Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > ... A Little More Kill Him
“Where does she work?” Andy whispered as they crept otherwise silently through the halls.
“She's in the Press Office, but I don't know where that is.”
Andy could tell from the sound of Joe's voice that he was stressed, terrified and fearing the worst, but the most he could realistically do was to comfort his friend and try his hardest to help.
“We'll start at the first floor and work our way up. We'll search everywhere, if she's here, Joe, we'll find her,” he nodded to emphasise his intention to help Joe no matter what.
“Should we split up?” Joe asked somewhat nervously. “We could cover twice as much ground.”
Andy drew his lips into a thin line. If Andrea were still in the building, he too feared the worst. But, realistically, it was also possible that Brendon was still nearby, using Andrea as bait to lure the hunters. It was simply too dangerous to allow Joe to roam the building on his own. His reckless desire to find Andrea may well blind him to some very real dangers. Of course, the other possibility, possibly even more likely but equally terrible - Joe might find Andrea, badly hurt or worse. What if she was a vampire, waiting for them? On his own was certainly not the way to go.
“I think it's best we stay together,” Andy placed a hand on Joe's arm. “If there's any danger, we should face it together.”
Joe nodded, swallowing hard, aware of Andy's probably reasoning, but glad that he had kept it to himself. “Makes sense,” he agreed.
Almost twenty minutes and eight floors later, Joe turned to Andy and shook his head.
“I don't know if we've even reached her department yet! I should know this!”
“Why?” Andy asked, astonished by the statement.
“I'm… I'm her… I should know!”
“Joe, she didn't tell you and you've never been here, why would you know?”
“Look, Andy, even I know I'm not making sense! Just ignore me. Come on, let's try the next floor.”
They knew instantly that they had arrived at the right floor when they saw the upturned desks and the masses of paper strewn about the floor.
“This is it… she…”
“Joe.”
“She was all alone here when Brendon found her. She must have been terrified!”
“Joe,” Andy repeated, his voice filled with pain.
Without any more hesitation, Andy began dragging Joe in the direction that led to Andrea's bruised and bloodied form, lying face down, still bound. It took only the sight of her for Joe to race forward, pulling away from Andy's hold on his arm and dropping at her side.
“Andy! Help me!” Joe cried as he struggled with the knots binding her wrists and ankles.
Barely able to see through the wall of tears forming in his eyes, he worked frantically, but found himself getting nowhere.
“Andrea, baby!” he cried, almost choking as he spoke. “Please wake up!”
Turning her over and propping her up on his lap, he finally spotted the two puncture wounds on her neck, realising immediately that her extreme pallor and coldness to the touch were Brendon's doing. Tying her up had been a shock. Did he really need to? Couldn't he have overpowered her without that? Was it merely to torture her? He looked with distaste at the massive bruising around her wrists and ankles and knew immediately that it had been done before he drained her. If it had been after, there wouldn't have been enough blood left for bruises.
“Andrea,” he whispered.
“Joe, she's still alive, we need to get her out of here, now!”
Joe was frozen, staring down at the pale, cold skin he adored, at the closed eyes that were once so full of life.
“Joe!” Andy yelled. “We have to get her to the hospital!”
Joe stared up blankly. It was almost as if he were resigned to her fate, but Andy recognised it as shock - pure and simple. Joe was too terrified of losing her to register Andy's words.
“Bring her!” he ordered, hoping that Joe would simply follow orders, smiling with relief as Joe scooped her up in his arms without even a questioning glance.
*
A sharp violent twist on the handle was all it took to break the lock on the small vault, but Pete had psyched himself up for it. It was possible he'd only get one chance at it before Beckett realised what was happening and he had invested all his strength into the single move. In an instant the vault door swung open and Patrick was tumbling forward, desperate to get out of the cramped prison.
“Come on,” Pete ordered urgently.
Realistically, Patrick was in no fit state to race after his friend in a bid for freedom, but he had little choice. Stiff, sore and hungry, Patrick reeled from the shock of being able to move again, but knew that the luxury of a reaction would have to wait. Racing after Pete as he headed out of the building, Patrick was barely coherent, simply acting on instinct. Four floors above them, the escape attempt suddenly registered on Beckett's internal radar. Keeping himself linked to Patrick to block his efforts to contact Pete for help, Beckett suddenly became aware that the young vampire was free of the vault. Looking through Patrick's eyes, he could see one of the corridors, he could see…
“Peter!” Beckett suddenly yelled, his voice dripping with venom and hatred.
