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"Alternative Directions: Options "Written By: Karina Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the lovely
boys and their girls in the series. Wish I did. Please don't sue me.
I haven't even got a brass razoo to give you. Rating: Deffinately PG in Australia, at the moment,
but probably safer to say R for later chapters. Not sure about international
ratings Warnings: It will be 6x2, even though it does
not start out that way. After all, Zechs and Duo never met in Gundam
Wing and only spoke briefly over a com line in Endless Waltz. I've
tried to keep them in character as I saw them in the series. A bit
of language creeping in under stressful conditions. Pairings: eventual 6x2, past 2xH, 2+H,6x9, 1+R
Summary: Directions is set post Endless Waltz
and roughly 2 years have passed. Zechs and Noin are on Mars and Duo,
after spending some time with Hilde in a relationship leaves L2 to
join Preventers. Hilde was not happy about his decision. I guess enough
said. Here t'is, and I hope you like it. This is also AU for the standard
setting, as well as the series and Endless Waltz. Spoilers: Gundam Wing Series and Endless Waltz Many thanks to Dulin for volunteering to beta this. //... // thoughts
"Alternative Directions: Options"
Mars Colony Base Dome 2nd March AC 198 Time: 01: 44 [approx Sanc time 23:34] Broadham //God. It's been too bloody long since I had to do this kind of shit. // The gun in his hands felt alien to him but he could not deny that its weight was familiar and he watched with a detached awe as his hands checked over the weapon seemingly with a will of their own. Automatic. Frightening proof of the illusion that he was not a Healer but a soldier. What else was he to think when it was clear with the feel of this too solid cold metal in his hand that his body had not forgotten what it was to handle a gun? He shuddered even as the Healer within him screamed in despair and the soldier crawled out of the hole he had been hiding in and sprang to the fore, alert and horrifyingly eager to begin. //I can do this. I will do this. I want to do this. // The thoughts, cold, calculating and firm coming in quick succession, chilled him to the bone but he could not deny the truth of them. //These bastards are slaughtering my patients and my staff and that will not be allowed to continue. // He would not stand by and permit the slaughter to continue. He had long ago given up the killer attitude that had been trained into him in long gone days but it was there, within him and he could not ignore it. He was aware of it and unless he wished to drive himself insane he would not flinch from the undeniable truth of the situation. He found it hard to live with the memories of the blood in his past from his combat days, but he would find it a lot harder living with the newer, fresher blood that resulted from the slaughter of his staff and patients this day. He would welcome back the soldier to ensure that no more of them died and he would not regret. //No more. I can not permit anymore of them to die. // His gaze flicked to where Simpson waited at the door, half crouched, an ear pressed to the panel and his weapon raised and ready. He knew that the man was aware of him and that he was only too aware of the risk that he took in arming a potential enemy. It was dangerous but Simpson struck him as a cold and calculating commander, one who never took action without assessing the risks involved. Simpson was, in effect, the kind of Commander he preferred to serve under during the war as he was more likely to come out of a hairy situation alive. He knew that he could take a chance and use the weapon to shoot the bastard now but such an action was not in his nature. To shoot a man in the back was, to his mind the greatest cowardice and anyway, he knew Simpson's kind only too well. Every argument fore and against would have been weighed and judged in a few brief seconds. Simpson knew the dangers as well as he did and they both were only too aware of one simple thing. For this hunt they were on the same side. //For this purpose we are on the same side but that is about as far as it goes. You want to get the killer of your people and I want to stop the bastard from killing any more of mine. One goal will form a tie for this fight, but after that … // He could only hope that it would not come down to a confrontation between them when they had dealt with the killer and had time enough on their hands to remember the enmity they felt for each other. His life alone did not hang in the balance here and he must always keep the lives of others in mind. Simpson had a set agenda from which he would not waver and when the time was right they were all to be eliminated. When the time was right. Key words and he needed to get his attention back where it belonged. // Have to remember that this bastard might not even be in the nursery. We don't know who it is or where they might consider safe to lie low or even if they would choose to back off and stay quiet for a time. The bodies were fresh. All too fresh. Whoever did that … butchery … had to be covered in blood after it and there were no bloody footsteps in the hallway. Likewise there have been no bloody hand prints on the walls or doors. They could be anywhere. // Merquise had taken out one of them. Now there was at least a second loose in the medical center. Might there not be more? Simpson glanced at him, eyes cold and hard and the question did not need to be spoken to be understood. Was he ready to go in? He would by far have