I'll be honest- this has been one of my favorite chapters to write... it doesn't do much plot wise but it's really long and I dunno thought it featured a pair not mentioned very much. It's long enough already I'm done :) Make sure to comment and vote, let me know how you like this disaster.
- RAWT
Ian's heart pounded so loud, he thought the entire world could hear it. He couldn't remember a single thing. He held his head, confused. His fingers paused on a plastic tube behind his ear, and he noticed he had an oxygen tank hooked up to his back, leading into each nostril. He sucked in air gratefully. He then groaned and clutched his belly. He slid out of the seat he was in and crumpled to the ground, moaning.
"Ian!" A voice screamed to him. His vision was blurry, but he made out a tall figure with a familiar streak of blue hair.
"Damien," Ian croaked out, groaning. Even with the oxygen pumping into him, he found he could hardly breathe. He tried to hoist himself up, but his body convulsed and he fell again.
"Dude!" Damien cried, running up to Ian. He embraced Ian, who responded with a fit of coughs. "Oh, god, you're so pale..." Damien remarked, his brown eyes wide with concern. "We have to get you out of here."
"Damien," Ian croaked again. Blood dripped from his crimson lips. His eyes could barely stay open, and the rest of his face was as white as a sheet. He slumped over into Damien's arms, heaving, shutting his eyes. This was it. He was going to die. Finally. Took him falling from a blown hospital (his fault), being kidnapped (probably his fault), and being put into a coma (definitely his fault).
"Oh my god, oh my god," Damien quietly freaked out, his eyes glossy. "Ian. Ian! Please stay... awake..." He was going to say alive, but he stopped himself.
"Where's... where's... where's everyone..." Ian stammered out in between heavy breaths.
Damien swallowed. "They're- okay. It'll be okay." He tried to convince himself. One of his friends was non-existent, his other friend dying in his arms. What the fu(bleep) was his life? "Shayne is... he's not Shayne anymore." Damien sighed. "I don't know what happened to him. I just want this nightmare to be over."
"Don't we all," Ian muttered, then groaned, curling over his stomach.
"I'm sorry," Damien squeaked.
"Why... why... why are you...?" Ian gasped out.
"Because here I am, complaining, and you're literally about to die-"
Ian shook his head slowly. "You... you aren't complaining. You... you're... just..." he paused. "Speaking out... what you want to see. There's no... harm... in..." Ian stopped. More blood gushed out of him, covering his oxygen tubes with sticky red fluid.
"Okay, buddy," Damien said hurriedly. "Let's stop talking now. That only seems to make you worse. I can't lose you, too," Damien said under his breath.
Ian let out a shuddery breath. "What do you mean... that Shayne...?"
"He's Courtney Freakin' Miller now," Damien shuddered. "It was like a werewolf thing, almost. It was traumatizing."
Ian's eyes shut again, and he gritted his teeth. "Please tell me... everything... will be over soon..." Ian gasped through staggered breathing. "Why aren't you... you with them...?"
"Your trance thing must've wore off when you knocked me out... I guess I need more training," he quietly joked, then added, "but... you allowed yourself to be used just to save us from harm... why?" A small grateful smile appeared on his face.
"I... I hurt... I hurt you?" Ian asked in quiet shock, studying the dried blood.
"Yes," Damien admitted. He saw Ian's face change and quickly added, "but I'm okay! Promise. Just rest, okay man?" Damien held Ian close. "All of this will be over soon."
"That's right," a voice bellowed. "It'll be over for you, at least."
Ian laid back in Damien's arms, gritting his teeth with anger (and pain, but that was pretty obvious). "You..." he snarled, his view mostly blocked by his bulge, but he knew exactly who it was.
"Why yes, it is me," the white king said sweetly. Damien put a protective arm in front of Ian, who could only lay there and struggle breathing. "Nice to see you again. Ian, Damien," he nodded at both of them, who narrowed their eyes. "Enjoying your stay here?"
"You know that answer very well," Damien snapped. "What are you doing here? Where's everyone else? I swear, if you have them..."
