(Untitled)
Who: Dexter Morgan, Brian Moser, Jezebel Desraeli
When: Port! You know that hour they have before they're supposed to come back...yup.
Where: A little outside the compound
( Dexter's knuckles were white on the wheel... )
When: Port! You know that hour they have before they're supposed to come back...yup.
Where: A little outside the compound
( Dexter's knuckles were white on the wheel... )
He took a deep breath. The nervous energy built up in his muscles began to subside, starting to curl down inside him to a state of vigilant alert. Finally, they were close to a kill, close enough that the irrepressible bloodlust had started to subside, leaving Brian with calmer nerves. Though he still held a tingling sense of apprehension in the pit of his stomach, he was no longer filled entirely by futile stressful tension. He felt the beginnings of darting watchfulness that Brian thought would only help him in this alien situation. They had a plan, they had opportunity, and they had equipment. Now they just needed the place, and the victim.
The dark armor Brian wore felt strange, but reassuring; he had never worn armor before, the closest he’d got to armor had been thick black rubber gloves. The knives sheathed at his legs and on his belt felt much more natural; one short, sharp knife, razor-sharp and two long vicious blades. Despite these knives, carrying a gun was strangely comforting; he caught himself unconsciously tightening and releasing his hold on the flamethrower’s grips, checking to make sure the fuel refill was still clipped to his belt. “Okay,” Brian found himself lowering his voice, keeping quiet, not attracting attention. He felt the uncomfortable feeling of being watched, and a small growl escaped him. Annoyed with himself, he gritted his teeth hard, jaw muscles tensing. “Looks as good as any,” he conceded softly in reply to Dexter’s question. “Let’s go.”
All his muscles tensed involuntarily as he swung open the door, his whole body instinctively prepared to slam himself back into the vehicle as quickly as it might be needed, but the step into the cold air was anti-climactic. Nothing moved, except the fog. Brian had a weird urge to laugh, which he angrily subdued. He glanced over at Dexter, also exiting the vehicle. With one more deep breath, which sucked cold foreign air into his lungs, Brian closed the door with a clash of metal on metal that sounded much louder - and more final - than he thought it should have been.
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He could feel it as much as Brian, the same feeling at the pit of his stomach, the build up before the kill. He felt slightly irritated that something had to interfere with enjoying it.
Dexter flicked on the little light mounted on his shoulder, and another beam of muddy yellow light struck out into the foggy darkness. Hands ready to dart for his weapons if need be, Dexter began to creep forward silently over the rocky terrain. Hr glanced to Brian every few moments, making sure he didn't wonder to far from his brother's side.
"How about... something like this?" Dexter called, waving Brian over. There was a spot where a huge, flat expanse of rock cut up from the ground an a strange angle, creating a fair sized 'corner' with a another slab of rock at it's side. "I hate to settle for something so mundane, but it doesn't look like we're getting much of a choice..." Still moving slowly, carefully, Dexter stepped inside the fair sized space, running his gloved hand over one of the makeshift "walls". "We could dress it up," he said, one corner of his mouth twitching into a small half-smirk.
Though suddenly, Dexter froze, eyes bright and alert. He held a hand up in warning for Brian to remain still, the going -of course- to the handle of one of the knives strapped to his side. "... Do you hear that?" it was a strange, soft insect like clicking.
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The space was much more open than Brian would have liked, but Dexter was right: there was not a lot of choice. He took a perfunctory look around the outside of the structure, quickly returning to his brother. The “walls” would hide their work from a number of sides, and they could cover the largest opening with dark plastic. It would have to do. “We haven’t got time to be choosy,” Brian nodded at Dexter. “It’s the best we’re going to find.” And I don’t want to spend more time out here than we have to… he added silently. Brian crossed the floor of the space, moving beside Dexter, and was reaching for the bag containing their supplies when Dexter held his hand up.