preferred to be very far from here but that was simply not an option and he nodded, short sharp and determined. He knew himself to be as ready as he was going to be and to delay longer placed unnecessary risk on lives he was responsible for. The Healer within him cringed in a dark corner of his mind and the soldier pushed forward, influencing fingers to curl around the gun and a cold clarity descended on him. He forced his breathing to calm and controlled order. Panicking would serve no purpose other than to get himself and possibly Simpson hurt, neither being a desirable result at this time. //It's been too bloody long. // "Stay close." Simpson inclined his head to the door. "What is beyond the door?" Floor plan. Simpson wanted to know the lay of the land in as detailed a fashion as possible without hanging them up here while he drew detailed maps. He drew a calm breath and called to mind the makeshift maternity ward they had needed to construct. "The door opens into a small reception room that has two doors leading from it. The left door leads to the mothers ward and the right in the wall directly opposite this door leads to the nursery proper. There is a desk, a couple of chairs, coffee unit and couch in the reception room." He made short hand signals that gave a rough placement to each named feature he mentioned in the room and caught Simpson's nod. "Visibility from the other rooms?" "None from the mothers ward. There is a glass panel allowing a view into the nursery from the reception lounge and there should be one nurse on duty at this time. If she is not in the first room she could be checking on the two women in the mothers ward or in with the babies in the nursery." If the nurse was not in the lounge … The thought was simply too horrible to contemplate that the worst might already have happened. He refused to consider that he was going into another chamber of horrors. //God. Surely the bastards would not kill the children? No. No surely they are not that sick but if I really thought that would I be standing here panicking over the very thought? I'm dealing with a very sick individual or individuals here and who knows exactly what they are capable of? If they did that butchery to sedated patients then why the hell would they not do the same to infants?// He felt ill just thinking about it. Simpson seemed to consider the door for a long moment, no doubt his thoughts running parallel to Broadham's own musings. "Nursery first." He knew then without doubt that the agent had been wondering the same thing that he had been and had decided not to chance it. Was it simply human concern for the young and helpless or was it more sinister? Did Simpson suspect that Merquise's children might be in there? Broadham supposed that it was possible the infants might have been brought to the nursery though to his knowledge they would have been … should have been in the crèche or with their mother. He scowled considering what he had been told by Haydon Giles. Noin was supposedly in the shuttle bay in a coma and certainly was not with her children. Was the crèche still secure? If these people were here to secure the children then surely the first place they would have gone to would have been the makeshift crèche they had provided for the children's care. He could not know and neither could Simpson know with any certainty unless the man had already secured the children with his own people and Broadham did not think that that was the case. Certainly if the man's mission could mean the lives of the children in the nursery then he was not going to mention that the twins were considered to be too old for this ward. // It is possible that the children might have been sent here for safety until this mess is ended. No, I won't be mentioning that to him.// "Try not to shoot your own people." // If I have anything to say about it I will not be shooting anyone. // He kept the thought to himself and snapped his attention back to Simpson as the man pushed the door open and rushed the foyer. Heart pounding he stepped through the door and covered left as Simpson swept the barrel of his automatic across the room from right to left. He had hoped to hear a startled scream or exclamation from the nurse at their dramatics but the room remained silent. His eyes flicked over the empty armchair, the closed door to the mothers ward, the nurse's desk and finally to the couch and coffee machine on the far side. Nothing. It all looked disturbingly normal, frighteningly empty, but normal none the less. The doors leading from the reception lounge to the mothers ward and the nursery were closed and after a moment of silence he flicked his gaze to Simpson who was looking from one door to the other but was already moving to the glass partition that looked into the nursery. He did not miss Simpson's glare at the light clearly illuminating them to anyone who might be in the nursery. No one moved within the dimly lighted room that he could see. Sweeping a glance over the nurses desk he noted nothing out of place and moved to join the agent, continually scanning between the two doors as he did so, afraid that they would be disturbed. His scowl grew to match Simpson's when he realized that the only light within the nursery was the light that spilled through the glass partition from the lounge and he hissed softly at Simpson to gain his attention. "There should be a night light on." he whispered. Simpson seemed to grow larger though Broadham swore he had not actually moved. An air of menace always generated from the man but now it was something