“Here?” Mike quizzed the sudden reaction.
“He's freed Patrick!” Beckett fumed. “Find them!” he screamed manhandling Mike and shoving him towards the door.
As Mike ran through the door, he encountered Brendon returning from depositing Andrea back near her desk.
“What's going on?” he asked urgently, stopping Mike in his tracks.
“Wentz!” Mike explained simply. “He's freed Stump. We have to stop them!”
“Where are they?” Brendon asked hurriedly.
“I don't know!” Mike replied as he dragged Brendon along with him. “Master William saw them… sensed them… I don't know!”
“Return to me,” a calm voice sounded in both their heads. “They have escaped. But do not worry, we still have our plans to make them suffer. Let them have this victory, it will just be all the sweeter when we destroy them.”
*
Patrick pressed himself up against the bark of a wide old tree somewhere in the centre of some relatively nearby parkland. If he had still been alive, he would have been breathing hard by now and he was a little, but more out of a reaction to adrenaline than out of need.
“Thanks,” he finally managed.
“That's okay,” Pete replied absently as he paced back and forth. Moments later he turned sharply. “I've solved your problem… I need you to help me with mine.”
Unable to raise his eyes to meet Patrick's Pete kept them lowered as he shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Patrick regarded him, realising from his demeanour that something was seriously wrong. Moving forward, Patrick placed a hand on Pete's arm comfortingly only to gasp in shock as his friend recoiled appearing to turn even further in on himself.
“What's wrong, Pete?” Patrick finally asked, keeping his tone even and gentle.
“You… you can't tell the others,” he replied, suddenly agitated and nervous.
“O…kay…” Patrick wasn't totally sure if he could keep the promise but needed to say something.
“I'm serious, Trick, you can't tell them… they'd kill me…” he finally admitted as he turned his back on Patrick, no longer able to look at him.
Patrick took a deep breath. Pete wasn't given to melodrama, if he thought they might kill him, then he knew something serious must be wrong. But what? He was a vampire! What could be more serious than that?
“What is it, Pete? What have you done?” Patrick tried to keep his voice non-judgemental.
“It's not what I've done… well, no… it is… but it's what I'm still doing.”
“Tell me, Pete,” Patrick tried a comforting approach again, this time placing his palm on Pete's back, forcing himself not to pull away as Pete stiffened at the touch.
“I'm addicted… to human blood,” he finally admitted, the pain in his voice more than apparent.
“This is because of me?” Patrick asked quietly.
“No,” Pete replied darkly. “It's because of Beckett.”
“But it was my blood?”
“Yeah,” Pete gave a resigned sigh.
“Have you had more?” Patrick asked, uncertain whether Pete would continue to share the details now.
“Yeah,” he whispered, barely audible to human ears, but loud enough for Patrick to hear.
“Are you killing?” Patrick tried hard not to sound shocked, but the answer Pete gave would determine his own reaction.
“Yeah,” Pete replied almost too low for even Patrick to hear. “Help me, Patrick… please help me.”
Pete dropped to his knees sobbing at the memory of the man he had only that night held in his grip as he sunk his fangs into his neck. He remembered everything, the hunt, the struggle, the soft popping sound and the sensation as he pierced the man's skin. But most of all, he remembered the sweet warm blood flowing over his tongue. The richness of the iron and copper tinged viscous fluid, heady with fear and adrenaline.
“Pete!” Patrick threw his arms around him as he pulled him close, shaking in his arms. “We'll get you off this, somehow, we'll sort it out. I found you the right blend before, didn't I? I can…”
“I can't keep that down any more,” Pete admitted his voice tight with guilt. “I can't drink it, Trick. I've tried so hard, but it won't stay in me! I even tried some variations, but Spencer said I'll never get off it.”
“Spencer!” Patrick gasped at the revelation.
“He's alive,” Pete sighed. “He wants to get even with Beckett too.”
“He can't be trusted!” Patrick insisted. “Not over Beckett and not over this! We can… no! We will fix this, Pete! We will!”
Dropping his head into the hollow between Patrick's neck and shoulder, Pete dissolved once more into floods of tears as Patrick pulled him close. Remembering when he had first returned from Beckett's, Patrick recalled that Pete had been a wreck then too, terrified that they would kill him, sharing information only when he had convinced himself it was safe to do so. Patrick's mind went blank as he tried to consider how he would resolve Pete's latest problem. It seemed impossible, but somehow he had to find a way - he had a promise to keep.
