Categories > Celebrities > Guns n' Roses > Malakh
It didn't have bars but it had the feeling of a cell. Three cold, stone walls and a thick sheet of Perspex, a little nine by nine box with a way in but no way out.
Izzy pressed himself against the back wall, wings brushing the floor as he tried to make himself look small. His eyes were focused on the heavily fortified door to one side of the clear glass. He'd been dragged along a corridor of similar chambers. All had been empty and Izzy was left with his thoughts and reflection.
Mesa, from what he'd seen, was a cold, cruel place. The tunnels he'd been hauled through stank of death and pain. The smell and feeling had intensified once they'd entered the corridor of cells. It had made Izzy sick and he'd vomited several times before finally being forced into the room he was now in. A bare room with just a metal lavatory, sink and threadbare mattress for company. A harsh light bore down on him, a tiny camera high in one corner, its unblinking eye forever watching him. There was no privacy, nowhere to hide. Nowhere to cry. Not that he wanted to show them fear. If he did that then they'd know that they'd won. Whoever "they" were. So far, the only faces he'd seen had been those of the men who'd forced him into this chamber and, as far as faces went, they were unrecognisable and unemotional. The faces of government trained and battle hardened men.
In the corridor and out of sight, Izzy could hear two voices begin to talk.
"How are we going to kill it?" a woman's voice asked.
A husky voice, that of a smoker, replied, "Dunno. Bullet to the base of the neck?"
Izzy's eyes widened and he felt the bile rise as he realised that two women were plotting his demise.
"I wouldn't mind it in one piece. I want to see what made this one harder, faster and stronger than the others. I want to know how it survived."
"Fine. Gas it?" Smoker asked.
"No. Screws with the body's make up."
"Electrocute it?"
"Fuck NO!" howled Voice One.
"Hang it?"
The was a pause; Voice One was obviously thinking. "You might be onto something there. Just don't decapitate it okay? Restrain its wings, break its neck and bring it to me."
He could hear Smoker tapping a pen against something. "One problem."
"What?" There was a sigh. "Don't tell me you're going soft and want to keep the fucking thing?"
"Shit, no. We've got no gallows..." Smoker's voice tailed off.
"How about that spare silo?" enquired Voice One. "They're not loading it up for another couple of weeks. May as well make use of it."
"Finally." Izzy could practically hear the venom dripping from Smoker's mouth. "I get to have some fun."
~~~~
Slash lay on the bed, a bottle of Jack beside his head and a feather gripped in his fingers. He turned it this way and that, examining it, watching the dying sunlight dance off the flecks of gold. It was the one physical thing he had to tie him to Izzy. There were no photos, only a few clothes and a mountain of scrap paper that Izzy had spent hours doodling on. But the feather, it was the only thing that had come from Izzy.
It was nearly twenty-four hours since Izzy had been so cruelly taken from him and all he'd done was drink and cry. Drink and cry for twenty-four solid hours. Slash knew of no other way out. Whoever had taken Izzy probably had him hidden away somewhere. Slash was sure the next time he'd see his beautiful angel was on TV or in the newspapers, being paraded by some supposedly God-fearing man.
Taking a swig from the bottle, Slash ran the feather down his face, savouring the softness and the faint smell of Izzy. It had smelt stronger when he'd found it and he knew that, within a few days, the smell would fade, leaving him with only the feather. A knock at the door forced him to sit up.
"Fuck off!" he yelled.
"Slash, man, it's me, Stevie," came an excited voice.
Slash sighed. He really wasn't in the mood for company but it was Steven. They hadn't seen each other for months and, as ditzy as he could be, Steven occasionally had good ideas.
"Door's open, dude. Just push it."
The door swung open and the perpetually smiley Steven walked in. His smile, however, faded a little when he saw the tear-stained face of Slash. Crashing on to the mattress, he wrapped an arm tightly around Slash, forcing the curly-haired man's head to his shoulder.
