CT/TW: violence, blood, death (temporary), strong language

The Sniper and Doctor stumbled into a small room, where the entrance of the elevator stood. The room was in a much different style than the labs below. Less stark white and brushed stainless steel, less fake windows and sickly bright LED lights, and much less sterile. In fact, it almost was ostentatious. Deep green walls with deep, dark brown wood paneling and furniture. The deep green couches looked like they hadn’t been touched since they’d been moved in. Large pots with large leafy plants in the corner of the lobby. Sniper mused briefly that they must be fake. Why have real plants you’d have to upkeep when you have fake windows in the cellblock?

The Doctor was bent over his knees, panting, but the Sniper heard the barest of voices. He started for the hallway and the white-haired man groaned and jogged to catch up.

“Where to now?”

“B-bedroom….”

“Huh?”

The Doctor was losing speed and the Sniper wasn’t sure they’d make it to his bedroom, though he was still unsure of where he was. 

“All the way down. Last room on the left,” panted Doc. The gunman pulled him along, nearly dragging him.

“Does it lock? Your door?”

“No. None of the guest rooms lock.” There were no accompanying archways to lock down the hallway either.

“Fuck us then.”

The Doctor reached the room and yanked the door open, beelining it for his bed. Sniper looked around and noted the window as the white haired man dropped to his knees and shimmied under said bed. He remembered the bars, but they looked so much thicker before him, rather than through a scope.

“What are you doing??” He hissed breathlessly, turning to him, then froze.

On the still-made bed was his hat, a small handful of bullets, his phone and wallet, and his rifle. Next to it was a blue briefcase with a long strap. No coat though.

“How’d you do that?!” the Sniper asked, quickly grabbing the rifle, checking if it was loaded and then started loading it. He’d only gotten 2 loaded before the other man backed out from under the bed.

“Was?? The Doctor asked, in his native tongue. He finally looked at the bed as he crawled back out, holding an odd handheld device that looked like a large proximity thermometer as well as a small red case from the hidden fridge underneath. It held the 7 perfect versions of his formula. He saw the items laid out and started. “Where did you find those??”

“On the bed,” the gunman replied, going to the door. He could hear the sounds of a guard and Warden coming down the hall, but the sounds of 2 other guards was closer. “Hang on.”

He shut his eyes, listening as the boots slowly approached the door, waved at the Doctor to duck. He took cover around the bed, took a deep breath and waited. There was an aching pause. He could hear it so easily now: one man to the side of the door, one man at the door. He flicked his eyes to where he was sure the man behind the wall was, dropped to a knee to shrink his profile, aimed and pulled the trigger.

The roar of the rifle was deafening, but he also heard amid the din the unmistakable sound of a head disintegrating from the shot. Ah, thought the gunman as he aimed at the door. Someone ain’t wearing headgear.

He pulled the trigger again. It ripped through the dark mahogany door. He heard the sound of a body drop, the barest sounds of blood spurting. Two someones.

“Nice.” He smirked to himself. Fleetingly, it felt like home.

The Warden saw the first shot completely obliterate the guard’s head through the wall. Seconds later, a second one popped the guard at the door, clean through the forehead. He and his guard froze. They could hear the sounds of the rifle reloading, shell casings hitting the floor. 

The Warden turned to his man, his voice low but also annoyed. “How the FUCK did he get a gun?”

His man gave him a dry look. “I’m not fucking going over there.”

The older man grabbed his radio.

Sniper could hear the hiss and static of the radio and mumbled a curse. “We’re about to get some major company, Doc.” He loaded 4 bullets in.

The Doctor, who’d had to clap a hand over this mouth to keep from crying out, peeked over the bed. “D…did you actually get them?”

“Damn fucking right I did.” He gave him a proud smirk as he quickly jammed the phone and wallet into his back pockets, slung the rifle strap over his shoulder and grabbed his hat. He flipped it once theatrically onto his head. “Next part of the plan?”

“You saw the parking lot in the front, right?”

“Yeah. Kinda know the outside pretty damn well. Its inside that’s the issue.”

“We need to get there.”

The gunman trotted to the window to look for said parking lot and found to his dismay that besides not being built to open, the bars were also much too close to get through, notwithstanding they were on the second floor.

