Doc could hear him reload again. "Holdin' up?"

"S-somehow."

"Good." The forest was quiet now but there was a heavy air of tenseness that he couldn't shake. "Then--oh shit--" Immediately cutting him off was a heavy impact to the door, and Doc recoiled sharply. The sounds of a scuffle, no, more like a fight for life, banged against the side of the camper. He raised his head to try to look, but a strangled order came from Sniper.

"DON'T MOVE!" It was a hard, desperate 2 syllables. Tinged with panic, with determination, but also with a hint of disbelief. The sound of something hitting the camper door, but nothing like the butt of a gun or a body part like a fist. Or head. The sounds of 2 men struggling. The screech of metal on metal. A knife on armored siding.

"Doc," came the voice again. Tired, exhausted, but also with a hint of pleading and desperation. "Open the door."

Sniper was right. He would know. He could tell. The difference between the voices was stark. They sounded the same. Just as tired and desperate.  Except one was real.

And the other was a lie.

"Doc...I need you...open the door...."

"DON'T!  LISTEN!"

"Doc, he's GOING TO KILL ME!"

"SHUT. YOUR FUCKING. HOLE!"

Doc clapped his hands over his ears. He could tell the difference...and yet, what kind of a man leaves someone who needs help?

He heard Sniper and Assassin fighting against the door.

Doc couldn't take it any more. His hand flew to the lock and gave it a sharp yank to disengage it.

Sniper heard it like a shot in silence. "DOC NO!!" There was another impact against the door, harder. A dull thump of a skull against the metal of the armored vehicle. A scratching, scrambling of nails and a blade against metal, impacts of fists or heads, boots scraping for footing against the forest floor.

He heard the door open, the clunk of the door handle, then the top of Sniper's head, bereft of the hat as he tackled Assassin against the door. The door half latched again with the impact, and Doc recoiled to the driver's seat. He saw Assassin push off the door and give Sniper a sharp push kick.

Doc let his instincts take over. Things seemed to deafen, time slowed; it seemed like miles to the door. Doc snatched the handle of the door, and threw all his weight against it as he opened it. It slammed open, striking Assassin hard, knocking him forward and away from the camper.

Sniper made better use of the moment, reaching out and grabbing a handful of the black suit and yanking him into a wicked knee. He was sure this time he felt something crack; he definitely heard the breath knocked clean from him. He immediately spun him around and shoved him back down the embankment. As Doc stumbled out of the door, the gunman put himself between them and snatched one of the automatics he'd had nearby and fired a spray towards the quickly recovering Assassin.  

Assassin found his feet quickly and darted for the cover of trees. Sniper didn't need much, he just wanted distance. He needed distance. Not just between himself and Assassin, but an even more distant gulf between Assassin and the Doctor.

"GodDAMN it!!" he snapped, backing up against Doc with his own back, and slammed them against the side of the camper. Didn't care if he startled or hurt him. He needed his new charge's body to be between a hard familiar place and his own body. "ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?!"

He felt Doc shrink against the camper and his back, understanding that he also knew what the aim was.

"I'm sorry," he heard him rasp, feeling his hands ball against his back.

The gunman gave the woods another spray until it ran out of ammunition, then tossed it aside and quickly snatched his rifle, leaving Doc against the camper. Blocking out their panting, trying to focus on Assassin's. Scanning the forest with his enhanced eyes. The darting shadows along the floor, the swaying of the impartial trees above.

Distance. Distance. He needed more distance. He needed Doc out of reach. He lost visual sight on Assassin, which worried him. He could hear him, circling like a predator, quickly.

"Why the fuck's he healing so fucking quick," growled Sniper.

"Surgeon's formula is--"

"SHH." he snapped. He didn't have time for Doc to take his hypotheticals literally, and Doc gulped down the explanation. He backed against him again, sandwiching him against the camper's side, though with much less force. He felt Doc momentarily rest his forehead against his back and he gave him a very quick pat on the leg with his left hand.

"Gonna move to the back," he said. “You get in and stay in.”

“I will.”

They moved slowly, sliding against the side of the camper until they were about to round the corner. Sniper heard it first; the rapid approach across the twigs and dirt, and his body automatically pushed off of Doc and the camper, grabbed his arm and wrenched him away as Assassin closed in and tackled him. Losing the rifle, he grappled for a hold on anything, just to hold onto him, to keep him from getting near Doc. The Doctor stumbled backwards, onto the ground. Sniper finally took hold of a handful of Assassin’s shirt, snaking an arm around his waist and wrestled him down to the ground.

Doc scrambled back.

“Run!” It was like trying to hold onto a snake, only it was Assassin and thus much worse.