"What's wrong?" he asked before looking into Slash's wide, tear-stained, eyes. "Oh, woman trouble?"
"You could say that," replied Slash, quietly. "Except it wasn't a woman."
"What then?" Confusion flooded Steven's blue eyes. "I haven't seen you this upset since... well... the last time."
A lone tear slid down Slash's already damp cheek. "Izzy's gone."
Steven stared at him, face screwed up. "Dude, I don't know any Izzys, so I can't help you. But I've been away so you're gonna have to fill me in on what this girl's done to you."
Slash just stared, heart breaking, before whispering, "Izzy was a guy."
"Oh." The frown was replaced by a smile. "Oh. So you fucked him and now he's fucked you over? Well done Slash." Steven patted him on the shoulder, grinning. "You've been screwed over and you're too scared to tell anyone because of what they'll think, right?"
Slash's face fell, setting itself into a glare. "It wasn't like that."
"What was it like then?" Steven cocked an eyebrow. "You normally chase pussy, but you switched to cock and now you don't want anyone to know."
Slash shook his head, his hair falling back into his eyes as he took a swig of the Jack. It was a tough call. Either way, Steven was going to laugh at him. It didn't matter if Steven had sucked cock. According to the fluffy blond, he'd done it for money to guy drugs and cigarettes, so that was okay. Doing it for pleasure, apparently wasn't. Taking a deep breath and another slug of JD, he turned back to Steven and began to explain the events of the past few weeks.
~~~~
They'd come for him again. The guards with their straps, collar and poles. This time they'd brought shields and padding, presumably to protect themselves from him. He'd fought tooth and nail, trying to keep them away. He'd screamed and howled, scratched and hit, knowing exactly what they were going to do. But it didn't matter how strong he was or how hard he hit, they'd still managed to tie him up and drag him out.
And now he walked, along deserted tunnels and into elevators, forced along by the poles at his neck. His wings and arms were tightly pinioned behind his back, the muscles tense with fear and pain. Izzy had no idea how close they were to the silo. There were no signs and no-one walking behind him gave any indication.
He was pushed towards a set of sliding doors. As they approached, the doors slid open, revealing an elevator. It looked like any other elevator he'd been in, except his gut instinct told him that this would be the last one he ever saw. With a snarling howl, Izzy threw himself around, trying to get back down the tunnel and away. Behind him, he felt the guards hands slip on the poles. A volley of verbal abuse followed him as the men dug their feet into the ground and held on, struggling with the panicking Izzy. He screamed and fought, desperate to live, desperate to escape the ugly confines of the facility.
Fingers slipped beneath the collar and pulled, heaving the spitting Izzy into the elevator as they slammed the button to close the door. Crumpled in the corner, Izzy stared up at them, his lip split from where his face had connected with the elevator wall. Snarling at them, he spat blood on the floor, eyes glaring at them, the merchants of death.
The doors slide shut, a tinny voice informing that this was the elevator for ICBM Silo 4. The elevator began to ascend as Izzy licked the blood from his lips.
"Why are you doing this?" he hissed. "Why are you killing an innocent person?"
No response, just three identical stares. Three identical soldiers, dressed in identical uniforms, with identical sunglasses and haircuts.
Izzy grinned, sneering at them, provoking them. "I bet you're clones, aren't you? Did the government create you to be the perfect fighting machines, huh?"
He was rewarded with a jackboot to his jaw, his head snapping into the metal wall, a sharp pain cracking through his face. Painfully, Izzy turned his head back to them, hair streaking his blood splattered face, the twisted smile still on his lips.
"Come on then," he scornfully hissed. "You can do better than that. What better way to be remembered than by killing the freaky angel boy. You fuckin' brain-dead morons."
CRACK! Izzy laughed as the boot again connected with his face, flattening his cheekbone and nose into the cold wall.
The elevator clunked and came to a stop, the doors hissing open. Izzy was still laughing as he was forced out, the men pushing him from behind.
