Preventors' Case #84309: Splicers + Chapter Twenty-Six

Written By: bikkothewriter
see Ch. 1 for warning, notes, disclaimer

Heero gasped and sputtered, coming awake at the sudden splash of cold water to his face.

"Wakey, wakey," Nellie sang, her face just inches from his.

He growled, jerking forward to find wrists and ankles manacled to a steel chair that was bolted to the floor. He looked around, recognizing the room he was trapped in. The break room of the boutique. The same boutique where Heero and his team made first contact with Murai. Police caution tape hung like festive ribbons from the door's trim and bright splashes of evaporated recombinant decorated the tan walls. To his left, the steel table was once again full of colored vials and beakers. Before it stood Murai.

"It's a wonder that the Preventors are able to solve any of their cases. It didn't take much effort to steal you away from the group."

Murai didn't bother to look over at Heero as he spoke, busying himself with his equipment. Slender vials of blue liquid were inserted into a centrifuge with care before Murai turned the machine on.

"What do you want?"

"There are a lot of things that I want, Heero. The first is to see you dead."

"I convinced him not to kill you," Nellie said proudly. She'd forgone the school uniform for a black halter dress and black high-top canvas sneakers with a white sole. Thin, silver earrings hung from her ears, mingling with the dark strands of her hair.

She came towards Heero with what he supposed was a sultry walk that left him cold inside. She placed her hands on his shoulders and when he didn't resist lowered herself to sit in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. With his hands balled into tight fists, Heero forced himself to stay calm. Panicking would not help him. Staying alert and aware long enough for help to arrive would.

"You should thank me."

"Thank you," he said absently. He realized that his com-link was missing from his ear and the mike from the hem of his t-shirt. No doubt, the pockets of his cargos were empty of his cell phone, which meant the Preventors had no way to track him. His heart beat faster with worry.

"I wouldn't suggest getting comfortable, Heero. You're not safe yet. Consider this a temporary reprieve."

"Why?"

"Because Nellie tells me that you are very much like my nephew Brandon. I don't believe it, but I promised her that I would give you the chance to prove yourself."

"It's okay, you'll do fine."

"Maybe," Murai said, finally turning to look at Heero. He looked like a caring veterinarian, his former occupation, with his soft sagging skin and thinning gray hair. Black framed glasses sat perched on the bridge of his drooping nose and Heero could easily picture him holding a kitten close to his chest as he feed it from a bottle. It was his eyes, however, that showed Heero the killer he knew Murai to be. Dark brown irises that faded into a pale blue brought on by old age saw through Heero and past him as if he were nothing. Murai had eyes that lacked compassion, sympathy or remorse. The very same eyes that Heero saw on rapists and murderers. Murai wouldn't lose any sleep over killing Heero; Nellie's feelings be damned.

"I admit that you are very persistent. Annoyingly so, but it is a quality even I can appreciate."

The centrifuge stopped and Murai turned his attention back to the machine and removed one of the vials. The liquid inside was now separated with a white film accumulating on the top of the blue matter. Using a plunger, Murai extracted the white film and carefully deposited equal doses into two empty test tubes.

With Murai's attention focused on his task, Nellie wriggled in Heero's lap and pressed her face to his. "I'm going to kill that woman you were with. She had her hands all over you and you belong to me."

"Hilde? She's…she's nobody. We were acting. Undercover."

Murai snorted, sparing Heero a disbelieving look. "Acting to you maybe. You could suffocate on the smell of her lust over you. It's sad, really. She threw herself all over you like a whore and you were oblivious. You were probably wondering where Duo would leave his next gift for you."

"How do you know about Duo?"

"We know lots of things about you," Nellie answered.

"Indeed we do. More than you know about yourself."

"I doubt it," Heero snapped.

"Oh? Did you know that it was Hilde Schbeiker who advised Director Yates to fire you? She was under the opinion that once Duo found out that his plan to protect you backfired, he'd run to turn himself in. It seems none of you know him as well as you thought."

"And you do?"

"I know a man at his limit when I see him."

"And how do you know anything about him? You don't even know him."

"Tell me, Heero, how many times did he tell you everything was okay, that everything was fine? How many times did he smile to your face when you knew he was upset? I know him because he is exactly like Brandon," Murai snapped. "So busy trying not to be a burden even while he's dying inside! And me? I was just like you. Too busy with my job, with taking care of others to stop and see what was right in front of my face."

