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

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.

I'm dead, thought the Sniper. Just 2 simple words that echoed hollowly in his own voice.

It's so quiet finally.

Then,

"You're not dead, you fool!!! Get up, GET UP!!" 

The Doctor's desperate voice sliced through that thick darkness, and the next second was a shocking, blinding experience. The sounds of the world, the gunfire, the numerous voices, his breathing, the sound of his once-still heart suddenly jack-hammering to life, even the rush of blood in his ears crashed into him with the force of a train. 

His vision kicked back in next, the world a blinding flash of light before coalescing into blocks of shadows and flashes of light. He was vaguely aware he was on his feet (somehow...?), still running. The shocking scent of the sharp, cold winter air rushing into not just his nostrils, but also his mouth as it gulped for air. It felt so fresh and yet so cold.

Wait...I'm breathing.

His hand flew to his neck, where it clapped over another hand that was already there. It was the Doctor's.  Doc, once they made it behind one of the armored vans, pulled them both to the ground. His hand was still against his neck, fingers curled around as if to hold it in place.  The Sniper wrenched it away as his calloused fingers ran over what he expected was ragged flesh and blood.

"W...what...??" Other than smears of blood, his hands only met an intact neck. Both hands flew to his throat, fingers roving across it, over and over. Trying desperately to find the shot that was supposed to have killed him.

"Move, move!!" called the Doctor as he winced from the hail of bullets beginning to rain down upon them. He had been peeking around the corner of the van but now turned and started pushing him towards another row in the parking lot. "Boy, we don't have time for this!!"

The warring sensations and overloaded thoughts in Sniper's head were almost as loud as the gunfire. First he was dead, then he wasn't, now they were running, but wait, he's still alive to run.... But his body, perhaps running on the renewed adrenaline of the entire near-to-actual-death situation, began to act in spite of his head screaming for answers. He pushed off the ground, following the Doctor, and swung the rifle back into his hands off his back, checking his ammo.

Empty.

Well. It could be worse. He could still be dead.

The Doctor quickly scuttled around the side of another van as the Sniper followed. He once again checked the rifle and let out a small grunt of frustration. "Not like looking more than once'll make more magically appear."

"One moment then." 

He looked up at the Doctor as he tore open his lab coat and button down shirt, and ran his fingers along his abdomen until he paused, as if finding what he was looking for. He produced a scalpel from one of his inner coat pockets, and before the other man could ask, deftly cut along a small section of his stomach. With a quick and unworldly efficiency, his fingers slid into the wound, fished around a bit as he winced, then pulled out 2 rifle rounds, and palmed them as one hand covered the wound. He wiped them on his trouser leg and he offered them to the Sniper, his face less like the man who just cut out bullets from his own abdomen, and more like someone who was in a hurry for a late bus.

".....what the FUCK--"

"Will they still work?" cut off the Doctor as he pushed them at the Sniper. "Or are they too sticky?"

"I...I..." Before he could press him, a ricochet pinged right next to them, and the Doctor grabbed the briefcase and his arm to drag him to the third and final row of vans in the lot.

"Here." He pushed the bullets into his hand, frantically. "Will they still work??"

The entire situation was becoming more and more outside of his ability to process, so he chose to try focusing on what he did know. He gave them another wipe on his own shirt, and loaded them quickly.

"If they jam, we'll know why." He peeked to the guards starting to swarm the lot. "But 2 ain't going to get us out of here, Doc, so I hope you got another plan."

The Doctor glanced along the row of vans up and down, then, as his gaze swept to the left, his eyes brightened slightly. "2 vans down. It's unlocked."

"You sure?"

"I left one unlocked a month ago."

The Sniper's yellow eyes gave him a very incredulous look. "And you think it's still unlocked??"

There was a sudden halt to the gunfire so both men froze.

"Doctor!!" The voice cut through the air. 

The Doctor leaned his head against the van and winced in frustration.  "Fuck," he hissed.

The Sniper's eyes were much more shocked. He looked incredulously at the other man. "No."