“She's in the Press Office, but I don't know where that is.”
Andy could tell from the sound of Joe's voice that he was stressed, terrified and fearing the worst, but the most he could realistically do was to comfort his friend and try his hardest to help.
“We'll start at the first floor and work our way up. We'll search everywhere, if she's here, Joe, we'll find her,” he nodded to emphasise his intention to help Joe no matter what.
“Should we split up?” Joe asked somewhat nervously. “We could cover twice as much ground.”
Andy drew his lips into a thin line. If Andrea were still in the building, he too feared the worst. But, realistically, it was also possible that Brendon was still nearby, using Andrea as bait to lure the hunters. It was simply too dangerous to allow Joe to roam the building on his own. His reckless desire to find Andrea may well blind him to some very real dangers. Of course, the other possibility, possibly even more likely but equally terrible - Joe might find Andrea, badly hurt or worse. What if she was a vampire, waiting for them? On his own was certainly not the way to go.
“I think it's best we stay together,” Andy placed a hand on Joe's arm. “If there's any danger, we should face it together.”
Joe nodded, swallowing hard, aware of Andy's probably reasoning, but glad that he had kept it to himself. “Makes sense,” he agreed.
Almost twenty minutes and eight floors later, Joe turned to Andy and shook his head.
“I don't know if we've even reached her department yet! I should know this!”
“Why?” Andy asked, astonished by the statement.
“I'm… I'm her… I should know!”
“Joe, she didn't tell you and you've never been here, why would you know?”
“Look, Andy, even I know I'm not making sense! Just ignore me. Come on, let's try the next floor.”
They knew instantly that they had arrived at the right floor when they saw the upturned desks and the masses of paper strewn about the floor.
“This is it… she…”
“Joe.”
“She was all alone here when Brendon found her. She must have been terrified!”
“Joe,” Andy repeated, his voice filled with pain.
Without any more hesitation, Andy began dragging Joe in the direction that led to Andrea's bruised and bloodied form, lying face down, still bound. It took only the sight of her for Joe to race forward, pulling away from Andy's hold on his arm and dropping at her side.
“Andy! Help me!” Joe cried as he struggled with the knots binding her wrists and ankles.
Barely able to see through the wall of tears forming in his eyes, he worked frantically, but found himself getting nowhere.
“Andrea, baby!” he cried, almost choking as he spoke. “Please wake up!”
Turning her over and propping her up on his lap, he finally spotted the two puncture wounds on her neck, realising immediately that her extreme pallor and coldness to the touch were Brendon's doing. Tying her up had been a shock. Did he really need to? Couldn't he have overpowered her without that? Was it merely to torture her? He looked with distaste at the massive bruising around her wrists and ankles and knew immediately that it had been done before he drained her. If it had been after, there wouldn't have been enough blood left for bruises.
“Andrea,” he whispered.
“Joe, she's still alive, we need to get her out of here, now!”
Joe was frozen, staring down at the pale, cold skin he adored, at the closed eyes that were once so full of life.
“Joe!” Andy yelled. “We have to get her to the hospital!”
Joe stared up blankly. It was almost as if he were resigned to her fate, but Andy recognised it as shock - pure and simple. Joe was too terrified of losing her to register Andy's words.
“Bring her!” he ordered, hoping that Joe would simply follow orders, smiling with relief as Joe scooped her up in his arms without even a questioning glance.
*
A sharp violent twist on the handle was all it took to break the lock on the small vault, but Pete had psyched himself up for it. It was possible he'd only get one chance at it before Beckett realised what was happening and he had invested all his strength into the single move. In an instant the vault door swung open and Patrick was tumbling forward, desperate to get out of the cramped prison.
“Come on,” Pete ordered urgently.
Realistically, Patrick was in no fit state to race after his friend in a bid for freedom, but he had little choice. Stiff, sore and hungry, Patrick reeled from the shock of being able to move again, but knew that the luxury of a reaction would have to wait. Racing after Pete as he headed out of the building, Patrick was barely coherent, simply acting on instinct. Four floors above them, the escape attempt suddenly registered on Beckett's internal radar. Keeping himself linked to Patrick to block his efforts to contact Pete for help, Beckett suddenly became aware that the young vampire was free of the vault. Looking through Patrick's eyes, he could see one of the corridors, he could see…
“Peter!” Beckett suddenly yelled, his voice dripping with venom and hatred.
