Warden frowned down at Assassin’s very slowly healing body. The tire tracks over him were unusual, but he figured in the same situation, he’d have done the same. He stood back up as Surgeon walked towards him, glaring down where the tracks led away, hands behind his back.

They stared for a minute or so, contemplating, down the small path out of the woods. Warden turned his attention to the dozen or so men lying dead around the embankment. He was suitably impressed inwardly. But it also stung. 

He honestly didn’t think that gunman had it in him.

Surgeon’s orange eyes glowed faintly in the dark. The worst of the paralytic was gone, leaving only the barest of numbness in his finger tips and the soles of his feet. It had taken a considerable amount of fortitude and will to have even overcome it so quickly. It wasn’t the first time he’d sampled one of Assassin’s paralytics. It was, admittedly, the second time, and it was only the sheer volume the Doctor had administered in his pathetic desperation that hindered him earlier. 

Even with his superior healing capabilities, the dosage was staggering and could have killed a mere mortal. Thankfully, Surgeon was neither mere, nor a mortal. Not by any stretch of the imagination.

Perhaps he would need to pare back Assassin’s access to certain poisons and chemicals in the near future, however.

“Are you expecting an apology?” asked the Warden, his voice in his usual uninterested tone. 

He was silent for a minute before he turned to look at him with a sidelong glance. “Are you offering one?”

Warden stared at the dead bodies and remembered the ambush in the bedroom. He shrugged. “Not really, no.”

“That’s that then. I’ll take an explanation, however.” Surgeon faced him. It held a mildly curious look. “It’s not like you to be so careless.”

“He was under the bed.”

Surgeon took that in and shrugged. “Hm. Interesting. Fair enough.” He knelt to Assassin’s still body and put a hand to his forehead. He blankly started healing him a bit before standing to let the body take over.

“If anything, the apology I want comes from him.” His orange eyes coldly watched as the wound knit itself closed. A moment later, a rattling gasp came from Assassin before his body jerked to life. As his golden eyes snapped open, Surgeon’s foot came down onto his chest. A crushing force as the asian man let out a strangled cry.

“I’m very disappointed in you, Assassin,” growled Surgeon, leaning into it. 

He let out another cry of pain but it was colored by rage as well. After a minute, he let the man in the black suit up, stepping back, hands folded behind him. As Assassin rubbed his chest, he bitterly snapped back, “You try taking three headshots in a row.”

“I have. Don’t be such a baby. I didn’t top you up on the latest formula for you to be useless against one lone gunman.”

“Maybe you shoulda given me that new stuff instead of to that useless piece of shit.”

“That useless piece of shit just made off with the Doctor,” sneered Surgeon, exhaling in disgust. “And you let that happen.”

“I’m not the only one who failed you tonight!” retorted Assassin, glaring at Warden.

The older man folded his arms across his chest and rolled his eyes but didn’t respond to him. He simply turned his attention to Surgeon. “Well?”

“I can find them,” snarled Assassin. He turned for the trail and clenched his fist. “I can make this right.” 

The last moment before he’d taken that headshot was that delicious look of helplessness in the Doctor’s eyes, but even now, he couldn’t enjoy it. Not when he’d finally slipped out of his grasp for the first time since he’d come to the Mansion. And now…he didn’t have the Doctor there to play proxy to Surgeon, especially when he knew that the storm of punishment was looming over his head.

Assassin was furious. Blindly, hungrily, desperately furious.

But Surgeon didn’t care.

“Let them go.” Surgeon’s voice was low as he stared into the distance. “Let him run. Let him find some corner of this world to hide. We have all the time in the world. We’ll find them both. So let him wait. A few weeks. A few months. A year? It makes no difference. Just long enough. To think he’s finally safe. To drop his guard, like he always does. To let his guardian think he’s won. For them both to be tired and comfortable enough to make a mistake. He always does.”

The orange eyes took on an inward look, the corners of his mouth curling ever so slightly. “And when he does, I will bring them both home. I have all the time in the world…and he is borrowing his from me.”

He turned sharply, back towards the mansion, hands clasped behind his back. Passed both Assassin and Warden. 

“Come.”

The Warden knew better than to disagree, and to be fair, he wasn’t anxious to start a pursuit now.

Assassin was a different story, yet he also knew better than to be disobedient. Especially now. He glared at the stars above him, digging his nails into his palms until he felt blood.

He was going to find them both. And when he did, nothing on God’s green earth was going to stop him from smearing them thin into pulp. Not even his desire to take the Doctor back completely.

Surgeon’s voice broke his reverie. “In the meantime. I have work to do. And I need more candidates.”