Quoted By:
"Health is gonna check that. Not us." Both security guys are fidgeting. "Uh, we— I heard Casey is also interested in checking in, if that's any better."
Casey FUCKING Kemper. You have transcended transcendental FUCKEDness. You are in uncharted territory. If Casey is in a good mood, it'll all be fine, but lately... you've walked by those closed doors. You've heard him go.
"Thanks anyways," you say dismally.
The silence is only made worse by the droning of a yard clipper outside. You clear your throat. "So I'd be happy to walk to Health with you guys, if that's..."
Neither security guy meets your gaze.
"..." You close your eyes. "You really want to tranquilize me?"
"It's not that we..." Tranq gun feels the weight of his tranq gun. He does not deny anything.
Fuck it. "Okay. Fucking tranquilize me, if that's what— I am fucking <span class="mu-i">clean,</span> though. And I am a fucking Project Lead. I want you two to think about that."
"Sorry, Rudy," walkie talkie says.
"Just don't—" You gesture. "Is there something I can drink? Or a pill, or— you are not shooting me with that thing."
"Uh," says tranq gun. "It's just a— we just have the darts. I guess we can stab you, sort of...?"
This is probably the worst day of your life. "Okay. Whatever."
"Cool." Tranq gun elbows walkie talkie, who slips around you and grabs your wrists. He pushes up your sleeve. You sigh. Tranq gun is busy opening up the gun, which he sets on the floor after retrieving a wicked metal dart. "You need to hold still. And <span class="mu-i">don't</span> scream. These hurt a lot."
You refrain from asking how he knows, mainly because he lunges and drives a hypodermic metal dart into your upper arm. You twist in walkie talkie's grip and— you <span class="mu-i">don't</span> scream. You don't. You do make a noise of some kind.
"I guess we better just leave that in," tranq gun says contemplatively.
Well, you're still awake. God, you're still awake. Great! Wonderful! "How— how long does it take?"
"Couple minutes."
"A couple..." Why would you think otherwise. "Okay. Can I lay down on my bed, then?"
Tranq gun wavers, but eventually waves a hand at walkie talkie. You're frogmarched to your own bed, the one with blood on the FUCKING bedsheets. There will now be more blood on the bedsheets.
Your arm feels like it's been stabbed with a giant FUCKING needle. Your forehead feels like it has shards of FUCKING glass in it. You fight back a wave of dizziness and await death. You mean sleep.
A minute later, you're dimly aware of being hefted by two sets of hands. You try to mumble something like "I'm not asleep yet," but it comes out like "Immmmmnasleehyeh," and is ignored. Then all is dark.
(2/3?)