“Here?” Mike quizzed the sudden reaction.
“He's freed Patrick!” Beckett fumed. “Find them!” he screamed manhandling Mike and shoving him towards the door.
As Mike ran through the door, he encountered Brendon returning from depositing Andrea back near her desk.
“What's going on?” he asked urgently, stopping Mike in his tracks.
“Wentz!” Mike explained simply. “He's freed Stump. We have to stop them!”
“Where are they?” Brendon asked hurriedly.
“I don't know!” Mike replied as he dragged Brendon along with him. “Master William saw them… sensed them… I don't know!”
“Return to me,” a calm voice sounded in both their heads. “They have escaped. But do not worry, we still have our plans to make them suffer. Let them have this victory, it will just be all the sweeter when we destroy them.”
*
Patrick pressed himself up against the bark of a wide old tree somewhere in the centre of some relatively nearby parkland. If he had still been alive, he would have been breathing hard by now and he was a little, but more out of a reaction to adrenaline than out of need.
“Thanks,” he finally managed.
“That's okay,” Pete replied absently as he paced back and forth. Moments later he turned sharply. “I've solved your problem… I need you to help me with mine.”
Unable to raise his eyes to meet Patrick's Pete kept them lowered as he shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Patrick regarded him, realising from his demeanour that something was seriously wrong. Moving forward, Patrick placed a hand on Pete's arm comfortingly only to gasp in shock as his friend recoiled appearing to turn even further in on himself.
“What's wrong, Pete?” Patrick finally asked, keeping his tone even and gentle.
“You… you can't tell the others,” he replied, suddenly agitated and nervous.
“O…kay…” Patrick wasn't totally sure if he could keep the promise but needed to say something.
“I'm serious, Trick, you can't tell them… they'd kill me…” he finally admitted as he turned his back on Patrick, no longer able to look at him.
Patrick took a deep breath. Pete wasn't given to melodrama, if he thought they might kill him, then he knew something serious must be wrong. But what? He was a vampire! What could be more serious than that?
“What is it, Pete? What have you done?” Patrick tried to keep his voice non-judgemental.
“It's not what I've done… well, no… it is… but it's what I'm still doing.”
“Tell me, Pete,” Patrick tried a comforting approach again, this time placing his palm on Pete's back, forcing himself not to pull away as Pete stiffened at the touch.
“I'm addicted… to human blood,” he finally admitted, the pain in his voice more than apparent.
“This is because of me?” Patrick asked quietly.
“No,” Pete replied darkly. “It's because of Beckett.”
“But it was my blood?”
“Yeah,” Pete gave a resigned sigh.
“Have you had more?” Patrick asked, uncertain whether Pete would continue to share the details now.
“Yeah,” he whispered, barely audible to human ears, but loud enough for Patrick to hear.
“Are you killing?” Patrick tried hard not to sound shocked, but the answer Pete gave would determine his own reaction.
“Yeah,” Pete replied almost too low for even Patrick to hear. “Help me, Patrick… please help me.”
Pete dropped to his knees sobbing at the memory of the man he had only that night held in his grip as he sunk his fangs into his neck. He remembered everything, the hunt, the struggle, the soft popping sound and the sensation as he pierced the man's skin. But most of all, he remembered the sweet warm blood flowing over his tongue. The richness of the iron and copper tinged viscous fluid, heady with fear and adrenaline.
“Pete!” Patrick threw his arms around him as he pulled him close, shaking in his arms. “We'll get you off this, somehow, we'll sort it out. I found you the right blend before, didn't I? I can…”
“I can't keep that down any more,” Pete admitted his voice tight with guilt. “I can't drink it, Trick. I've tried so hard, but it won't stay in me! I even tried some variations, but Spencer said I'll never get off it.”
“Spencer!” Patrick gasped at the revelation.
“He's alive,” Pete sighed. “He wants to get even with Beckett too.”
“He can't be trusted!” Patrick insisted. “Not over Beckett and not over this! We can… no! We will fix this, Pete! We will!”
Dropping his head into the hollow between Patrick's neck and shoulder, Pete dissolved once more into floods of tears as Patrick pulled him close. Remembering when he had first returned from Beckett's, Patrick recalled that Pete had been a wreck then too, terrified that they would kill him, sharing information only when he had convinced himself it was safe to do so. Patrick's mind went blank as he tried to consider how he would resolve Pete's latest problem. It seemed impossible, but somehow he had to find a way - he had a promise to keep.
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