"Gabby, it wasn't your fault," Nellie said softly, gently. "We already killed the man who took him away from us."

Taking a calming breath, Murai continued to work. "You're right. Rather than tell me what was wrong, Brandon kept things to himself. Hid himself away from me and when an opportunity to change his circumstances came along, he took it. Much the same way as Duo. Wouldn't you agree, Heero?"

Heero said nothing.

"its okay, Hee-chan." Nellie kissed his cheek, hugging him tight around the shoulders.

"Yes, Heero, it's okay," Murai patronized. "Your Duo is still alive and using his new lease on life to save others. He's turned his life around, while Brandon is dead."

"Is that it? Brandon died from splicing so everyone else should too?"

Murai threw his head back with a laugh. "Is this the part where I tell you my motives and motivations? You are ever the dedicated agent, Heero.

"I am a scientist first and foremost, Heero, and to create the perfect formula, there must be some trial and error."

Heero looked at the test tubes Murai steadily filled then up at Murai as the man smiled cruelly at him.

"What do you want with me?"

"I want you to kill Nellie's father."

"You did promise."

"Why?" he asked Murai. "Why do you care whether he lives or dies? You don't care about anyone else."

"I care about her," he said coldly. "If I didn't, you wouldn't be alive now. Show him, Nellie. Show him why our father deserves to die."

"You have to promise not to give me that look," she whispered against Heero's ear.

"What look?"

"Pity."

Afraid of what he might see, Heero nodded bracing himself for the worst.

She rose from his lap, stepping back a few feet. Murai kept his back turned, eyes on his work as Nellie hooked her thumbs into the top of the dress. Pushing down, the dress slipped over her breasts and over her hips to land in a black puddle at her feet.

Heero gasped through his nose, clenching his fists as his heart threatened to thunder out of his chest. He looked because it would have been worse to look away and not acknowledge what the girl had suffered through. When she told him about the scars between her legs, he pictured thin, fading scars curving across the insides of her thighs. Painful but unremarkable. The scars she had were anything but.

Her inner thighs were mottled with thick scar tissue that rubbed together obscenely. His eyes moved scant inches upward where her sex lay uncovered, the scars proof of her taken innocence. The lips were ragged, as if chewed, one smaller than the other. The scars didn't end there. Scars made from cuts and burns ran along her torso drawing his eyes towards her breasts. Puckered and marred, the nipples lost under scar tissue, Heero pictured the hands of drunken men, dull knives and broken glass destroying her body.

He fought to breathe even as Murai asked her to show her back. She turned in the circle of her dress, and Heero dropped his head, shutting his eyes tight. He gasped several times on the verge of hyperventilating, knowing the sight would haunt him. Along the left side of her back, whore was forever carved into her skin.

"A man who could do that to his daughter, let other men do that to her doesn't deserve to live. I'd planned to pay someone to find him so that I could kill him but you've plastered my face around the entire Earth Sphere and I can't get off colony. So I'm going to hire you, Heero, to do the job for me."

"I can't," he said roughly.

"You can. The fact that you can't bear to look at her tells me you could kill him and not lose any sleep."

Murai was right and it made Heero sick to know that he was. He could kill Nellie's father. He could pull the trigger without a hint of remorse for what he let his daughter suffer through. A seven-year-old girl used as payment for her father's drug addiction for six years of her life. The type of man who could do such a thing deserved to die.

"I can't," he repeated, refusing to lift his head or open his eyes.

"But Hee-chan you promised."

"Yes, Heero, you promised."

"I won't be your assassin."

"You realize that I can leave you with no choice in this," Murai said cruelly. "I know who's important to you. Relena Peacecraft, maybe. Nellie, you've always wanted to meet her. This may very well be the perfect opportunity."

"She's so pretty."

"Indeed she is. Or maybe I should go after Duo? I know exactly where to find him. It's funny actually. He's wasting his time restoring those agents, but I'll let him continue to feel important."

"Leave them alone."

"Or maybe your little Kitten. Accidents do happen, Heero."

"Don't."

"I'm not above killing a three year old, Heero. You forced me into this. You took away my options. Find her father and I'll leave the boy alone."

He had no choice but to agree. He couldn't risk Kitten's life, not for a man who could rape a seven year old. "Fine."