"Doctor, you best come out, because you really don't want me to drag you back!" The Assassin's voice was tinged with intensity. There was the sound of glass breaking. "You've really put me in a foul mood, Doctor!"

"I.....I shot that man in the fucking head." The Sniper sank to the ground and clutched his rifle tightly.  "That man was fucking...dead."

The Doctor was looking to the van he claimed he had prepared, trying to control his breathing. "So were you, minutes ago," he said simply.

His head snapped to him. He couldn't find words to articulate...well, anything, about this entire situation.

Doc briefly shut his eyes, then grasped his lab coat and shirt and whipped them open, exposing his bare chest. Outside of smears of blood from the impromptu operation his gave himself for the 2 bullets and gunshots from the stand off, there were no wounds. In fact, the cut he had made just minutes ago was fading as he stared in disbelief. His right hand traced the rapidly healing cut with 2 fingers and in the dim light, the Sniper could swear he saw something dimly illuminating. Once finished, the wound was nowhere to be seen. He closed the coat with one snap button and peeked around the back of the van, then back at him. 

"We need to run...we need to run now." His voice was low and full of a barely checked fear.  "When he gets like this..." He didn't finish, but his lilac eyes said enough.

The Sniper was about to demand an answer when the sound of a blow on one of the vans resounded, followed by the tinkling of glass after. It was closer.

"Assassin!!" cut another voice, and the demeanor of the Doctor changed immediately. Sniper could see his body begin to tremble at the sound of the Surgeon's voice. He was whispering to himself as his hand clutched the sample case in terror.

With his enhanced hearing, the yellow eyed man could hear him chanting repeatedly, "It was supposed to last 40 minutes...it was supposed to last for 40 minutes....!"

The paralytic he jammed into him while the Sniper was on the table. Apparently, it was supposed to have lasted longer, he figured. 

"Not now, Surgeon! I'm BUSY." Another broken window sounded.

"They won't get far," snapped the Surgeon, and the Sniper could hear him struggling to form words, as if it was an effort to speak. "Calm yourself. I don't want you overdoing it again."

"I won't go too far this time," insisted the Assassin, his voice fading slightly. Sniper could tell he was now facing the Surgeon to speak with him. "I promise not to hurt him...too much.... He just needs a little...punishment...!" Another broken window.

The Sniper silently got to his feet, gauged the distance of the van he hoped was the target and quickly inched to the end of the van they were sheltering behind. He grasped the Doctor's arm gently in one arm. He nodded at the target once. Though his eyes were terrified, he swallowed and nodded and prepared to move, clutching the briefcase in both hands now.

"Assassin," growled the Surgeon, his voice strained. "If anyone here has first cracks on punishing my dear wayward cousin...I lay claim on that. But I won't have anything that will be cognizant of his punishment...if you EVISCERATE HIM BEFOREHAND." The last 3 words were shouted with a white hot fury.

The Doctor froze again, his eyes inwardly full of panic. Without waiting another moment, the Sniper gave him a quick push ahead of him. They scurried to the next van and the Doctor tried the passenger side door. It didn't yield. He tried to control his breathing, as his hands trembled. Hearing the men arguing over him was slowly starting to wear him down.  

The Sniper passed him and paused, listening. 

"When I get my hands on them...I swear you won't even have enough to run DNA test!" The Assassin's voice was growing more and more unhinged.

"My dear cousin," called the Surgeon, still having to strain to raise his voice. "That's enough hide and seek for the night! If you want mercy, just come to me. Come back home, and cease this game."

"Doctor, don't make me angry!! You can't run from me!"

Doc covered his ears with his hands, trying to suppress his breathing. Sniper could hear the barest of whimpers, and it made him even more angry. He shut his eyes to listen, allowing the enhanced hearing to take over. Ignoring the rhythm of his own blood in his veins, or his and the Doctor's breathing, he could hear the crunch of gravel beneath Assassin's feet, the barely controlled, inhibited steps of the Surgeon's farther away. The sounds of the Assassin's frenzied breathing, even being able to pinpoint which direction he was facing. 

