(no subject)
[Locked scene post]
This is John Murdoch not taking this shit any more. Just not.
He's going back to the Weird Place now, even if it is full of talking animals and crazies and that one guy who's obsessed with chains. He's going back there, and he is finding Schreber, and he is making that damn doctor pay for what he's done. For what he's trying to do again.
This is John Murdoch storming down Main Street at five AM, past all the blank locked-up storefronts just barely beginning to gleam in the dawn light. This is John Murdoch screaming up to the sky he helped create.
"I almost trusted you!" he bellows, not caring whether anyone'll hear him or not. "You bastard!" A pause for breath, and then: "You think they'd even listen to you, Doctor? They're gonna kill you, y'know! No more chances for Dr. Schreber!" And another deep breath. "With a bit of luck, I'll never even see you again!"
There's an explosion far behind him, and then a small tinkling noise like chimes. Then another explosion. Chimes. A bit closer, this time.
John spins around, breathing heavily, and watches as the next store window swells outward like a balloon, then bursts, showering glass all over the sidewalk-- and then the next window, and the next, and the next. The city's machinery simply wasn't built to absorb this much rage.
It was built so we could be Schreber's lab rats, John thinks spitefully,
He turns on his heel and runs, still cursing Schreber under his breath, and all the windows blow out as he passes by.
-----
As it turns out, there's no need to risk the nuthouse; as John rounds the last corner into the alley, Schreber is coming into it from the other side, closing the green door quietly behind him. He limps one step, then another, and only then does he look up and realize that he's not alone. "John--" he begins, and then pauses, smiling uncertainly.
It's the smile that does it. "You--" John splutters for a second and then bursts out, "You fucking rat! How stupid d'you think I am?"
"John--" Schreber says again, advancing another step. He's wearing a confused expression, but behind the glasses his eyes are like a hunted animal's. "John, I-- don't understand--"
Watching Schreber's eyes, John notices for the first time that there's a long strip of bloodstained gauze taped to the doctor's cheek and a thick cast on one wrist. The fresh injuries make Schreber look that much more ominous. Like that little hunchback, in that monster movie that used to be showing at Anna's theater--
Whatever the Strangers did to Schreber this time, John hopes it hurt like hell. As a matter of fact, he hopes it still does.
"Good," he says, and grins in satisfaction. "I was right, wasn't I? They wouldn't listen. They kicked you around and then sent you away more pathetic then ever. Well, guess what, Doctor, you're gonna have to find a different set of brains to fuck with. You can't have these any more."
"I don't follow," Schreber says, and then bam, John can see it hit him. "John, you don't-- understand," he says, quieter, desperately, "that's not-- it at all, I didn't-- do you honestly think-- I would do-- that?"
Come to think of it, maybe the guy had the right idea.
"Shut up, Doctor," John snaps, and just like that Schreber's pinned against the wall, wrists and ankles manacled in place. Best way to know where the man is? Absolutely.
The doctor is starting to gasp for breath now, his words coming out as small sobs. "John-- I wouldn't go-- near them ever-- again-- you know that--"
Schreber's never been a very good liar.
"The hell I do." John takes a few steps closer in so he's staring right into Schreber's face. "Someone told me what you've been doing. Someone in there." He jerks his head towards the green door for emphasis. "And, y'know, under the circumstances I'm a hell of a lot more inclined to believe him than you."
"This is insane," Schreber rasps. "You're totally-- wrong. I was trying-- to get away. Get out." He sounds oddly resigned. "I knew this-- would happen."
"Fine." John steps back, makes a dismissive gesture, and the chains vanish.
Schreber collapses to the ground in a weak little bundle, coughing and gasping for breath, and his glasses fall off. John knows what he's doing, now, so he gives the doctor a minute to find his glasses, get them back on, and somehow make it back upright. It looks like a painful and difficult process, which makes John obscurely happy.
When he's sure he's got Schreber's attention again, John smiles grimly. "Get out, Doctor."
Schreber looks around and laughs nervously. "Out of-- what, John?"
"Here. My city." John takes another step towards him. A couple of bricks fall down nearby and shatter on the pavement, but John barely registers them. "You're not wanted here, Schreber. Get out of the city. Now." He points firmly towards the green door. "And don't come back. I'll know."
Schreber stares at him for a full minute, emotions flitting across his face nearly to quickly to read. Sadness, defeat, relief, even anger, in the blink of an eye, and then Schreber is-- for once-- unreadable.
John wags his finger at the door once more. If necessary, he can always open it and throw Schreber through.
The doctor turns without a word and slowly, too slowly for John's taste, limps back through the door and closes it behind him.
When Schreber's gone, John gets rid of the door entirely. It's unusually difficult, but he concentrates, and finally there's only blank wall there. Just like there ought to be.
Then he walks home, humming cheerfully. His shoes crunch along a streetful of shattered glass, and as he passes by the shards fly up behind him, settling back into their windowframes and healing back together. In the red light of sunrise, it looks a bit like fireworks.