By now the Doctor had opened the briefcase and saw it was insulated. As if waiting exactly for his formulas. He opened the smaller case and took one vial out, checking it in the dimming light from the window. They had a more blue tint to the milky substance, and has a slight luminosity. 7 doses of this formula…one hybrid in the Sniper. It wasn’t a lot. Hell, it wasn’t even very much.

But it was all he had, from his own hands.

He quickly put it back into the small case, put the small case into the briefcase, quickly snatched the notebooks off his desk, and put them in. He snapped the case shut, locked it, and swung the strap over his shoulder. He jammed the small handheld device into an inner pocket in his lab coat. 

The Sniper was now looking at the forest outside, the light dimming as the evening began. Inside the room that he first looked through from the outside only a few days before. The other side of a proverbial mirror.

“The sun,” he said softly. “It only comes in your window at sunset…”

“What??” Bewildered, the Doctor turned to look at him.

“Your room faces the west…you only get direct sunlight right as the sun is setting.” Sniper put a hand to the window but despite being reflected, his face was looking downward so he couldn’t see his exact expression. 

Doc could hear the melancholy in his voice, but there was no time to be disconsolate. “Sniper, we have to go.”

“Where to then?” His voice was now bereft of the somber tone and more determined. It was like a switch. He turned and his canary yellow eyes sparked. There was a life to them, hard yet determined. Much more lively than they had been since they met in that cellblock.

“Entrance. It’s just down the stairs. Then the parking lot, where the armored vans are.”

“Door ain’t gonna be wide open is it?”

The lilac eyed man frowned as the idea finally hit him. “Ah.”

Sniper listened. “And we need to get by Warden first.” He knew they didn’t have a lot of time left. “How many guards you think are here total?”

The look on the Doctor’s face told him everything, and it was nothing. “I…don’t know.”

Sniper remembered his ammo. 8 shots left. Not a lot. Hell, it wasn’t nearly enough. But the main threat at the moment was the Warden. He looked at Doc, then strode to the armoire and opened it.

“Get in. Don’t move. Don’t make a sound.”

The Warden didn’t hear much else after he sent the other guard to the entrance, watching him sneak past the Doctor’s room. He slowly approached the door, gun trained on it.

He heard the sound of the window shattering. He tightened his jaw and narrowed his eyes, opening the door cautiously. He peeked in, saw no one immediately and entered, moving straight to Doc’s window. 

As his eyes looked at the chair used to break it leaning against the bars, his mind screams at him.

They can’t get past the bars, idiot.

He swung to look around but that was a touch too late as he heard the rifle roar once more and the blinding pain of a bullet ripping through the side of his head. It was dark after that. He was dead before he hit the floor.

Sniper shimmied out from under the bed, marveling how well that had gone. He shook his head as he looked down at the body. 

“Shouldn’t’ve hesitated.” He saw Doc peek his head out of the armoire and his eyes widen. The look was more of surprise than fear.

“That….” he said as he quickly exited and clutched the case to his chest. He shook his head too and quickly went for the door. “Hurry, we don’t have much time.”

The Doctor ran into the hall, but Sniper tried to grab his arm. “Wait, hang on.”

“We’re almost there,” he said breathlessly. “Down the stairs.” 

Sniper was on his heels immediately, checking and listening. Nothing yet, which was a miracle, next to Warden literally falling for the oldest trick in the book. They came out of the hall to a sprawling foyer, with two staircases that curled around the sides, like a grand staircase to a theater. For all if splendor, it still had the ancient opulence of Doc’s room. A gilded cage meant to mimic the feel of receiving guests, when it was really meant for pushing a man towards isolation. 

The Doctor, rejuvenated by their short rest and the tantalizing freedom just inches from them, took 2 stairs at a time, nearly stumbling. Sniper could now hear a the steps of so many people from all directions; the hall they came down, the hall beneath them, even outside. He increased his pace, caught up to Doc, and grabbed his arm to yank him back behind him as they made it to the ground floor. Took cover by a bench, 

only 2 outside.

4 up the way we came,

4 in this hall down here.

and kneeled. As the entrance doors opened,

hope you don’t have helmets,

in that moment, the world almost seemed to slow, the doors parted and he had all the time in the world to aim, take one head,

one...