His laughter soon quietened as he surveyed the scene. A few lights sparsely lit the top of the massive silo. A metal walkway revolved around the top before extending out into the void. An expertly tied noose dangled above the darkness, the drop a long way below it. The bright lights seemed to illuminate the rope, seemed to pick out every individual coil. Izzy's breathing became rapid, his chest rising and falling as he was pushed out along the walkway, his footsteps echoing into nothing. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a woman standing beside a control panel, her hand on a key. Izzy's terrified face stared at her, pleading with her to reconsider. Her, the bearer of life and now a purveyor of death.
A click and the collar was released, only to be quickly replaced by the scratchy rope of the noose. Hands quickly tightened it, roughly pushing the knot under his left ear. Izzy choked, coughing up bile and blood as it throttled him. Panting, he looked down, watching as drops of sweat and bloody saliva fell away into the darkness. It was a long way down and they only thing that would break his fall would also break his neck.
There was silence for a moment, silence that was only pierced by Izzy's breathing. He wasn't going to cry. Wasn't going to show that he was weak. Wasn't going to cry for Slash. He couldn't bear to about Slash. What would he think if he found out that Izzy's last few moments had been spent crying and begging? Slash would want him to be strong, want him to die with dignity. But, no matter what he thought, Izzy knew that Slash wouldn't want him to die at all.
Something clicked and with a jolt, the walkway began to slowly retract, pulling away from beneath Izzy's feet. Snivelling and panting, Izzy took a step back, trying to keep up with moving metal. Trying to prolong his life for a second longer.
"Slash," he whispered to himself. "I'll be watching you..."
Again he stepped back and the rope pulled taunt. It was his last step and there was nowhere else to go but down. Izzy felt himself being throttled, his eyes starting to bulge from their sockets. One foot slipped away from beneath him, dangling over the edge. Izzy screamed, a scream that had been boiling away but which he hadn't wanted to let out. He didn't want to die! The walkway carried on slowly moving backwards, Izzy's legs splayed apart as he desperately tried to hold on.
Suddenly, the walkway shuddered to a halt and a hand grabbed the waistband of Izzy's trousers, holding on tightly.
"Emergency shut-down of ICBM Silo 4 initiated!" a metallic sounding voice echoed around him.
"Get the walkway out!" a human voice screamed. "Get it out! Get it out! Get it out!"
The walkway began to move back out over the dark silo, the hand guiding Izzy's feet back to stability. Another hand joined the one on his trousers, while others reached above him, releasing the noose. One arm wrapped tightly around his waist as the noose was pushed back out over the abyss.
"I've got you," a voice whispered in his ear. "Walk backwards and don't look down."
Shaking with fear, Izzy did as he was told, taking one small step after the other until he found himself safely against a wall. Hands turned him to face the bricks before gently undoing the straps, letting them fall away as he arched his arms and wings. He turned and slid down the wall, wide, terrified eyes looking around him. Several men, all dressed in the white coats of doctors or scientists, bustled around, getting rid of the uniformed monsters. One, a tall, snowy-haired man, was screaming blue murder at the woman.
"What the HELL do you think you were doing?!" he bellowed.
She dropped her eyes to the metal mesh below her, mumbling something.
"I don't care what the Colonel said!" The white-coated man continued to berate her, hands thrown in the air. "That BOY that you nearly HUNG is part of an important experiment and I want him ALIVE! Whatever the Colonel says IGNORE IT! PM015 is my responsibility NOT his. If you lay another finger on that boy's head." He gestured behind him towards Izzy. "I will personally string you up!"
Izzy felt something twinge in his chest, something warm against the cold hardness of his past treatment within the facility. Whoever had just saved him obviously cared more for him alive than dead.
"Do you have no respect for life?" The man's voice had dropped a little but it still echoed around the silo, letting Izzy eavesdrop on the conversation. "You're a woman, how would you feel if that was your child out there?"
The woman looked up at the white-haired man, eyes stern and her lips curling back.
