha's seemed to remain the same, a few flickers of color. Newell's instantly darkened and I felt my stomach sink.
Maybe this was a bad idea.