An easy command. Except that it wasn’t. 

Doc froze. 

Hesitation. Sniper grit his teeth, feeling a few of his nails bend under the pressure of his grip on the other man. Assassin squirmed to face him then before the gunman could process it, felt a white-hot, searing pain across his neck. A splash of blood burst from his neck and the sudden flash of pain made him release his grip. 

A wicked grin was on Assassin’s face as he drew his knife back then kicked him off. Clutching his neck, Sniper felt the gush of blood from the cut flow through his fingers. The worst part was the sound of his breath gurgling, gasping for air, more than the pain. He collapsed in a small heap, hands on his neck feebly.

A scream died in Doc’s throat as he watched the knife effortlessly slide right through Sniper’s throat, his eyes widening in pain as he clutched at his neck. As soon as he was free, Assassin was upon him, grabbing him by the hair and his right forearm. Slammed him against the side of the camper about as hard as Surgeon had slammed him down on the table.

His eyes were lit with an unnatural and predatory glee. “Did you really think you were going to get away from me, Doctor?” He leaned into him as Doc’s eyes widened. “It’s time to come home.”

Doc whimpered, trying to pull away but Assassin slammed his head harder against the camper. He let out a small cry, and his body finally just shut down, freezing so hard, he couldn’t even tremble. Helplessly, he let Assassin throw him to the ground, and pin him by his wrists. His golden eyes gazed down, a mixture of triumph, satisfaction, and a sickening pleasure. Watching him shake and squirm beneath his grip. Nearly a minute straight, but to Doc it felt like hours.

“Please,” whispered Doc, his eyes threatening to tear up. “Please don’t….”

Assassin sneered and tightened his grip. “I always liked seeing you beg. It’s like seeing him beg.” He then sat up, letting go, but Doc couldn’t find any energy or courage to move, merely shutting his eyes and panting. “You always break so easily.”

The knife was back in his hands, dancing over his fingers. The sound of the hinges petrified Doc as it always had. He squeezed his eyes shut harder, and mouthed another plea.

"When I'm done with you--" but he never got to finish because Sniper put another bullet right where he had been all night, as if one more shot would make a difference.

"When the hell ya gonna learn," snapped Sniper, his voice hard with an equal dose of annoyance and exhaustion. His throat was nearly healed, though his entire neck and chest was bathed in blood. "...not to leave your dumbass dome where I can shoot it...?"

His body collapsed backwards, off of Doc, who let out a single thin whimper of relief. Willing his body to move now that the threat was finally gone, he slowly scrambled back until he reached Sniper, whom reached down and gently helped him back to his feet. A silence filled the cold February air, broken up only by the panting of the gunman and the Doctor. The white-haired man let out another long shaky exhalation, watching the hard, yellow eyes glare down at the finally still corpse. A coldness he had only seen fleetingly in the parking lot. A hardness that belied someone who didn’t let the sanctity of a life stop him from doing what needed to be done. A fury that felt paradoxically white hot and abyssal cold at the same time. The effect was only amplified by the blood down his shirt.

Eyes of a killer. 

Somehow, for the first time, eyes like that didn’t scare Doc. They made him feel somehow protected.

They flicked to look at him. “You ok?”

“Yes. Yes, I think so.” He put a hand to his chest, feeling his heart beginning to finally slow down. “You?”

“Stellar. Now let’s get the fuck out of here before he pops up. Again. I’m tired of wasting bullets on his ass.” He slung the rifle onto his back, located his shotgun, and opened the driver’s side door. Doc rounded to the back and shut the back of the camper, then hopped into the passenger seat. They took another half a minute to compose themselves, thinking of—hoping perhaps—the night as the last link on a long chain of the bad decisions of 20 some years.

Sniper put the guns in the space on the floor between the front seats and fished the keys out of his pocket. He fitted the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life but the gunman paused, staring out at the body intently. As if waiting to see him move. 

"Sniper?" asked Doc, his voice soft with tense anticipation.

"....Kin I run him over?" Sniper asked. He glanced over. It was a darkly humorous question and his eyes pleaded like a child's, asking for a cookie. They almost sparkled. They were completely opposite of the cold eyes just a few minutes ago. “Just like...once or twice...?"

Doc stared at him, and a chuckle flew out of his throat. He clapped a hand over his mouth as his eyes widened in embarrassment. Sniper took that as a tacit endorsement but moved the gear shift to back up, away from Assassin's still--for now--body.

Doc put his hand on Sniper's on the gear shift, his face now solemn and deadpan. Sniper flicked his yellow eyes at him, curiously.

"Once or twice. One for you and one for me."

Sniper grinned and shifted gears. "At yer service, then." He revved the engine again.