"Alas, I don't," the king huffed, annoyed. "But to answer your first question, I came to settle a dispute with a friend." He leered at Ian as he said this. "Move aside, Mr. Haas."
"What?! Friend?!" Damien yelled, his arm blocking the king from Ian. "You're just going to hurt him! Why pick on Ian, and not me?"
"Because he OUTWITTED ME!" The king thundered. "Using his rule against me, hurting you himself... THAT WASN'T FAIR!" The king had a mini tantrum and Damien addressed Ian.
"You didn't do that on purpose, did you," Damien muttered. Ian shook his head.
"OH FOR THE LOVE OF THE WHITE QUEEN!" He pushed past Damien and ripped the oxygen tubes from Ian's face. Ian couldn't breathe well before, but now he wasn't getting anything. He choked, blood leaving his lips with every cough. Damien watched in horror as his friend slowly suffocated to death, curled up on the ground in a fetal position next to a growing puddle of blood. "Now you'll die slowly..." the king cackled to Ian. "Unless, of course... your friend wants to finish the job." the king sneered, driving the blade of a knife into the ground, feet from Ian. He flinched, and the king grinned. "Maybe Mr. Haas will be a good friend and put you out of your misery faster."
Damien tried to snatch the precious oxygen back, but the king had already begun to walk away, leaving them in the dark interrogation room. Damien dropped down to Ian, whose breathing was very, very heavy. He gasped for air, wheezing.
"Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod Ian hang in there!" Damien begged him. "Please, dude, don't die... oh god, please don't..."
Ian let out a loud moan, before wheezing out. "Get... the fu(bleep)ing... knife..."
Damien's eyes widened. "No, Ian!" Damien cried. He felt his anxiety overpowering. "Don't make me do that! I can't do that, Ian... I know you're in pain but-"
Ian heaved, coughing loudly, before interrupting Damien. "No... I'm not... use the knife... to our advantage," he groaned and rolled over on his back. His blue eyes were glazed over and his lungs struggled to find oxygen. His large belly rose up and down through staggered breaths.
"I've want... I've wanted this... to end..." Ian wheezed, "but now that... I think... it's finally the... the end I'm-I'm scared," Ian got out.
"Ian, stop! Don't talk like that!" Damien cried out. With a sudden burst of adrenaline, he hoisted Ian up with a grunt. Ian was surprised as he felt his body picked up and he looked over at Damien, impressed. "If we figure out how... we can get out of here." Damien said, determined. "I'm not leaving you behind." He grunted, unbalanced. "Oh god, you're really heavy..." Damien huffed.
Ian fought back the urge to say "Gee, Damien, I wonder why?" He instead got out, "Put me down... save... your strength, then..." Damien nodded and carefully propped Ian up against the wall. He settled with a soft moan, but gave Damien a small nod toward the door.
Damien cringed when he saw more blood spray from Ian's mouth. The growing puddle was becoming the growing pile. But he couldn't freak out about it now... he had to find a way to get Ian and himself out of the interrogation room.
Damien surreptitiously crept toward the door. His heart pounded in his ears. He knew the door was probably locked tight, but it never hurt to try.
He reached over and hastily turned the knob, hopeful. He disappointedly shook his head at Ian. "Locked." Ian let out a soft sigh. "But-but we'll find a way out. Promise," Damien vowed.
Ian smiled tiredly, both hands rested on his belly. He looked as if he were in an entirely different world from Damien, his blue eyes shiny and glazed. Damien was debating going over there and shaking him, screaming for him to come back.
Damien went over near where the king stuck the knife. He shakily removed the knife from the floor and held it up, the blade shimmering.
Damien stabbed the knife into the crack in the door and jiggled it around, hoping to use the object as a crowbar to pull open the door.
No budging. Damien cursed under his breath. In anger, he lashed out and struck the doorknob with the knife, making a loud clang.
Ian winced at the noise. He continued to breathe heavily in a series of gasps and wheezes.
Damien attacked the door knob again, desperate, and cried out in frustration. He stuck the knife into the door and slid down against the closed door.
"Damien... it's okay, you... you tried," Ian murmured.