"Don't talk to me about that," she hissed. "I bore one of those children and it died. It died before I got to see it, before I got to give it a name, before I even got to hold it. Then it was brought here and torn apart. That /freak/." She spat the word, a finger accusingly pointing to Izzy. "Deserves to die."
The man shrugged and turned around, ending the conversation as he walked towards Izzy. Izzy's eyes nervously followed him as the man carefully crouched in front of him, a small smile on his stress lined face.
"Jeffrey," he started, voice soft and comforting. "My name's Dr. Martin. I'm the head of research here at Mesa. I'm sorry about the harsh treatment you've received since your arrival. It wasn't intentional. The Colonel is, if you excuse my French, a bit of an asshole. But you're safe now. You can trust me." He offered a hand to Izzy, helping him to his feet. "Now, if you'd like to follow me, we'll make you a little more comfortable."
Smiling weakly and with an aching body, Izzy quietly followed him.
~~~~
"So let me get this straight." Steven forced the bottle from Slash's hands and took a drink. "Some guy rescues you from a fight, you bring him back here, fuck him and the next morning he has huge angel wings?"
"Correct," replied Slash, hoping that Steven was starting to get it.
"But last night he was kidnapped and now you think that some religious freaks or secret organisation has him?"
"Yes."
Steven laughed, swigging from the bottle of Jack. "Shit, what kind of drugs have you been taking?!"
"STEVEN!" Slash jumped to his feet, infuriated. "Please, for once, can you take something seriously? The one and only person I've ever fallen in love with is gone and I don't know where." He slumped back onto the mattress, exhausted.
He felt Steven lie beside him, blonde hair mixing with his darker curls.
"Slash, man," he whispered. "There's millions of other fishes in the sea."
Slash sniffed, choking up. "Yeah, but he was my angel fish."
"Okay, okay," sighed Steven. "If he means that much, we'll start looking for him tomorrow."
Rolling over, Slash found himself nose to nose with Steven. The blue eyes were soft, seeming to understand, at some level, the pain Slash was going through.
Smiling weakly, he clapped a hand to the drummer's shoulder. "Thanks."
Izzy pressed himself against the back wall, wings brushing the floor as he tried to make himself look small. His eyes were focused on the heavily fortified door to one side of the clear glass. He'd been dragged along a corridor of similar chambers. All had been empty and Izzy was left with his thoughts and reflection.
Mesa, from what he'd seen, was a cold, cruel place. The tunnels he'd been hauled through stank of death and pain. The smell and feeling had intensified once they'd entered the corridor of cells. It had made Izzy sick and he'd vomited several times before finally being forced into the room he was now in. A bare room with just a metal lavatory, sink and threadbare mattress for company. A harsh light bore down on him, a tiny camera high in one corner, its unblinking eye forever watching him. There was no privacy, nowhere to hide. Nowhere to cry. Not that he wanted to show them fear. If he did that then they'd know that they'd won. Whoever "they" were. So far, the only faces he'd seen had been those of the men who'd forced him into this chamber and, as far as faces went, they were unrecognisable and unemotional. The faces of government trained and battle hardened men.
In the corridor and out of sight, Izzy could hear two voices begin to talk.
"How are we going to kill it?" a woman's voice asked.
A husky voice, that of a smoker, replied, "Dunno. Bullet to the base of the neck?"
Izzy's eyes widened and he felt the bile rise as he realised that two women were plotting his demise.
"I wouldn't mind it in one piece. I want to see what made this one harder, faster and stronger than the others. I want to know how it survived."
"Fine. Gas it?" Smoker asked.
"No. Screws with the body's make up."
"Electrocute it?"
"Fuck NO!" howled Voice One.
"Hang it?"
The was a pause; Voice One was obviously thinking. "You might be onto something there. Just don't decapitate it okay? Restrain its wings, break its neck and bring it to me."
He could hear Smoker tapping a pen against something. "One problem."
"What?" There was a sigh. "Don't tell me you're going soft and want to keep the fucking thing?"