more. A finger flicked to the doorway. "Is this the only way in?" He nodded a confirmation that indeed it was the only entrance to the nursery. The medical center had never been intended for natal care but when the need arose they had acted quickly to renovate the little used office space and cut the doorway into the next two bed wards. That ward had become the mothers ward of the new natal unit and the nursery itself had begun life as a major store room. The lounge come nurses station had originally been the store's office which had been moved into the surgical unit after due consultation to make room for the three room ward. The Alpha Dome boasted a proper hospital with full maternity capabilities which was only months away from completion but this small unit had been sufficient for their limited needs. There was light within the nursery but beyond the patch where the light from the office fell there was deep shadow and within the shadow only vague shapes and suggestions of shapes. He stared hard into the darkness and thought he could just make out the locked cabinet where medicines were stored and perhaps the corner edge of the old desk they had converted to a change station. In full view of the window and bathed in the light of the lounge was the two tiny beds where the infants slept and as he stared at them one of the children moved. Just a faint twitch of tiny fingers and small sucking movement of fine lips but it was enough to set his heart beating once again. Simpson exhaled nodding slightly at that small flicker of life though he seemed to be peering into the shadows and had not relaxed at all. The one thing that was obvious to both men was that there was no evidence of blood, guts or gore in the nursery. "We check the ward." Simpson slipped past him to the door and opened it just a crack, pressing his ear to the gap and straining to detect any sound. After a long moment of silence and stillness he was moving again, pushing the door open and slipped around the door frame and into the darkest part of the ward. Broadham hesitated, uncertain for a moment if he should move into the ward as back up for Simpson or wait. The nursery was not overly large once they had stuffed it full of every convenience for the care of infants that they could manage and he did not want to get in Simpson's way if there was trouble but he was unwilling to leave the man's back uncovered. Despite all of their differences they were at this time allies and they needed to cover each other's backs. Somewhere nearby, whether in this ward or elsewhere there was a seriously disturbed murderer running around his medical center and he would not wish that anyone meet that individual without backup. Even Simpson. With a small huffed breath Broadham slipped around the doorframe. Simpson ghosted through the small ward, checking every possible hiding place before moving to the cots and peering at each infant. As he came up to him Broadham noted that Simpson read each name taped to the cots carefully, identifying the children beyond any doubt. A faint nod seemed to settle matters for the man and then he peered through the glass partition back into the reception office. "Not very old." Simpson breathed, motioning to the cots, eyes still firmly on the other room. "The youngest was born only two days ago. The elder is now five days old." The agent nodded and after a moment moved to the door, motioning Broadham to take his place at the window. "Time to tackle the mothers ward. Watch as I go in then move to the doorway and keep watch on the door back into the hallway. If the killer is still about he or she may not have reached as far as the nursery yet and I don't want any nasty surprises." He signaled his understanding and slipped quietly into position where he had a good view of the room and motioned the all clear to Simpson who slipped back into the office and ghosted quickly to the door leading into the mothers ward. The man knelt at the door, ear pressed to the panel and he found himself holding his breath. Where was this killer lurking? Had they passed a room where that monster waited, dreaming up more sick torture for his victims? His, he mused. Influence from what he had witnessed in the hallway as Merquise took out the bastard but he admitted that they might well be hunting a female at this time. Only discovery would settle who it was who had butchered those helpless women. He shifted his shoulders uneasily, certain that there were hostile eyes centred on his back and his gaze flicked over the darkened areas, uneasy. He told himself he was being ridiculous. He and Simpson both had checked out the nursery and deemed it to be secure. The babies slept near him in blissful innocence and the door to the hallway from the nurses station remained closed. Again he glanced around the nursery and still the room remained safely unremarkable. //Shit. It's been too long. I'm getting spooked by nothing. // It had been a long time since he had felt this particular type of tension. Too long since he had felt that his life hung on a thread and he was not sorry for that. He preferred the days of peace when he did not constantly have to look over his shoulder wondering if he would be alive at sunset. Wondering how many lives that belonged to the people he knew would be snuffed out like candle flames in a wind. He never wanted to feel this again. The soldier within him could go back to his dark corner soon and never rear his head again. Simpson was looking back at him, free hand to the door of the ward and expectant. Once more he glanced