Damien put his face in between his knees and screamed. Ian tried to inch his way over to be with his friend, but his first movement made him moan. Damien instead crawled over to Ian, still propped up against the wall.
"Well, at least I'm dying with a good friend," Damien muttered, leaning up against the wall next to Ian.
Ian's breaths shortened. Heavy, quick breaths left his body, and he didn't look like he had much time. "Please," he rasped, "can this... just... end...? I don't want..." he couldn't even finish his sentence he was in so much pain. Damien swallowed, grasping Ian's hand.
He glanced over at the knife sticking in the door and gulped. Desperation and determination took over him and he walked over to the door. He was about to grab the knife when he heard a click.
He looked down, and the doorknob was slowly twisting. He snatched the blade and backed up, hiding behind the opening door with the knife. The door suspensefully creaked open slowly.
A small pawn walked in. Ian's eyes widened. "It's you," he rasped. Damien looked ready to tackle her, but Ian croaked out, "Wait, Damien, don't."
The pawn's eyes practically bugged out of her head, and she trembled violently. "Oh. Sorry," Damien mumbled quietly, stepping aside.
"I'm sorry, sir," the little pawn squeaked back. Then, she pulled the door open further and squeaked, "you'd better hurry, sir. He'll be back soon." She shakily reached into her bag and scurried over to Ian like a little white mouse. She wiped his face off with a damp rag and dropped a cough drop into his palm. "Sorry, sir, it was all I had." Damien scoffed at the cough drop.
Ian's eyes shone with gratitude. "Thank you." He smiled weakly at her, and she planted a kiss on his cheek. Damien pocketed the cough drop.
"Hang in there, Mr. Hecox," she told him on her way out.
Hang in there. He had a lot of people say that to him today. Then they both realized the door was actually open. They exchanged relieved glances. Freedom.
Damien hoisted Ian up again with another grunt. "Who was that?" Damien asked.
"a... friend," Ian smiled sadly as Damien crept out of the room. He carefully escaped the white fortress and made it to a group of small buildings near a forest. Sanctuary. "Now what?!" Damien asked, out of breath, as he set Ian down. Ian sat up against a tree, breathing heavily. He let out a shrill shriek and clutched his stomach.
Damien glanced around frantically to see if anyone had heard Ian's outburst. When no chess pieces came rushing over, Damien sighed, looking over to his helpless friend. "Dude, I don't know what to do. Any ideas?"
But Ian didn't say anything. His breathing slowed as he desperately tried to get in more air with each inhale, making Damien realize just how serious this was.
"Come on, Ian," Damien told him, hoisting Ian up again. "We have to find everyone else. Or... find you a hospital. Whatever comes first." Readjusting his hold on Ian, Damien started to walk off. Where he was going... he had no fu(bleep)ing idea.
He just had to get out of there. For his friend's sake.
***
"HOW MANY TIMES CAN ONE GROUP OF PEOPLE ESCAPE?!" The white king screamed at the bishops. They both trembled in fear under the shadow of the king.
"It-it will p-please you to know, sir, that we've caught the culprit," a bishop stammered. The strong-statured rooks strided in holding onto a small white pawn. She looked terrified, desperately trying to wiggle out of the rooks' grips. Nothing she did worked.
The king approached the little pawn, who stiffened. "Hm. CPN-7." He bent down to her level and her eyes bugged out. Her body trembled. "Can I ask... why... you would let these," he laughed softly, "prisoners go? You work under me, correct?" The glare he gave her demanded a response.
Now, normally the pawn would nod and respond, "Yes, my king". Now wasn't the case. She gathered all the courage she could muster and spoke up. "N...no." she squeaked.
The king glared at her. "...what?" He hissed.
"I-I-I... no! They will stop you!" She cried out triumphantly. "I will not be called ChessPawnNumber-7, if anything, you can call me Winnie!"
The king blinked. "Winnie?" He scoffed.
"They will stop you...!" she said again, less triumphant, fear overcoming her.
The king smirked. "Rooks, take care of her." As they ushered her off, he added, "we'll be fine without our seventh pawn, won't we?"