"Shit, no. We've got no gallows..." Smoker's voice tailed off.
"How about that spare silo?" enquired Voice One. "They're not loading it up for another couple of weeks. May as well make use of it."
"Finally." Izzy could practically hear the venom dripping from Smoker's mouth. "I get to have some fun."
~~~~
Slash lay on the bed, a bottle of Jack beside his head and a feather gripped in his fingers. He turned it this way and that, examining it, watching the dying sunlight dance off the flecks of gold. It was the one physical thing he had to tie him to Izzy. There were no photos, only a few clothes and a mountain of scrap paper that Izzy had spent hours doodling on. But the feather, it was the only thing that had come from Izzy.
It was nearly twenty-four hours since Izzy had been so cruelly taken from him and all he'd done was drink and cry. Drink and cry for twenty-four solid hours. Slash knew of no other way out. Whoever had taken Izzy probably had him hidden away somewhere. Slash was sure the next time he'd see his beautiful angel was on TV or in the newspapers, being paraded by some supposedly God-fearing man.
Taking a swig from the bottle, Slash ran the feather down his face, savouring the softness and the faint smell of Izzy. It had smelt stronger when he'd found it and he knew that, within a few days, the smell would fade, leaving him with only the feather. A knock at the door forced him to sit up.
"Fuck off!" he yelled.
"Slash, man, it's me, Stevie," came an excited voice.
Slash sighed. He really wasn't in the mood for company but it was Steven. They hadn't seen each other for months and, as ditzy as he could be, Steven occasionally had good ideas.
"Door's open, dude. Just push it."
The door swung open and the perpetually smiley Steven walked in. His smile, however, faded a little when he saw the tear-stained face of Slash. Crashing on to the mattress, he wrapped an arm tightly around Slash, forcing the curly-haired man's head to his shoulder.
"What's wrong?" he asked before looking into Slash's wide, tear-stained, eyes. "Oh, woman trouble?"
"You could say that," replied Slash, quietly. "Except it wasn't a woman."
"What then?" Confusion flooded Steven's blue eyes. "I haven't seen you this upset since... well... the last time."
A lone tear slid down Slash's already damp cheek. "Izzy's gone."
Steven stared at him, face screwed up. "Dude, I don't know any Izzys, so I can't help you. But I've been away so you're gonna have to fill me in on what this girl's done to you."
Slash just stared, heart breaking, before whispering, "Izzy was a guy."
"Oh." The frown was replaced by a smile. "Oh. So you fucked him and now he's fucked you over? Well done Slash." Steven patted him on the shoulder, grinning. "You've been screwed over and you're too scared to tell anyone because of what they'll think, right?"
Slash's face fell, setting itself into a glare. "It wasn't like that."
"What was it like then?" Steven cocked an eyebrow. "You normally chase pussy, but you switched to cock and now you don't want anyone to know."
Slash shook his head, his hair falling back into his eyes as he took a swig of the Jack. It was a tough call. Either way, Steven was going to laugh at him. It didn't matter if Steven had sucked cock. According to the fluffy blond, he'd done it for money to guy drugs and cigarettes, so that was okay. Doing it for pleasure, apparently wasn't. Taking a deep breath and another slug of JD, he turned back to Steven and began to explain the events of the past few weeks.
~~~~
They'd come for him again. The guards with their straps, collar and poles. This time they'd brought shields and padding, presumably to protect themselves from him. He'd fought tooth and nail, trying to keep them away. He'd screamed and howled, scratched and hit, knowing exactly what they were going to do. But it didn't matter how strong he was or how hard he hit, they'd still managed to tie him up and drag him out.
And now he walked, along deserted tunnels and into elevators, forced along by the poles at his neck. His wings and arms were tightly pinioned behind his back, the muscles tense with fear and pain. Izzy had no idea how close they were to the silo. There were no signs and no-one walking behind him gave any indication.