"Yes." Nellie clapped her hands and when Heero looked to her, he was happy to find her dress in place.

"I want him on L1 within a week. I want you to bring him to me. I want to watch you kill him."

Heero let out a hot, angry breath through clenched teeth. "Fine."

"Please, Heero, contain your enthusiasm."

"Just let me go."

"I'm not done with you just yet. I want to insure that you'll do exactly what I want."

He took the now full vial, screwing the threaded neck into a jet injector. The small, needle-less injector too closely resembled a gun for Heero's liking. He tensed, rearing back as far as the chair would allow as Murai approached him.

"Don't."

Murai grabbed his jaw, forcing his head up and to the side leaving his neck stretched long and clean. His grip was too strong to be that of an old man and Heero realized that Murai was not only splicing Nellie and others, but himself as well.

"Stop," he said realizing with no small amount of fear that he did not want to be spliced. After meeting dozens upon dozens of Splicers, he knew that no good came of it. He didn't want to be an animal. He didn't want to let his inner animal free. He'd lost so much already, losing his body and DNA to Murai was terrifying. "I don't want this."

He looked to Nellie where she watched. He let her see his fear as he tried to fight off Murai. Of anyone, she could understand what it meant to forced, to have his body taken against his will.

"Don't do this. Don't force me into this."

"Gabby," she said hesitantly, wringing her hands.

Murai turned to her, pausing, "We've talked about this. It's for the best."

Her face calmed and she nodded for him to continue.

"No. No!"

The tip pressed against his neck, lining up against his vein. Murai pressed the trigger and the liquid shot out and through his skin. At first, the pain was a sharp sting of the initial injection but quickly became a burn as the recombinant chased through his veins. Heero gasped, seizing up in his chair to keep from screaming.

"Me, too," Nellie said.

"Of course." Murai refilled the injector with the second vial. Pressing it to Nellie's throat, he pressed the trigger.

The pain quickly spread through Heero, as if razor blades traveled along his blood stream scouring him from the inside. Moving up through his cheek, then through his temple, the milky liquid attacked his brain. The pain was unbearable and he screamed, jerking in his chair, tossing his head left and right in a vain attempt to ease his suffering.

"The first time is always the worse," Murai said.

As Heero panted, Murai watched impassively and Nellie sank to her knees clutching her head, whimpering. He could feel the recombinant making its way down his spine and he tried to brace himself for the pain as it moved across his nerves. He screamed again not just from the burn but also from the twisting and pulling of his muscles. The wet sound of bones popping reached his ears as he began to convulse, his body tearing itself apart. The chair's manacles were the only thing that kept him in place.

Finally, blissfully, it was over, the pain subsiding in measures. He collapsed, trembling and panting. He was soaked in his own sweat, which did little to cool his overheated body. He could feel the comforting darkness of unconsciousness settling in over him but he opened his eyes long enough to see Murai help Nellie to her feet. The old man caught his gaze and Heero barely caught his words before passing out.

"One week or I will kill the boy."

+

He felt hot and dizzy. His stomach rolled and complained inside him. Splicer fever. He was not a doctor but he knew the signs. It was typically non-fatal; a common side effect after a major splicing as the body adjusted to the change. However, 'typically' meant that some did die from the fever and with Murai as part of the equation, Heero did not have high hopes.

He felt stretched thin, as if his skin and muscles were pulled too tight against his bones. He looked down at himself, afraid to see fur, stripes, or spots covering the skin of his arms but found nothing but his own skin. The muscles in his arms bulged as he flexed his arms, pulling against the cuffs. He stared at his hands transfixed at the way his bones pressed against his skin, wondering if his hands had always been so big. His nails were dark and curved, ending in sharp tips.

It was the only physical change he could see but he would have known that he was spliced even if didn't remember the pain of Murai's injection. He could hear cars passing outside the building, the squawk of radios, and footsteps just outside the door. He could smell men's cologne. It was faint but growing stronger and he raised his head to listen to the footsteps he heard approaching. Men's cologne but women's heels, sharp and steady, advanced and he watched the door, sore muscles tensing.

It was neither who he expected nor who he wanted to find him. Lieutenant Patricia Denvers stood in the doorway; gun in hand, as she swept the room for threats. Her dark hair hung free around her shoulders and did nothing to soften the harsh lines of her face. She was dressed in one of her customary pantsuits, this one black with white pinstripes.

