The sky was blue and the sun was shining brightly, though all aspects of the good weather didn't fit the Head Doctor's current mood. His arms were crossed and his face was creased into a scowl; his eyes were sharp and although he wore his usual brown suit and tie, both were wrinkled as if he'd slept in them. His hair, usually combed and slicked
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The dear Dr. Doyle was still trying to play nice, trying to seem the good guy in a sea of evil. Landel's face stayed strangely stony, and it was only the huge grudge he held against the man that kept him from being saddened at just how much his old friend had changed.
"Me, too far gone?" He echoed quietly, his words oozing a mix of frustration and hatred. "Who's the one trying to bring down the system here, Alec? Who's the one who gave up on this project, on the very survival of the human race? You know as well as I do that my prisoners are no more like us than the monsters that prowl the halls, the monsters that you helped create."
He stared straight into Doyle's eyes, calm and unflinching.
"You're trying to cut down my pride because pride is something you understand all too well. It's sad that you can't even see the fault in your own ways, that I'm willing to play an evil lunatic to further the rebuilding of our kind and that you'd rather destroy everything by indulging in your heroic charade. And besides..."
Landel smirked in a way that seemed far off-key in comparison to his previous words. He raised a hand and put it on Alec's shoulder, gripping it tightly, painfully.
"I know why you're truly out to get me, and it's not a reason so noble as you'd like to pretend."
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"That might have been the spark that lit the fuse, but there's a powder keg of reasons I'm doing this. And I came here today because I wanted to believe you'd see reason. We were friends, Martin. Hell, we were more than friends, we were..."
God above, was he really so weak? A night ago, he was ready to tear the man apart with his bare hands. And yet here he was, offered his chance, and what did he do? He whined and moaned and dredged up a past that was dead and buried. A past he'd thought he'd put to rest long ago.
"This has nothing to do with pride, either. Other than the fact that yours has blinded you. This isn't the way. Martin, our time has come, wake up and accept it! Mankind has lived too long tugging at the coattails of gods. We are a humble race, and we have to remember that. I remembered that. We were never right, and if you won't remember...." He reached up, wrapping his fingers around the wrist of the hand that gripped his shoulder. He met his old friend's eyes, his own expression closing, drawing in on itself with a last fleeting flash of sorrow.
"I'm going to kill you, Martin. And I'm more sorry than I think you can understand."
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He kept on speaking and Landel kept on listening, his anger mounting and his disgust showing through on his features. How dare Alec play the good man, how dare he take the higher moral ground even now? He was the one who had sabotaged what they had worked for their whole lives to accomplish, what they'd both poured their souls into and what they had sought to make a reality.
And then, he said he'd kill him.
Landel looked away and then back to his old friend. His eyes were weirdly calm as he brought up his free hand and put it on Alec's other shoulder. He smiled sadly.
"If you kill me," he said, "you'll be killing all of us."
And then he pulled the other man into the kind of brotherly embrace that only best friends could share.
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This was why he'd held off so long. This was why he had never faced Martin before without their walls and veils and protection between them. He leaned into the embrace, closing his eyes and feeling a swell of old emotions rising up within him.
"Maybe we all deserve it." And maybe they did. He and Martin, at least. They were the ones with blood on their hands. Both of them, as guilty as the other. But Jack, he wanted to make up for what he'd done. And maybe, somewhere inside, Martin did to.
But he'd come here for a reason. To end this, one way or another. To finally lay to rest this twisted mess they'd made. He was tired of fighting and struggling and the thoughts that stole his sleep. He'd be merciful - out of affection and times long past, it was the least he could do.
He rested his head on Martin's shoulder, taking a deep breath to steady himself.
"I am sorry. I really am."
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"I'm sorry too, Alec," he murmured in little more than a whisper as one of his arms dropped and crept to his inner jacket pocket. "So very... very sorry."
His fist clenched at the fabric on Alec's back. Sunlight glinted off a sliver of metal for a split second before the Head Doctor's hand jerked forward and twisted, burying the blade in the other man's chest.
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Fuck.
It was amazing, how many thoughts were able to pass through his mind. His childhood, as ridiculous and cliche as it was. Before everything had changed and everything had gone to hell. His days working on his own, before he'd ever heard of Martin Landel or his revolutionary project. And the early days with Martin, the long days and the longer nights, falling asleep in his office, bright eyed and eager and so desperate for praise and attention from this man who had meant so much to him....
All of that flashed in an instant as he felt the pain bursting in his chest and the sticky heat of blood down his front.