He was pushed towards a set of sliding doors. As they approached, the doors slid open, revealing an elevator. It looked like any other elevator he'd been in, except his gut instinct told him that this would be the last one he ever saw. With a snarling howl, Izzy threw himself around, trying to get back down the tunnel and away. Behind him, he felt the guards hands slip on the poles. A volley of verbal abuse followed him as the men dug their feet into the ground and held on, struggling with the panicking Izzy. He screamed and fought, desperate to live, desperate to escape the ugly confines of the facility.
Fingers slipped beneath the collar and pulled, heaving the spitting Izzy into the elevator as they slammed the button to close the door. Crumpled in the corner, Izzy stared up at them, his lip split from where his face had connected with the elevator wall. Snarling at them, he spat blood on the floor, eyes glaring at them, the merchants of death.
The doors slide shut, a tinny voice informing that this was the elevator for ICBM Silo 4. The elevator began to ascend as Izzy licked the blood from his lips.
"Why are you doing this?" he hissed. "Why are you killing an innocent person?"
No response, just three identical stares. Three identical soldiers, dressed in identical uniforms, with identical sunglasses and haircuts.
Izzy grinned, sneering at them, provoking them. "I bet you're clones, aren't you? Did the government create you to be the perfect fighting machines, huh?"
He was rewarded with a jackboot to his jaw, his head snapping into the metal wall, a sharp pain cracking through his face. Painfully, Izzy turned his head back to them, hair streaking his blood splattered face, the twisted smile still on his lips.
"Come on then," he scornfully hissed. "You can do better than that. What better way to be remembered than by killing the freaky angel boy. You fuckin' brain-dead morons."
CRACK! Izzy laughed as the boot again connected with his face, flattening his cheekbone and nose into the cold wall.
The elevator clunked and came to a stop, the doors hissing open. Izzy was still laughing as he was forced out, the men pushing him from behind.
His laughter soon quietened as he surveyed the scene. A few lights sparsely lit the top of the massive silo. A metal walkway revolved around the top before extending out into the void. An expertly tied noose dangled above the darkness, the drop a long way below it. The bright lights seemed to illuminate the rope, seemed to pick out every individual coil. Izzy's breathing became rapid, his chest rising and falling as he was pushed out along the walkway, his footsteps echoing into nothing. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a woman standing beside a control panel, her hand on a key. Izzy's terrified face stared at her, pleading with her to reconsider. Her, the bearer of life and now a purveyor of death.
A click and the collar was released, only to be quickly replaced by the scratchy rope of the noose. Hands quickly tightened it, roughly pushing the knot under his left ear. Izzy choked, coughing up bile and blood as it throttled him. Panting, he looked down, watching as drops of sweat and bloody saliva fell away into the darkness. It was a long way down and they only thing that would break his fall would also break his neck.
There was silence for a moment, silence that was only pierced by Izzy's breathing. He wasn't going to cry. Wasn't going to show that he was weak. Wasn't going to cry for Slash. He couldn't bear to about Slash. What would he think if he found out that Izzy's last few moments had been spent crying and begging? Slash would want him to be strong, want him to die with dignity. But, no matter what he thought, Izzy knew that Slash wouldn't want him to die at all.
Something clicked and with a jolt, the walkway began to slowly retract, pulling away from beneath Izzy's feet. Snivelling and panting, Izzy took a step back, trying to keep up with moving metal. Trying to prolong his life for a second longer.
"Slash," he whispered to himself. "I'll be watching you..."
Again he stepped back and the rope pulled taunt. It was his last step and there was nowhere else to go but down. Izzy felt himself being throttled, his eyes starting to bulge from their sockets. One foot slipped away from beneath him, dangling over the edge. Izzy screamed, a scream that had been boiling away but which he hadn't wanted to let out. He didn't want to die! The walkway carried on slowly moving backwards, Izzy's legs splayed apart as he desperately tried to hold on.
Suddenly, the walkway shuddered to a halt and a hand grabbed the waistband of Izzy's trousers, holding on tightly.