"Jesus, Yuy what the fuck did you do to yourself?"

A growl rumbled in his throat as she dropped her arms, stalking over. He did not like Denvers and being found by the insensitive woman set him on edge. She grabbed his chin, her fingers digging into his skin as she forced his head left and right, studying his face.

"Let go of me," he ordered through clenched teeth. Anger didn't begin to describe what he felt. It was like a quiet rage burning in his chest, hot and fierce. She was too close and hurting him, inspecting him as if he were a dog.

"You're not in a position to give orders, Yuy. In fact, I heard you lost your job. I'd be nice to me if I were you."

He growled harder now, the sound disconcerting to his own ears but he was more focused on Denvers. She was in his space, touching him, and now threatening him. Unacceptable.

He jerked his head back, wrenching his face from her hold. Snapping forward before she could react, he struck, biting down on her wrist. He locked his jaw, his teeth grinding into her flesh and bones. A bitter smell rose from her, masking the cologne as she jerked trying to free herself.

"Bastard. Let go."

He would have taunted her, asked her who was in charge now, but his mouth was full and something inside him refused to let go. Logically, he knew his behavior was erratic, strange, but he couldn't let go. Not until he won. She stared him in the eye, fighting his hold, fighting him, and he only held tighter.

"Lieutenant Denvers?" a male voice called from down the corridor outside of the break room, footsteps fast approaching.

"Davis, get in here," Denvers yelled and when the uniformed officer appeared in the doorway she ordered, "Get him off of me."

Heero didn't spare the officer a glance, his focus on Denvers, but he could tell by the man's voice that he was young. No more than twenty-two and fresh from the police academy, he came to his lieutenant's side, holstering his weapon.

"Commander Yuy?"

"Did I tell you to ask him his fucking name? Get him off of me!"

He growled a warning to Davis when the man reached for Heero's head and Denvers hissed in response. Quick to take the hint, Davis moved away from him going instead to Denvers, putting his hands on her head.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Stop looking at him." He pushed, forcing her to lower her head but she continued to glare. "Lieutenant, relax and stop looking at him."

"What the fuck are you talking about? Just pry his fucking mouth off of me."

"Lieutenant, the only way you're getting loose is if he let's you go. Stop looking him in the eye and let your body go limp."

She huffed, her hand clenching into a fist, the bitter smell rising as she closed her eyes. The tension in Heero's shoulders eased just slightly. She wasn't staring at him anymore but she had yet to submit. When her eyes opened again, she stared angrily at the floor, but he didn't relinquish his hold. It was important to him that she gives up and he knew he could sit very patiently, her bloody wrist in his mouth, until she did.

"Lieutenant," Davis urged. "You need to relax and stop fighting him."

"I'm trying," she hissed. "He's hurting me, damn it."

"He's not going to let go until you do."

"And what makes you the fucking expert?"

"It's your wrist, Lieutenant."

"Shut up, Davis."

It took some time before she relaxed, the muscles in her body going lax in stages. It wasn't until her hand went lax, her fist unclenching, fingers dangling that he loosened his jaw. The moment his mouth opened, Davis hauled Denvers away. He propped her against the far wall with instructions to keep her wrist raised chest-level.

Done with her, Davis returned squatting before Heero, his eyes downcast. Heero felt like a king on his throne, his knight bowing before him begging an audience with his lord. He felt in control of the situation and he liked it very much. Irrational to think himself in control while cuffed to a chair, but Davis was differing to him and Denvers was afraid of him. He couldn't do much worse given the situation.

"Commander," Davis said softly, looking up at Heero. He raised his hand, his fingers curled inward. Heero watched him carefully as Davis touched the back of his fingers to Heero's cheek, then down to his neck. "Shit."

"What is it? Denvers asked.

"He's burning up," he said rising. "I think he has Splicer fever."

"And? He won't die from it; though I might need a fucking rabies shot."

"He could and you won't."

Heero watched Davis pull at his navy uniform top, careless of the buttons as he striped it, then his white wife beater off, rushing to the sink. He gave a sound of relief when he found the water running. He soaked the tank then returned to Heero wringing the wet cloth over his head. The cool water felt good against his heated skin and the cloth felt even better draped over the back of his neck.

