Subject: [OTL]: HellsX 32 Date: Sun, 25 Jul 2004 05:10:36 -0700 (PDT) From: D Benway HellsX [32:45] In the Elevator Produced by Benway. See notes for details. _______________________________________________________________________________ "You had dinner with the Professor last night," said McCoy. "Yes," said Summers. "I wasn't busy last night," said McCoy. "Thought you were," said Summers. "It left me thinking, about what we swore in front of the King Monument, that night in-" said McCoy. "Shut it," said Summers. "All for one, and one for all," said McCoy. Summers said nothing. Kitty could feel his heart forcing the blood through constricted blood vessels. His blood pressure was so high that the scent of it was almost choking. "It's been over three months since I've had dinner with either of you," said McCoy. "Things have been busy," said Summers. "You have been asking me to do a great deal," said McCoy. "Yes," said Summers. "And I've done those things," said McCoy. "Things I would not have contemplated doing five years ago." "Yes," said Summers. "And now you leave me alone," said McCoy. "I've done nothing worse than you have, and you can't seem to bring yourself to look at me." Summers turned his head away and spat into the corner of the elevator. There was a tinge of red to it, and Kitty had to fight the urge to lick it off the floor in front of them. "I know that you're a reasonable man," said McCoy. "You should read that essay by Dershowitz. It explains why all this is necessary." The doors opened. McCoy and Summers exited. She remained. The doors failed to close. "Come and see," said Summers. Kitty followed them into a part of the complex she'd never seen before. It looked like a hospital, except that there were no nurses, only armed guards. "You must understand," said McCoy at the door. "My original instructions were to take things to the limit, and then apply only palliative care. No-one said anything about an exchange." The door opened. The stench of Tim's blood told her how close to death he was. She could see his form under the sheets, and a part of his face was unbandaged, to allow the ventilator tube in. "He feels nothing," said McCoy, sweeping away the sheet. Summers turned and retched, barely able to keep himself from vomiting. "He told us where they were," said McCoy. "If you wanted him presentable, you should have told me that before." Tim's heart was barely beating, but somehow it almost drowned out what McCoy was saying. [Next: Death in Gotham]