Brian froze, the sudden rush of adrenaline making his heart pound; he listened hard, concentrating on every tiny sound. He slid his fingers soundlessly to the handle of one of his large knives. The noise was soft, but it made Brian’s skin crawl. What sort of insects would be out here? “Yeah,” he breathed, “I hear it.” The noise continued, the same soft volume, and after another minute, Brian murmured nearly silently, “What do you think it is?”
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He wound one hand tightly around Brian's wrist, pushing, also backing up so he was close enough to Brian to make his brother step back as well (unless he wanted his feet stepped on, that is). Dexter's back was to Brian, his eyes still peering into the dark little space of the semi-room. Suddenly his heel hit something and he stumbled, only his grip on Brian keeping him up. He looked down, expecting to see rocks-- but they were... eggs.
They were eggs, and one was cracking.
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Dexter’s steady retreat forced Brian backwards; his brother’s hand gripping his wrist firmly. He was glad of it. The rocky walls - intended to be a hideout, a safe haven for them to satisfy their bloodlust - now felt like a prison, a trap. Dexter tripped and Brian caught him with a little grunt of effort. There was a small sound, different from the insect sounds from before, a wet swishing sound and a splitting sound, something opening. Brian looked down to where the sound was coming from.
“Eggs?” he muttered, confused. The egg Dexter had stumbled against was softly glowing, some light source inside it illuminating the moving thing inside it. The motion inside it was fluid, long spindly limbs fluttering, shivering. The egg was heaving at the top, the thing inside straining against an ‘X’ shape etched in the top, pushing it up slightly then settling back down. It had nearly broken through and Brian moved to get away from it, his turn to push Dexter back, when the top split open completely, clear glistening slime hanging in strands between the triangles of shell that had formed the “X”.
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It was one part fascinating, and five parts horrible. That the hell was this thing? He felt frozen to the spot, limbs refusing to move, until Brian began to push. The sensation seemed to jump start his brain; that, and the single long spider-like leg he saw stretch from the cracked, smiley remains of the egg.
He went for the flamethrower. A corrosive heat ripped through the air as he fired, lighting up for a few horrible moments, a few dozen dormant eggs. The insect-like clicking grew to an ear-spitting shriek and there was a blur of motion-- and the whatever the hell it was vanished above. There was dark sky broken by tall jagged spikes of rock, and Dexter could hear it moving, scratching against the stone.
"Move," he urged Brian quietly, backing up himself, finger still on the trigger of his weapon. For a small, minute moment he glanced back, for no other reason then to see Brian's face-- to make sure he was okay.
What was that rule about getting emotionally involved?
There was a blur of motion and Dexter felt the ground move under him... but it hadn't, he had only fell. His skull smashed hard against a rock and damn, it knocked the wind out of him; he's just been recovering from another concussion after all...
But that was hardly what occupied his thoughts; more accurately, it was the long still-wet tail coiling around his throat, and the spiny-spider-like fingers coiling around the back of his head. His hands were up instantly in attempted to pull the disgusting monster off, but there were only a few second of struggle-- it had knocked him over after all, the fall plaguing him with awful dizziness.
At the moment the creature breached the final distance, Dexter's hands went slack, falling limp at his sides.
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Brian frantically pulled a knife from his belt, crouched, knife up, intending to cut the thing off. He grabbed at it, shuddering at the feel of clammy flesh under his fingers. The monster’s tail tightened fast around Dexter’s throat, cutting into his skin, and Brian pulled his hand back. The tail relaxed its stranglehold.
“Shit, shit…” Brian’s muttered, his voice shaking with panic. Clearly, if he tried to detach this thing, it would hurt his little brother, maybe kill him. Brian took a deep breath and shined the light over Dexter. He was still breathing, just unconscious; the thing wasn’t suffocating him.