"Have you called the paramedics?"

"No."

"Do that and call the Preventors. They need to know where he is."

"Are you in charge here, Davis?"

"Please, Lieutenant."

She grunted, pulling her phone out to make the necessary calls as Davis shrugged back into his uniform shirt. He bent to inspect the cuffs restraining Heero, gingerly touching his chaffed and bruised wrists. Heero watched him closely. So far Davis had done nothing to threaten him but a part of him was still wary and on guard.

"How did you know how to get him off of me?" Denvers asked once done with her phone call.

Davis looked at Denvers then to Heero asking, "Murai did this right?"

At Heero's nod, he continued, "I read the case file. All of his other victims became primal after being spliced, more animal than human. You got too close. He wasn't going to let go until you stopped being a threat."

"Then why isn't he trying to bite you?"

"Because I'm not threatening him." Under his breath he added, "And I've never spat at him or told him I'd cut his balls off."

Heero chuckled, surprising Davis who smiled. Denvers often liked to threaten the manhood of those around her.

"And what the fuck is so funny?"

"Nothing, Lieutenant."

Denvers glared at Davis then turned her attention to Heero. There was rage in her eyes and Heero responded to it, tensing for a fight. She crossed the distance between them, mindless of Davis' warning. She pointed a manicured finger in Heero's face and it took a great deal of willpower to keep from biting it off.

"I wouldn't be laughing, Yuy. Spliced or not I'm pressing charges for this," she said waving her bloody wrist in his face.

"Lieutenant, that isn't necessary."

"Shut up, Davis. Yuy is no longer a Preventors' agent and he attacked an officer of the law."

"He's under duress. He's been kidnapped and--"

"I told you to shut up." She pointed her finger at Davis and he shut his mouth, his lips pressed into a thin, angry line. Happy to have cowed her own officer, she leaned into Heero with a nasty grin, "If it were up to me, I'd leave you here to rot."

He gripped the arms of the chair, the metal bending and twisting under his hands.

"Instead, I'm going to see you locked up in a cell for the rest of your life. You think you're hot shit because you fought in a war and you're fucking the queen of the world? You're fucking useless."

The left manacle snapped.

"You've been on this case for months, haven't made a single arrest and now look at you. Tied down and spliced. I wouldn't be surprised if you were working with Murai."

The right manacle snapped.

"Probably fucking that little girl he hangs out with."

He lunged.

He missed Denvers face by mere inches, clawing down her arm instead. She was saved by Davis hauling her out of the way at the last moment. She was saved because his feet were shackled to the chair. He fell heavily to the concrete floor, pain lancing up his knees and hands as he caught himself. He jerked angrily against the chains holding him, thoughts of clawing Denvers to pieces fueling him, strengthening him.

"Shit!"

"What the hell is wrong with him?"

"Get out!"

"What?"

"For the love of God, Denvers, go outside before he rips your face off."

He dug his claws into the concrete, pulling. Behind him, the chair groaned, the metal giving, and snapped at its base. The chair was free from the floor but not from Heero's manacled legs. The awful sound of the chair dragging across the floor was drowned out by Denvers' panicked cursing as she fled the room. Her running excited Heero, thrilled him, and had it not been for the chair and Davis getting in his way he would have chased her.

"Commander, please calm down. She's gone."

She wasn't gone. He could still smell her, the men's cologne and the bitter stench of fear. He could hear her panting even as she cursed him. She was close, wounded and scared; an easy target.

Davis squatted down before him, his hands raised in surrender. His eyes were a warm liquid brown, his skin a dark caramel. Where Denvers' smell was repulsive, Davis was inviting and Heero used that to reign himself in. He closed his eyes inhaling deeply as he let Davis' placating words wash over him. Thoughts of chasing Denvers as if she were a rabbit in the brush left him as Davis touched a comforting hand to his back.

The moment his rage calmed, he felt sick. There was blood in his mouth. His skin was on fire. He shook, muscles going weak as the adrenaline left him and he collapsed to the cold concrete panting. His vision darkened around the edges, becoming blurred and he closed his eyes trying to fight down the rising panic. He was changed, different, dangerous. It would be too easy for him to hurt the people close to him, to grow so angry that he attacked them. As he fell into unconsciousness, he wondered if that wasn't Murai's plan all along.

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