around the nursery, trying to dismiss the unease and then flicked to the closed door at Simpson's back and he nodded. He slipped to the nursery door where he took his place, gun clutched tightly in his hand and where he had a clear view of the area and could watch both Simpson and the main door. It would take only seconds for Simpson to check out the mothers ward. Then it would all be over for this extended ward at least but there were other wards to be checked and he wanted this cold blooded killer. The absence of the nurse that was stationed here at all times was worrying and he could only hope that the night nurse had stepped out of the ward for a few minutes and had not fallen foul of the killer. // Anything could have happened. A light bulb might have blown and she might have gone for a replacement. She might have been lured out of the ward by the killer. She might have heard something that drew her away from safety. // He could drive himself mad thinking of the possibilities. He shook his head slightly, disgusted with himself and focused back on Simpson. He was allowing himself to be distracted and that might prove to be a fatal error. He was only going to get himself and Simpson in trouble and if he indeed blundered so badly he would not blame the ESUN agent at all if he turned around and killed him. He would deserve it for such incompetence. Simpson eased the door open, ear pressed to the gap as he listened for any sound from within. Broadham found himself holding his breath and leaning forward on the balls of his feet as he waited for Simpson to explode into action. It seemed to be taking forever for Simpson to go through that door in a rush and then emerge with the all clear. He would go insane waiting for the man to move. When it came it was not the movement he expected. The ESUN Agent half turned, a frown marring his face and holding a hand out toward him in a stay gesture, pointed to himself and then flicked that finger toward the room then lifted the finger to his lips in a clear order for silence. //Oh, God. Something's wrong. He's heard something. // He felt certain that there was going to be bloodshed in seconds and that he was going to be involved in it. At least Simpson was not surging through that door with gun blazing. He might just get the mothers out alive. If the killer had not already completed his grizzly work. He nodded once, sharply and crouched in the doorway, waiting. ----------------- Simpson It was faint but to his heightened senses it was unmistakably the whisper of cloth which suggested to him that someone was moving around in that room. He was not in the best of positions here to tackle a possibly lethal situation and he could only wish that he had his trusted team as back up. Broadham thus far had handled himself creditably, which was something of a surprise. The man had been a civilian for years but he seemed to have forgotten little of his training. Medics, especially field surgeons were not what he considered reliable as under fire companions but the man had done a creditable job thus far. What would be the best course of action now open to him? He did not feel confident enough in Broadham to have him slamming into the room at his back and anyone could walk into the reception lounge at any time. He needed his back guarded and while he was confident in his own abilities he was not so certain about Broadham's ability to function in tight situations. All of which meant he needed to keep Broadham out of the ward and direct action and on watch for intruders into their sphere of operations. As he saw it at the moment he had two options, neither of which was a particular favorite with his current mind set. He could initiate a full out assault, storming into the ward and the most likely scenario from that action would be to set of screaming women panicking at such an entrance. If nothing was wrong in the ward, of course. The second option was for a more discreet entry into the ward and was more to his liking but still not well favored as he had no idea of the lay out of the room. The women who were supposed to be in this ward, presumably sleeping considering the hour of the morning might already be dead and the butcher be going about his grizzly work unknowing of his doom about to fall. It was possible that the killer was only now taking them down, poised to make another grizzly scene and if he rushed in he might spare them the fate of his two sedated team members. He could not prevaricate for long, as every second worked against him and for the murderer to strike again and he dearly wanted to get his hands on that bastard. A hard and fast entry acknowledging that the women were likely to be dead or a more careful stalking approach that might give him the opportunity to get his hands around that slimy bastard's neck? Assuming that the killer was actually in the ward. //Fucking stupid situation. Here I am sneaking around trying to save the lives of people I have no choice other than to kill over the next two days. Christ. This whole thing is sick. // Sick or not he had to make a decision. He half turned to Broadham, motioned him to stay back, indicated that he was going to be entering the room by a flick of a finger and that he wanted silence. The surgeon nodded his understanding, eyes sweeping to the main door of the suite of rooms once again. Pleased with the man's apparent level of attention Simpson then speared a finger decisively at the light overhead, sweeping the finger across his throat. Broadham flicked his gaze up to the light and then about the room, located