Brian just wanted to get out of the rocks, away from the other eggs, off this whole planet. He grabbed Dexter, dragging him back towards the vehicle. He watched to make sure the creature wasn’t moving, wasn’t doing anything that could hurt Dexter. What could he do? They made it back to the vehicle and Brian laid Dexter down.
He needed help. Who could he call? They were away from where they should be with no good excuse. It would have to be an Inmate. What was that doctor he’d spoken to? Dr. Desraeli? He’d have to do. Brian fumbled for his journal and wrote in it quickly, trying to watch Dexter and the surrounding environment at the same time.
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Soon enough, the headlights revealed the hulking shape of another vehicle. Jezebel smiled, a crooked, wolfish expression, and climbed out. A black leather bag was strung over his shoulder, filled with the medical tools he had brought from home. He did his best to quell his excitement of what was to come or at least, not let it show on his face. His long silver ponytail bounced back and forth as he approached, the dim light catching on the panes of his glasses, making them opaque, like mirrors.
As he approached, his grip on the shoulder strap tightened; he could already see a form sprawled still on the ground... and a beautiful glistening little creature clinging to its face.
"Oh my..." he breathed.
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As the man approached, Brian stepped forward from where he stood waiting by the brothers' vehicle. "Thank you for coming," Brian murmured, the thanks tasting strange in his mouth. "This thing- I tried to get it off, but it has its tail around his throat. It was close to strangling him." His voice was shaky and full of concern. "I don't know what to do..."
Brian looked at the doctor - hopefully? - wondering if he had called the right person.
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Jezebel stepped aside and let Brian place Dexter down, his eyes lighting in a strange twisted delight as he saw more clearly the little creature latched onto Dexter's face. He didn't think, only leaned forward, climbing into the back cargo area, and running his gloved fingers down the creature's bony spine. It gave a few insect-like clicks, the tip of it's tail swaying.
"Hello there, little beauty..." Jezebel murmured softly, before sitting back, and beginning to paw through his bag.
"You called the right person; I've got extensive knowledge on parasitic creatures," he said, again picking up his professional voice. "The reason this little lovely is so reluctant to let go --I would guess, based on previous experience-- is that she is trusting your warden with something... very special," Jezebel could not get that wide, unbalanced smile off his face.
He too had brought a shoulder-light, and flicked it on. It caught the light of his small, sinister looking scalpel; the blade was shaped like a tear drop. "So... we shall wait. She'll get off of him in a moment or two..." he frowned, "and probably die. That's when we shall begin..." Jezebel's eyes lit with a realization all the sudden and he asked with an odd crooked smile "I don't suppose you have any tranquillizers, do you?" he didn't really expect a positive answer.
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The space in the back of the truck was cramped, but Brian sunk down onto his haunches in a corner, watching Dr. Desraeli examine the parasite, watching to make sure Dexter was still breathing. Trusting? Brian thought as the English man spoke. “What is it…trusting him with?” he asked quietly, looking sharply at the doctor from under lowered eyebrows.
Brian looked at the light glinting off the blade, and somewhere in the back of his mind, the hunger stirred; a tiny hint of a sneer twisted one side of his mouth. This whole thing had derailed their work and Brian fleetingly thought of Crane, still free, still alive. He nearly growled, only half listening to what the doctor was saying, eyes fixed on the sharp blade. A few words penetrated, “Tranquilisers?” Brian was torn between denying it to avoid suspicion and questions, but Dexter was more important. “Let me…check.” He got the black bag Dexter had been carrying from where it had fallen by the vehicle and brought it back to Desraeli’s truck. He made a show of fumbling through it. “Yes, there are some here.”
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Then, as if right on cue, the creature began to uncoil it's long spidery legs. It crawled off of Dexter, managing to get only a few small steps away before it curled up and died, right at 'the good doctor's' side. Jezebel smiled, giving it's smiley belly an affectionate stroke, before his attention suddenly shifted focus; Dexter's eyes fluttered.