"Emergency shut-down of ICBM Silo 4 initiated!" a metallic sounding voice echoed around him.
"Get the walkway out!" a human voice screamed. "Get it out! Get it out! Get it out!"
The walkway began to move back out over the dark silo, the hand guiding Izzy's feet back to stability. Another hand joined the one on his trousers, while others reached above him, releasing the noose. One arm wrapped tightly around his waist as the noose was pushed back out over the abyss.
"I've got you," a voice whispered in his ear. "Walk backwards and don't look down."
Shaking with fear, Izzy did as he was told, taking one small step after the other until he found himself safely against a wall. Hands turned him to face the bricks before gently undoing the straps, letting them fall away as he arched his arms and wings. He turned and slid down the wall, wide, terrified eyes looking around him. Several men, all dressed in the white coats of doctors or scientists, bustled around, getting rid of the uniformed monsters. One, a tall, snowy-haired man, was screaming blue murder at the woman.
"What the HELL do you think you were doing?!" he bellowed.
She dropped her eyes to the metal mesh below her, mumbling something.
"I don't care what the Colonel said!" The white-coated man continued to berate her, hands thrown in the air. "That BOY that you nearly HUNG is part of an important experiment and I want him ALIVE! Whatever the Colonel says IGNORE IT! PM015 is my responsibility NOT his. If you lay another finger on that boy's head." He gestured behind him towards Izzy. "I will personally string you up!"
Izzy felt something twinge in his chest, something warm against the cold hardness of his past treatment within the facility. Whoever had just saved him obviously cared more for him alive than dead.
"Do you have no respect for life?" The man's voice had dropped a little but it still echoed around the silo, letting Izzy eavesdrop on the conversation. "You're a woman, how would you feel if that was your child out there?"
The woman looked up at the white-haired man, eyes stern and her lips curling back.
"Don't talk to me about that," she hissed. "I bore one of those children and it died. It died before I got to see it, before I got to give it a name, before I even got to hold it. Then it was brought here and torn apart. That /freak/." She spat the word, a finger accusingly pointing to Izzy. "Deserves to die."
The man shrugged and turned around, ending the conversation as he walked towards Izzy. Izzy's eyes nervously followed him as the man carefully crouched in front of him, a small smile on his stress lined face.
"Jeffrey," he started, voice soft and comforting. "My name's Dr. Martin. I'm the head of research here at Mesa. I'm sorry about the harsh treatment you've received since your arrival. It wasn't intentional. The Colonel is, if you excuse my French, a bit of an asshole. But you're safe now. You can trust me." He offered a hand to Izzy, helping him to his feet. "Now, if you'd like to follow me, we'll make you a little more comfortable."
Smiling weakly and with an aching body, Izzy quietly followed him.
~~~~
"So let me get this straight." Steven forced the bottle from Slash's hands and took a drink. "Some guy rescues you from a fight, you bring him back here, fuck him and the next morning he has huge angel wings?"
"Correct," replied Slash, hoping that Steven was starting to get it.
"But last night he was kidnapped and now you think that some religious freaks or secret organisation has him?"
"Yes."
Steven laughed, swigging from the bottle of Jack. "Shit, what kind of drugs have you been taking?!"
"STEVEN!" Slash jumped to his feet, infuriated. "Please, for once, can you take something seriously? The one and only person I've ever fallen in love with is gone and I don't know where." He slumped back onto the mattress, exhausted.
He felt Steven lie beside him, blonde hair mixing with his darker curls.
"Slash, man," he whispered. "There's millions of other fishes in the sea."
Slash sniffed, choking up. "Yeah, but he was my angel fish."
"Okay, okay," sighed Steven. "If he means that much, we'll start looking for him tomorrow."
Rolling over, Slash found himself nose to nose with Steven. The blue eyes were soft, seeming to understand, at some level, the pain Slash was going through.
Smiling weakly, he clapped a hand to the drummer's shoulder. "Thanks."
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