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30 August 2006 @ 01:28 am
Waste Of Time  
“God, this is such a waste of time.” Officer Jacobs complained as he followed his partner out of their squad car. A composite held in his right hand, “We’ve been to how many hospitals and have we found this mutie?”

His partner, an Officer Robbins smirked and closed the door. “Gotta keep trying or the Captain will have our asses.” He slid his hat onto his head and began into the hospital’s doors, the two police officers making for the reception desk.

Their polished shoes clicked and clacked against the glossy floor underfoot and it wasn’t long until they were at the desk, speaking to the woman behind it. “Sorry to bother you but I don’t suppose you know if someone fitting this description was admitted?”

The nurse leaned forward, taking the composite from the officer’s hand and furrowed her brow. “Hey Chelle, doesn’t this look like the guy in room 101?” The composite was passed to the other woman who nodded her head, “Yeah …young guy, got out of surgery a day or so ago.”

Now the curious gaze turned to the officers who looked stunned at their search bearing fruit, “Why are you looking for him?”

“Clear this floor,” Officer Jacobs said urgently before he was radioing in for backup and his partner was moving steadily towards room 101.

The nurses looked set to argue but were silenced by Jacobs saying, “Just do it,” before he was moving after his partner, a hand pulling his gun from his belt and holding it out in front of him.

John was bored and he had a nasty habit of not being able to sit still when bored. It had bugged the hell out of Bobby especially when he’d been trying to do homework and John had been sat there clicking his pen or drumming his fingers. He’d flicked through day time TV, not being able to find anything and had finally given up and taken to staring at the ceiling.

However sound from outside of his room drew his attention like a moth to a flame. He almost heard whispered voices and strained to hear snippets. It was the click of a trigger and the muttered, “On the count of three,” that made him realise just what the hell was happening.

Aw fuck, couldn’t a guy rest in peace? Obviously not.

John’s hands pulled at the IV lines that connected him to the various machines and it was with a pained grunt that he hauled himself over the side of the bed. He dropped, landed on his chest and practically coughed out a breath which his chest struggled to drag back in to fill his lungs.

Eyes darted to the window before John was sliding under his bed, using the shadows to hide him from sight and he crouched low, holding his knees close and flattening his fingertips against the ground so he’d be able to move quickly if he had to.

Remy had taken his possessions; including his gauntlets which admittedly the Cajun had to wrench from Pyro’s shaking hands and all that remained were his clothes. Those weren’t going to protect him from a hail of bullets.

Fuck, he needed his element but unless he found himself a smoker and soon, he was pretty much screwed.

His breathing was unsteady, shallow and quick. He could feel the tremble across his arms and the seconds between his waiting for them to kick the door down and their actual kicking of the door down seemed like an eternity. Time slowed, everything else ceased to exist and all John could do was watch that door until the hinges gave way under the heavy aggressive assault.

John’s movement, his rouse, worked as the Officers swung their guns right to left and left to right. They’d both been expecting to see someone in bed and there wasn’t, they didn’t even think to look under their bed. That was their mistake. Some of the nastiest monsters lived under the bed.

He moved as quickly as his injury would permit, wrestled the machine with the heart beat monitor and swung it using the wheels before slamming it into the nearest Officer. The surprise attack was enough to knock the balance, unsettle their equilibrium and just enough time for John to slip out and take off down the corridor.

John wasn’t moving very fast, his breathing was escaping him in short pained grunts but his survival instinct kept him on his feet. He heard the shouts of, “Move out of our way now!” from behind him as the Officers picked themselves up and gave chase.

He slammed his shoulder into the nearby fire exit door, grimaced as pain jarred his every step and the sharp piercing wail of a fire alarm ripped its way through the entire building. John grappled the banister, tried to keep himself steady against it as his feet stumbled and tripped over the stairs.

John was precisely three flights down when the Officers opened the door and came after him, one stopped at the top of the stairs pointing his gun and shouting, “Freeze or I’ll shoot.” Given a choice between freeze and getting shot at, John chose the latter rather than the former and took off again.

The shot was fired, just like the good Officer promised but fortunately John was already too far away for it to hit. Officer Robbins was hot on his heels, his weight clattering on the stone stairwell after him.

John came out on another floor, stumbled and tripped before forcing himself up to keep fucking running because they could not and they would not stop him if he just kept moving.

People screamed, did this highly dramatic flailing as John told them to, “Get the fuck out of my way.” Barely slowing down as he careened, yes, careened around a corner and he fought against the natural slide that tended to happen with bare feet and slick floor.

He needed a smoker; he needed a flame, something or anything.

Officer Robbins and Jacobs came sprawling out of the door and quickly split up, one taking after John directly whilst the other went in another direction. The idea was to catch him front and back.

John followed all the signs, scrambling for an exit and he found it in a back exit which brought him out into a narrow passageway. He slammed the door shut after himself, dragged a nearby dumpster across it to try and stop Jacobs’ progress after him.

He could not keep going for much longer, John knew that much. It was sheer determination and a hell of a lot of adrenaline that kept him moving. He cradled his ribs, hissed in a breath before once again picking up the pace only to come out in front of the hospital with a gun pointed directly in his face.

“Stop right there, mutie!” Robbins yelled, all red in the face and angry. Very angry.

John’s shoulders were heaving, his hands trembling and his hair and skin were glistening with sweat, he just licked his lips. He knew that Jacobs would be coming up on him very soon and then he’d be trapped between two Officers with guns.

“Fine, you win.” He muttered, seeming to concede to defeat as he lifted his hands but the truth of the matter was he’d caught sight of a smoker and the still lit flame of their tool for ingesting cancer into their body.

John just watched the Officer, his skin a shade of white and his entire body trembling with the sheer effort it took to stay on his feet. “So, what happens next?” He asked, lips tugging up into a smirk, yeah it was a poor reflection on his usual smirk but hey he was fucked up and tired, cut a guy a break.

“You shut the hell up!” Robbins yelled, getting closer by one step.

The mutant known as Pyro just tipped his head, “Right,” and then he curled his fingers which dragged the flame from the lighter to his both hands. A moment later he pushed one hand out, splaying his fingers wide which sent a sudden onslaught of fire at the Officer.

Robbins never even knew what hit him, all he could do was scream and get blown away before Pyro swung his right arm around and dragged the flame back to unleash on Jacobs as he approached from the rear. He kept pumping out the heat until he was sure it was done and both Officers were dead.

John collapsed to his knees before falling forward to catch his weight, the flames extinguished the moment flesh met the ground, a shaky breath being forced out and then in until fingernails bit into the concrete.

“Get the fuck up,” He muttered as he eased his fingers and then rocked to his feet. He didn’t look back, he just kept moving because he had to get out of there before anymore cops turned up.
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