the light switch and with a quick look behind him into the nursery he slipped out of the room, crossed to the far door and flicked off the lights. Simpson resisted the urge to hiss at the plunge into total darkness but he preferred this to the flood of light that was going to precede him and mark him as a clear target once he opened that door. He was hyper aware of the minutest sound and he could follow Broadham's movements back to the nursery. At least the man appeared to have placed the location of the furnishings clearly in his mind as there were no thuds or bumps and thankfully no curses to alert whoever waited in that ward. Through the doorway a thin line of dim light now spilled made visible by the darkness of the office. It was a dim glow that suggested a low wattage bulb was in use, undoubtedly a night light so commonly used on Mars where the absence of windows meant darkness was stygian gloom all over the base. He eased the door open a little more, concentrating, hoping to detect the slightest sound of movement from beyond that would help place anyone within the room. Two mothers and the nurse, Broadham had claimed should be within the ward at this time. Or at least two of the three people. The location of the nurse was thus far in question. She could be out on an errand and he might be dealing with two females who could become hysterical if he went in with guns blazing and there was absolutely nothing wrong. Yet his 'something is very wrong itch' was driving him insane. A low sound, very faint which he identified as the rustle of fabric and this time with it came a muffled sound of something that sounded suspiciously like a whimper. // Not good. // Either someone was prone to having nightmares or there was indeed trouble within the ward. Given the current circumstances he was not going to opt for the nightmare option and he had already wasted enough time. Bracing himself and taking a deep breath he slipped the door open wider thankful the hinges seemed well oiled. Trying to be silent he eased himself forward with the movement of the door using it as cover until he could glimpse the amount of room that was available to him and with a sudden thrust he shoved the door hard and tucked himself into a roll as he propelled himself into the room and away from the door. He came up against the far wall, smoothly rising to his feet, gun drawn and sweeping the room ready for anything to happen. He was already convinced that the ward had been compromised by the killer and he had his proof as his gaze raked over the beds. A moment of silence greeted his entrance and was followed immediately by an assortment of thuds, bumps and rather irate sounding muffled cries as they tried to get his attention. They need not have bothered with the effort as they had that well enough. He wanted this bastard. He wanted him bad. Cambridge and Fannon had been assigned to his team and he wanted an accounting for their deaths. Yes they had been a part of the team on a temporary basis but they had been his responsibility as their commanding officer and their lives had been his to oversee whilst under his command. They had been murdered, butchered while they were helpless and he owed the bastard big time who had taken their lives and he believed in paying his debts. He, she or it had been here and been interrupted. Two women wearing the standard issue sleepwear were trussed securely and lying on the floor. They had been bound and gagged with makeshift ties and he found himself looking directly into horror filled eyes. The eyes of the two women were wide and they were looking at him as though they expected him to slit their throats but he saw sanity return and they began thrashing against their bonds and muffled screaming broke out with renewed strength. From the head gesturing he gathered they realized he was not with their tormentor and one even thrust up with a bound foot to kick against a bed and he could have sworn she was swearing at him. He was not going to move however until he knew for a fact that they were clear. He flicked his gaze over the small ward, for the moment ignoring the low moan that came from the nurse. She was naked, spread-eagle and bound to one of the wards two beds, a cloth in her mouth to muffle her cries and she was lucky, he noted. He had only begun his butchery and already she was bleeding from multiple wounds. She seemed conscious enough and despite the obvious pain she was in and the makeshift gag there was reason behind the muffled sounds she was making and he realized that she was trying to tell him something. His gaze swept the room one more time, seeking sign of the killer. Bloody footsteps marred the floor and curiously seemed to lead to the door he had entered by from the interior of the room and then back to the bed where the nurse was tied. The killer had heard he and Broadham enter the outer room but the pattern of the footsteps disturbed him. How had the bastard entered the room? There had been no indication of bloody footsteps in the hallway outside or in the office or the nursery. After the butchery done on his team members the killer had to be covered in blood and there had been no sign to indicate the direction the killer had taken. No sign to say the man or woman he sought had actually entered the nursery complex but here was the proof that he was on the right track. The killer had been about his grizzly work when he and Broadham had interrupted him and he had gone … where? Again he swept the room aware that precious seconds were passing and his eyes lighted on the door