…then the other, like it was a cutout in a shooting gallery.

…two…

No one behind them and the doors were wide open as he heard the sounds of guards thundering from the ground floor hall, perhaps halfway down. Reloaded the last of his bullets in movements that were practiced and automatic. He heard the shell casings hit the ground like bells and turned for the Doctor.

His heart stopped, which was the second weirdest thing his new hearing had gifted him tonight—next to just being able to hear his own blood rushing through his veins. The next sound was the case bouncing to the floor as Assassin had the Doctor in an armlock, with that knife to his neck.

He raised the rifle but Assassin wasn’t stupid like all the rest to leave his head so readily available. Doc squirmed and grunted. The Sniper aimed without the scope but his hand froze just getting Doc’s head on the end of that barrel. He lowered it slightly, trying to think of a way he could do this without hurting the Doctor.

“Hesitating again?”

“Let go of him, fucker.”

“And give you a clean shot? Think I’m as stupid as Warden?”

“Yeah, actually.” He aimed again but Assassin made sure the Doctor’s head was exactly where it needed to be.

“Not as stupid as someone who can’t pull the trigger when the time comes.” He watched the barrel shake noticeably as the canary yellow eyes narrowed in fury.

“Sniper, shoot,” Doc hissed, struggling, trying to move his head, but the Assassin pressed the knife slowly into his neck. It hurt, and much more terribly than he remembered. The cruelty of such time between the violence he suffered from this man was spaced out as such to make him forget how much things could and did hurt.

“He’s not going to shoot…not when you’re here. Keeping me safe.” He gave a mocking flick of his head, not enough to give him a clear shot. “So thank you, Doctor… Its so nice of you to protect me in this hour of need.” 

Doc jerked his head but the knife bit back. He let out a small cry of pain. Assassin smirked, slowly pushing the knife into the Doctor's neck a little bit more. Sniper's hands trembled, holding his aim. The look of anger and pain in those lilac eyes made his hands shake more. But they weren't scared. They were begging, desperate, but devoid of terror.

How? Why even?

He could hear all the guards training their guns to him, but Assassin held one hand up. 

"Easy, gentlemen, you'll have your chance to pump him full of lead." His smile grew more intense. "After, all, we'll want to see if the drug took correctly, won't we." His sharp gold eyes narrowed. "I just want to see if he's all talk...if he'll take his shot, or if he's just a coward behind a scope."

"Shoot through!!" shouted the Doctor, his voice cracking in desperation. "Shoot THROUGH ME."

Annoyed, Assassin's smile faded coldly as he retracted the knife, then jammed it harder into his neck. "Shhhh."

There was a small gush of blood as Doc's eyes widened in pain, his knees buckling. A short gurgling gasp passed his lips. Yet, as if guided by an unseen hand, he jerked forward one last time, nearly breaking Assassin's hold.

His forehead was now wide open and Sniper pulled the trigger. Another clean shot, just like it was in his fateful first job. Without any hesitation, he aimed lower, and pulled the trigger again. And again. And again. And again. Each shot clean through Doc's body into Assassin, breaking his grip.  He released the other man and collapsed backward. His eyes glared absently at the ceiling, as he gasped for breath.

Somehow...somehow, the Doctor was on his feet, wobbling slightly, hand on his neck, the other hand grasping the fallen briefcase's strap, pushing off the ground and dashing towards him. Sniper reached and grabbed Doc by the arm and pulled him. They turned for the open door, the Doctor in front of him, and Sniper heard a strained voice, soaked in fury, shout, "KILL THEM."

A storm of gunfire erupted, and it was louder than Sniper had ever heard in his life. Wincing as he pushed the Doctor ahead, he checked his urge to cover his ears. 

Then like a shock of lighting, a shot struck the Sniper clean through his neck. It was strange. He could feel it slice through his throat, the force of it traveling was that paradox of so quickly he could scarcely process its speed, yet slow enough to feel it move. It only began to hurt when the fine red mist from the exit wound bloomed around him.

It didn't hurt for long. In fact, perhaps it only hurt for a second. He didn't know. He could barely feel the sensation of his knees hitting the floor, the feeling of falling. Then the world, and all the noise, just snapped off.