Collide Gamer

 The way to the arcade was strained, to say the least. Rave, who had defended Victoria just two days ago, glared angrily at the confirmed traitor at all times. “Sure ya won’t stab us in the back?” she asked on one occasion.

“As long as Igor doesn’t want me to, I will do no such thing.” Victoria answered while staring straight ahead. John couldn’t detect even a hint of guilt on her.

“You mind if I ask you a thing?” John intervened before things could take a course that would pull their attention away from their current mission. “Why do you hand the blood out in the first place if it is that easily abusable?”

“I don’t know.” Victoria kept her eyes on the target, the small alley between two relatively new buildings.

“The fuck do ya mean ya dunno?” Rave asked.

“My rank in the Bloodfallen is not high enough to be presented with such secrets.”

“So, you just blindly trust that guy?”

That got a reaction from Victoria, her eyes snapped to him and she caught up to him. Little space between them, she hissed, “Don’t you dare refer to Igor as ‘That guy’. He is saving you from her.”

 ‘And the more I hear about this whole thing the less sure I am about if you guys are fit to protect anybody.’ John kept that to himself as he apologized to de-escalate the situation, “Sure, sorry.”

It wasn’t worth making a fuss over right now. He may have solved the puzzle of the origin of the Blood of Thana but who she was, why her blood had such strong properties or who the Bloodfallen actually were, those questions still went unanswered. For now they had to deal with Travolta.

“Jane, can you write a message to your dad?” John requested, as the typical alleyway came into view. “I think if something is wrong with Travolta, he’ll want to try and deal with it.”

“On it,” Rave responded with a nod. “We waiting until he arrives or…?”

John wanted to answer affirmatively, but Victoria answered for him. “No. We won’t make Igor wait.” She kept on moving.

The Gamer was tempted to just let her go in on her own, but there was no telling what she would or would not do. Best case seemed to be that Travolta ripped her apart. Worst case she drove a bullet through his brain. He would never know if he stayed there. “Fucking bitch,” he cursed at her openly. She didn’t even acknowledge it with a glance over her shoulder.

They entered the Protected Space and stepped onto the concrete path. It cut through the wild grass, growing around this bit of preserved bit of city history. The arcade stood there like always, the shabby wooden walls tagged with dozens of sprayers’ artworks. John had never thought about this before but it was really silent here. It wasn’t just the wind that was absent. The buzzing of the streets, the cars driving by, the many sounds of commerce, all just vanished. The silence was usually filled with chatter and bold steps. The darkened mood prevented even Rave from thinking of something to say.

They walked up to the building and went inside. The ground floor was the same as ever. The arcade machines stood as a little enclave around the two PC’s that were seldom used while the conference table stood there with the same unneeded hugeness that was its trademark. The flickering of screens that had looked so inviting in the past now was a distraction in his periphery that he did not want.

A scratching noise came from above, like a piece of furniture getting shoved across the bare floor. John sent Aclysia a signal to take the lead as they walked upstairs. All that he had heard made him wary of what was probably going to happen next. He hoped against reason that this all would be resolved cleanly.

It was his first time on the second floor. There wasn’t much to see. There was a door with a bathroom sign, another one that was open and led to a small room (He assumed that was the one where Rave kept her stuff) and a last red one with a big T painted on it in black colour. Aclysia pushed the handle of the door and they peeked inside.

John had expected Travolta’s room to be some kind of fitness studio but instead he found a makeshift laboratory. Instruments for chemistry stood on a multitude of desks. Medical equipment was piled in a corner around a mattress carelessly thrown on the ground.

Travolta was lying two metres removed from the bed. The muscly man had a transfusion dripping crimson liquid into his right arm. The bloody red liquid pulsed, moved within the bag in an attempt to squeeze itself down the tube faster, right into the guild leader’s veins. The bag was almost empty. At the side of Travolta was a toppled shelf, he must have tried to lean on it and the thing had given in.

“Travolta!” Rave was hurrying over and John was quick to follow. They kneeled down next to Travolta but whatever they did they barely got a reaction. Best Travolta could do was turn his head and look at them with bloodshot eyes before resting his head on the floor again.