He waited until he was sure he was facing away, as he quickly rolled to the second to last van in the row. He paused again and listened. The Assassin appeared to have heard and faced his direction. 

"Gonna cut your throat out....gonna drain you dry....gonna hurt you so much, Doctor...." he could hear him mumble, nearly incoherent. What the fuck is this guy, Sniper thought. Jesus....

He glanced at Doc, trying to catch his eye, but he was more preoccupied in peeking around the edge of the van. He looked at this van, and reached for the handle of the passenger side.

Ey, God, now's the time to give me a break, huh? he thought. He gently flexed his fingers, waiting for the inevitable feeling of the lock stay in place.

There was a soft resistance to his pull, and as his heart beat faster, he pulled a little harder until there was a soft click of the handle disengaging. He exhaled slowly, shakily. He looked at the Doctor who was now looking at him desperately. He jerked his head at the door and gave him a small, hopeful smile. Doc's eyes lit up and he quickly got in position to crawl over but Sniper shook his head. He flicked his eyes to the rest of the lot, released the handle of the door and slid his rifle back into his hands from the strap.

He shut his eyes and held his breath, listening. 

"I'm gonna break you in haaaaalllllf," he heard Assassin mutter. He was much closer, and was looking in earnest to their row. 

You miss 100% of the shots you never take, he thought bitterly, as he rose, aiming on his way up, and just as the Assassin's eyes met his, he was already pulling the trigger. The shot he had given him earlier was gone, no trace of the headshot he'd given him minutes before. 

So Sniper was grimly pleased to give him one more in the same place. 

The head bloomed in a burst of blood as his body stumbled back from the force. Doc pushed off his crouch and dashed to the van door, opening it quickly, tossing the case into the passenger seat footwell as he scrambled in. He fumbled in the dim, dark car, finding the key he'd left under the floor mat of the driver's side from the passenger seat and shakily trying to fit the key into the ignition. He cursed the fact the Surgeon insisted on not having keyless ignition for the fleet, probably for this exact reason.

Sniper prepped his second shot as he rounded the front of the van and located the Surgeon. He wasn't hiding, but was leaning against the hood of one of the vans. He could see his orange eyes glowing faintly in the growing darkness. He kept his aim trained on him, as Doc started the van.

That identical face, framed by white hair, had a dead, neutral look to it.  His eyes were glaring.

"Hmph." Surgeon didn't bother moving or hiding.

"Checkmate." The aim was steady, and staring at his face through the scope was different this time. This time he felt perfectly comfortable looking at it now. He was about to pull when the Surgeon closed his eyes.

"He'll come home soon enough." He opened them once more and the glare could cut steel. "You can’t hide him forever.”

Sniper merely gave him a wordless exhalation, and pulled the trigger. His last shot tore through his face, dead center. 

Doc gasped to himself, watching. It was a shock to see his own face be blown away from a 3rd person view. The stoic look in the Sniper's yellow eyes was momentarily cold, before he shut them, took a deep breath, then glanced at him with a renewed expression of exhaustion. The next moment, he was sliding into the driver's seat and peeling out through the gate, the guards now opening fire. 

Finding the road quickly, Sniper adroitly drove past the gate full speed. Doc kept glancing out the back window, wincing as shots bounced off the armored exterior but after a several minutes of speeding, pursuit seemed to have ended. He sighed and leaned back into the passenger chair. A few moments later, he started to laugh. 

Sniper glanced at him with a worried look. 

The laugh sounded hollow at first, then quieted to an incredulous chuckle. 

"We're free."

"That so?" asked Sniper gently. He slowed down before pulling off back into the woods. He shut off the engine and leaned back in his chair too. Absently rubbing his neck. Doc was now bent over the briefcase in his lap, hands on the back of his neck, panting.

"We should keep moving," he said looking up and then nervously out the window.

"Yeah."