"Ah-ah-ah," He said, slipping the needle into Dexter's neck with expert poise and precision. Once again, Dexter was out like a light. Jezebel only smirked, aware he had not yet answered Brian's question. He sat back, pulling a small bottle of rubbing alcohol from his own bag, and beginning to clean his scalpel.
"You shall see," he said in a cryptic voice, that crooked grin still lingering on his lips. "Now... undress him from the waist up, if you please."
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Brian looked angrily at Jezebel - Dexter had been waking up, the creature was off, why did he need to be knocked out? - but he saw the scalpel again and bit his tongue. Obviously the doctor thought it would be necessary to operate. Something inside him? Brian thought vaguely, as light flashed on the blade once more.
He shook his head slightly to clear it, and nodded at the doctor’s instruction. Brian remembered the sound of Dexter’s head hitting the rock and with deft fingers - he had worked as a doctor after all, it was just alien creatures that were entirely beyond his realm of experience - he felt the back of his brother’s skull for fracture. “He hit the ground pretty hard,” Brian said by way of explanation to Jezebel, satisfied that there were no obvious breaks, probably just bruising and a concussion. Then, awkwardly, he pulled Dexter’s armor and coat off, and his shirt, exposing his skin to the cool air. There was a red mark around his neck. Brian moved back and nodded to Jezebel, placing Dexter’s shoulder light so that it shined on the makeshift workspace.
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"Then after this, you'll have to keep him awake; let him sleep for no more then two hours at a time, and do not allow him any hot or cold foods or fluids; he's already had a concussion this week, so some extra caution is called for..." Jezebel placed a single gloved finger at the base of Dexter's throat and traced down along the skin, where he planned to cut. He did a few quick preparation chores; laid out the tools he thought he could need on a cloth beside him, changed his gloves, and strapped on a surgical mask.
He seemed to be restraining a maniac smile. There was no time to be slow, to pretend he didn't enjoy it; Jezebel brought the scalpel down and sliced. Clearly he as an expert, a madman, or both; there was no hesitation in his movement and the cut was deep, parting much more then superficial skin. Jezebel knew he'd have to work fast; if Dexter was left open too long, he could bleed to death.
But there was one little detail causing him to wish to take his time... Dexter's eyes were beginning to flutter the slightest bit.
"About your question, Brian... somewhere inside, this lovely warm mess... I believe we're looking for this creatures precious child."
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As the scalpel bit into Dexter’s flesh, Brian frowned, hissing in sympathy - this could end up badly. He hoped Jezebel was as good as his confidence suggested. As the blood began to flow, slower than it might have due to the cold air, Brian bit his lip and found a handful of gauze, intending to staunch the liquid; the blood seeped fast into the threads of the material, soaking up far enough that his skin was touching it. He bit his lip hard. Blood. There was so much of it. It was warm, and the air filled with its iron tang.
As the doctor spoke, Brian saw the inside of Dexter’s chest steaming in the cold. Blood on his hands. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, wooden and disbelieving. “Child?”
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He couldn't help but smirk at Brian's question; his shaken tone of voice. "Yes, child. It's a common trait in parasitic creatures to implant young in other living creatures..." Jezebel carefully widened and deepened the wound, little by little, blood creeping up the slick white of his latex gloves. He was shivering slightly; the air was so cold, but the blood, the body was so warm. A vicious need flashed across Jezebel's eyes, the need for more.
Suddenly, something shiny and black emerged between the wet steaming flesh. "Here we go..." Jezebel whispered, reaching down and stroking it with the pad of his finger. The little creature promptly lifted its head, and sank its teeth into the flesh of Jezebel's palm. He hissed in obvious, terrible pain. But he managed to hold still for a moment or two.
His eyes were bright with eerie delight.
"Come here little darling..." he murmured, pulling the creature up as it remained clamped and chewing onto his hand.
Dexter's eyes fluttered, threatening to open. His head turned to the side, his breath quickening before he let out a soft, pained groan.
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