This is John Murdoch not taking this shit any more. Just not.
He's going back to the Weird Place now, even if it is full of talking animals and crazies and that one guy who's obsessed with chains. He's going back there, and he is finding Schreber, and he is making that damn doctor pay for what he's done. For what he's trying to do again.
This is John Murdoch storming down Main Street at five AM, past all the blank locked-up storefronts just barely beginning to gleam in the dawn light. This is John Murdoch screaming up to the sky he helped create.
"I almost trusted you!" he bellows, not caring whether anyone'll hear him or not. "You bastard!" A pause for breath, and then: "You think they'd even listen to you, Doctor? They're gonna kill you, y'know! No more chances for Dr. Schreber!" And another deep breath. "With a bit of luck, I'll never even see you again!"
There's an explosion far behind him, and then a small tinkling noise like chimes. Then another explosion. Chimes. A bit closer, this time.
John spins around, breathing heavily, and watches as the next store window swells outward like a balloon, then bursts, showering glass all over the sidewalk-- and then the next window, and the next, and the next. The city's machinery simply wasn't built to absorb this much rage.
It was built so we could be Schreber's lab rats, John thinks spitefully,
He turns on his heel and runs, still cursing Schreber under his breath, and all the windows blow out as he passes by.
-----
As it turns out, there's no need to risk the nuthouse; as John rounds the last corner into the alley, Schreber is coming into it from the other side, closing the green door quietly behind him. He limps one step, then another, and only then does he look up and realize that he's not alone. "John--" he begins, and then pauses, smiling uncertainly.
It's the smile that does it. "You--" John splutters for a second and then bursts out, "You fucking rat! How stupid d'you think I am?"
"John--" Schreber says again, advancing another step. He's wearing a confused expression, but behind the glasses his eyes are like a hunted animal's. "John, I-- don't understand--"
Watching Schreber's eyes, John notices for the first time that there's a long strip of bloodstained gauze taped to the doctor's cheek and a thick cast on one wrist. The fresh injuries make Schreber look that much more ominous. Like that little hunchback, in that monster movie that used to be showing at Anna's theater--
Whatever the Strangers did to Schreber this time, John hopes it hurt like hell. As a matter of fact, he hopes it still does.
"Good," he says, and grins in satisfaction. "I was right, wasn't I? They wouldn't listen. They kicked you around and then sent you away more pathetic then ever. Well, guess what, Doctor, you're gonna have to find a different set of brains to fuck with. You can't have these any more."
"I don't follow," Schreber says, and then bam, John can see it hit him. "John, you don't-- understand," he says, quieter, desperately, "that's not-- it at all, I didn't-- do you honestly think-- I would do-- that?"
Come to think of it, maybe the guy had the right idea.
"Shut up, Doctor," John snaps, and just like that Schreber's pinned against the wall, wrists and ankles manacled in place. Best way to know where the man is? Absolutely.
The doctor is starting to gasp for breath now, his words coming out as small sobs. "John-- I wouldn't go-- near them ever-- again-- you know that--"
Schreber's never been a very good liar.
"The hell I do." John takes a few steps closer in so he's staring right into Schreber's face. "Someone told me what you've been doing. Someone in there." He jerks his head towards the green door for emphasis. "And, y'know, under the circumstances I'm a hell of a lot more inclined to believe him than you."
"This is insane," Schreber rasps. "You're totally-- wrong. I was trying-- to get away. Get out." He sounds oddly resigned. "I knew this-- would happen."
"Fine." John steps back, makes a dismissive gesture, and the chains vanish.
Schreber collapses to the ground in a weak little bundle, coughing and gasping for breath, and his glasses fall off. John knows what he's doing, now, so he gives the doctor a minute to find his glasses, get them back on, and somehow make it back upright. It looks like a painful and difficult process, which makes John obscurely happy.
When he's sure he's got Schreber's attention again, John smiles grimly. "Get out, Doctor."
Schreber looks around and laughs nervously. "Out of-- what, John?"
"Here. My city." John takes another step towards him. A couple of bricks fall down nearby and shatter on the pavement, but John barely registers them. "You're not wanted here, Schreber. Get out of the city. Now." He points firmly towards the green door. "And don't come back. I'll know."
Schreber stares at him for a full minute, emotions flitting across his face nearly to quickly to read. Sadness, defeat, relief, even anger, in the blink of an eye, and then Schreber is-- for once-- unreadable.
John wags his finger at the door once more. If necessary, he can always open it and throw Schreber through.
The doctor turns without a word and slowly, too slowly for John's taste, limps back through the door and closes it behind him.
When Schreber's gone, John gets rid of the door entirely. It's unusually difficult, but he concentrates, and finally there's only blank wall there. Just like there ought to be.
Then he walks home, humming cheerfully. His shoes crunch along a streetful of shattered glass, and as he passes by the shards fly up behind him, settling back into their windowframes and healing back together. In the red light of sunrise, it looks a bit like fireworks.