"You....bastard..." he managed, feeling the blood welling in his lungs. Idiot, idiot, fucking idiot! Why had he trusted? Why had he let Martin get so close? He staggered, falling backwards, the blood pouring from his chest, feeling the hard cement of the roof coming up to meet him. He hardly even felt it when he hit.
He'd just lost everything. They'd been right. They couldn't trust him. He'd just ruined any chance they had of ever escaping alive.
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It was all for this, the satisfaction of betraying his old partner in the same way he'd betrayed him, to hurt him as deeply and viscerally as he had been so long ago.
Dr. Landel let go of the hilt of the dagger as Alec fell, and he slowly walked forward, seemingly unfazed by the blood covering his own chest and hands. His face was calm, his expression strangely blank. He stood over Alec, watching him cough and gasp for breath the way a scientist examines the death throes of an insignificant lab rat.
"I'm truly sorry, Alec, that I feel nothing now but contempt." His eyes narrowed. "Nothing but righteousness and justice. Nothing but the knowledge that what I am doing is necessary and that what you are doing is wrong. You betrayed science and your species. You betrayed me."
He looked his dying opponent in the eye.
"And now you will pay for your arrogance."
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But he opened his eyes, meeting Martin's with a cold, angry focus. He wasn't dead yet. Oh, he was nearly there, and he knew it; even he wasn't so foolish to think he could heal here and now. And he'd ensured that, hadn't he? By weakening Martin, he'd weakened himself, and sealed his own fate. But he wasn't dead yet.
"You...forgot one thing...Martin..." he was struggling to speak, blood filling his lungs and throat and mouth as his heart tried desperately to keep him among the living.
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There should have been clouds. Storm clouds and thunder above, not that picture perfect blue sky that now seemed to mock him. This wasn't fitting. This wasn't right. It wasn't...poetic.
But that didn't mean he wouldn't give it a properly poetic twist.
He smiled, blood stained lips curving up as he flexed his weak fingers, laughing in Martin's face in the deafening silence of his own mind.
"You forgot...that I never...give up!"
It took all his remaining strength to make his body cooperate. His arm came up, quickly, feeling as though he were moving through water. His cigarette was clenched tightly between his fingers and with a wet, rattling exhalation he plunged the burning tip into Martin's eye with all the force he had left in him.
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"YOU...!" He growled out through his agony, one hand held over his injured eye as the other glared murder at Doyle. He crawled forward, barely thinking, barely rationalizing his actions as he leaned over the other man, his hand groping for the slick hilt of the dagger in Alec's chest.
"I'll kill you... kill you!" The Head Doctor's face contorted into a strange mix of a grimace and an unhinged grin as he pulled out the dagger and began to stab over and over again. "You think you can win, but you can't! I'm coming on on top, Alec! ME! Don't you GET IT?"
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Jack tried to laugh, but all that came was a wet sound. He hardly even felt the knife leave his skin or enter it again. His thoughts were fading, ludicrous even, as a strange warmth came over him. What would happen to the masses he'd promised to lead? What would happen to his carefully crafted plans? Who would feed Sam?
For a final time, Jack's mouth opened, words struggling to escape. Some final witty quip, some set of last words for the history book, fitting of the man who boasted of his wordplay and poetry.
But none came. A final trickle of blood slid out from between his slack lips and the blackness that lingered at the edges of his mind flooded in until there was nothing but dark.
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It was over.
Dr. Landel slowly sat back in the growing pool of blood that surrounded them. His whole front was drenched red, and as the adrenaline wore off and the pain from his injury came back in full force, he tossed the dagger away and held his hands to his eye.
It was over and there had been a price to pay, but it had been worth it in the end. Of course, the Head Doctor could get his eye fixed if he wanted to; with all the miracles that were performed at the Institute on a daily basis, such a simple procedure was certainly within their means.
For some reason, however, Dr. Landel wasn't sure if he wanted to. He needed this as a reminder of what foolishness could do to a man, what complacency could could cost even when one had a suitable safety net.
There was another reason that came to mind as he viewed the still body, but he wouldn't admit it even to himself.
"Dr. Landel," a voice crackled over the two-way radio at his side. The Head Doctor frowned and fiddled with the device's holster, finally bringing it up and staring blankly at it for a moment with his good eye. "Dr. Landel, what's the situation?"
"The situation..." the Head Doctor said after clicking down the talk button, glancing at Alec's unmoving form once more, "...the situation is under control. I'll need a clean-up crew on the West end of the roof and my quarters undisturbed. That's all."
After a confirmation, Dr. Landel stood up staring first at what he had done and then at the expanse of land in the valley in front of them. It truly was a beautiful day, and the Head Doctor could only marvel in awe at how much more he could accomplish now that something quite important had been crossed off his to-do list.
He smiled.
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