“Step away.” Victoria said, weapon at the ready and pointed at Travolta, “He is clearly infected, this whole thing ends now.”

“Fuck off.” John cursed at her. “Jane, call Regan again. Tell him to hurry. I’ll deal with Victoria.”

“You are an unwise person, John Newman,” Victoria said, now holding him at gunpoint.

“You can say a lot of things about me but not that,” John told her, arms crossed. “Rather, I feel that your perception is skewed, Victoria. Whatever may be the case, we are not killing Travolta.”

Victoria aimed at his feet and pulled the trigger only for the hammer to refuse to move. “Possession,” she hissed and pulled out another gun but John just repeated the process. The spell was as fast as he could see and there was plenty he could do to a gun to jam its functionality. “You are a fool. We have seen what happens next hundreds of times already.”

“And I am supposed to just believe that? Your approach has been everything but trust inducing.”

“Dad is on his way.” Rave said from the background and returned to Travolta’s side. The hose that connected to his bloodstream slowly emptied. “You will see in a minute why we do it this way.” Victoria took a few steps back and remained still as they waited for Regan to arrive.

Without a sound Travolta suddenly stood up. “Jane?” He asked as his bloodshot eyes focused on the world. “When the fuck did you get here? Argh, whatever, just leave.”

“Travolta, the Bloodfallen want to kill you.” John stated the situation, “You need to come with us.”

“I can’t… I need to understand her better.” Travolta took the bag, “She is in so much pain, John. Only in pain. There are no other feelings, only pain. Why? Why isn’t she allowed to feel anything else?” His demeanour changed rapidly, the moment of clearness he had just had was replaced with incoherent ramblings. “Nails, there are nails, Jane. The world spins, spins around for so long. What does it spin for? It’s… cold? It’s all so cold.”

“Travolta, you need to…” Rave put a hand on the man’s shoulder as he heaved himself up.

“DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME, HUMAN!”

Rave was suddenly catapulted through the room by a backhand slap of Travolta’s thick arm. She nearly slammed into the pile of medical equipment. Only a feline body getting between it and her prevented Rave from having a terrible crash. “Owww,” Rave complained, rubbing the spot where Travolta’s hand had connected with her chest.

“I advise you to be more careful.” Copernicus landed a few metres away and scratched himself behind his ear, “I am not going to help you too much.” Somewhat relieved, John turned to look at Travolta.

That was new and also very, very bad from the looks of it. “I warned you.” Victoria shouted over to them and pulled out an assault rifle. “This is what happens every time.”

“Pain, that is all…. all the pain…. the pain she feels.” Travolta was gone and whatever had now taken his place was rambling on and on. “Torment. Senseless, emotionless, endless, torment. That is truth. Pain is….” Travolta laid his eyes on Victoria. “You understand? Don’t you?” He asked and walked towards her. “The Bloodmother is in you too. The answer is under the nails.”

Victoria didn’t grace him with an answer. Too distracted to prevent it this time, John only realized she had pulled out yet another gun when the sound of flying bullets echoed around the room. Each bullet that hit Travolta sent shockwaves through his whole body. Despite what had just happened, Rave was quick to shout at Victoria. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Cleaning the mess.” Victoria let the empty magazine drop and jammed a new one into the handgun.

Travolta, despite being riddled with bullets, was still standing. He wasn’t bleeding. To John, it even looked like the wounds were closing as the mountain of muscles that was Travolta started storming forwards to keep Victoria from continuing to shoot. The empty transfusion tore out of his arm. “WHERE IS SHE?!” he screamed as he rammed shoulder first into Victoria. The comparatively small woman was lifted up and carried along, until they both crashed into one of the tables. Expensive lab equipment and wooden splinters were sent flying everywhere.

Whether or not Travolta was beyond saving at this point John didn’t know, but it was clear that they needed to do something. “Aclysia, you try to keep him occupied. Jane, we will try to subdue him.” It was a stupid plan in all honesty. Travolta had already shown to be several times stronger than each of them but they needed to find a way to….

“Do not despair, dad is here!”