at the far side and he grunted softly, deciding that the killer was probably in the bathroom suite. Cautiously he edged forward, weapon aimed at the bathroom door which seemed the most logical place for the killer to be hiding and he stopped beside the first of the struggling women, kneeling beside her. He swept the room again, his 'something is very wrong' itch was driving him to take particular care in hunting down this maniac. The women were not blindfolded and they were his quickest and most reliable source of confirmation of the killers current location. The bastard would be lurking nearby, just waiting for him to make a mistake and he was not going to err. He dropped a hand to work on the gag, eyes never ceasing to sweep the room for any hint he was about to be rushed or any flicker of movement that might indicate he was about to be knifed or shot. There was plenty of indication the killer was a knife man and knives were quick and silent. If the killer had a gun he expected he would have used it by now. This lunatic had a fondness for knife work. "Where?" He hissed the query at the woman, sparing a quick glance at her as he managed to loosen the pillow case she had been gagged with enough for her to spit out a gasp as she sucked in air. He glared at her, a clear indication he wanted no screaming and he had his hand ready to clamp it over her mouth if she proved to be a screamer. His gaze went back to a careful survey of the room. The bastard was close. He could feel it. "Quietly." "Ceiling!" A venomous hissed against his hand. "The bastard went into the vent. He heard you in the other room and he went into the vent." His gaze shot up to the ceiling vent that fed oxygen into the ward and he swore. The vent was closed and bloody hand prints marked where it had been lifted into place. He would have noticed immediately had the cover been left open and he had wasted precious seconds thinking the killer was still within the ward. The killer had a head start and he resisted the urge to fling himself up at the vent and head off in pursuit. He would be leaving a clear enough blood trail up there to be followed but first he needed back up. It would be a hunt fraught with danger after a killer who was specialist trained at stealth techniques and who was deranged. Not a good combination and for such a hunt he would have preferred Frazier and the man's known skills to Broadham's questionable abilities. There was also the problem of the nurse. If her injuries were severe then Broadham was going to be required as a surgeon and not as his back up. Reaching into his belt sheathe he grasped a not so standard regulation weapon but one he had found had multiple uses and flicked open the switchblade. He sliced through the woman's restraints before pressing the blade into her hands and inclining his head toward the nurse. "Free the others and do what you can for the nurse. Don't leave the room." He spun and stalked toward the door and was only half way to the doorway when he heard a crash from the office. With a muttered curse he threw himself at the door and thrust it wide cursing the darkness of the reception lounge. Babies began to wail and the sound of punches connecting to flesh was clear enough, as was the grunts and curses of Broadham and the malicious hissing of the killer. There was not sufficient light to afford him a decent view of what was going on in the nursery but he could guess and he leapt for the light switch. He wanted to take the killer down, not Broadham. Undoubtedly the bastard had opted to take the nearest access out of the vent system and that would have to have been the nursery. He refused to bewail mistakes now but he should have thought of the nearest exit to the ward. He had actually been trying to keep Broadham out of danger but handy to him should he need back up and instead he had delivered the surgeon to the killer. The bastard did not have it all his own way, however as from the sounds emitting from the nursery Broadham was not going down easily. His searching fingers found the switch and light flooded the office. He was just in time to see Broadham kick the slender, tall man dressed in the black of the security force at the station in the gut. A kick with a lot of force behind it but the man offered only a muffled grunt and the glint of a bloody knife in a vicious sweep at Broadham's face was his response. The man seemed unphased by the blow and there was a gleam in those dark eyes that was clear testimony to the insanity of the man and that cold gleam only brightened as his knife blade sliced a shallow line across the surgeons cheek. // Insane. Totally insane. // Simpson growled, a low deep sound issuing from deep within him that marked him at his most dangerous. Lunging forward his hand closed around the hilt of the knife he wore, the long serrated killing edge of the blade reflected the overhead lights. He wanted that bastard and Broadham was backing away from his assailant but managed to kept himself between the killer and the wailing children. A quick grab at something in the darkness and the clang of metal on metal rang out. Broadham was defending himself with what looked to be a steel basin and the sound of the knife clanging against that meagre defence came in quick echoing peals, the rate of the slashes building as the killer sought to take out Broadham quickly. No doubt the man was only too aware that Simpson was closing on him and was sane enough to want to face only the one opponent. He was at the door to the nursery when the killer abandoned Broadham and began taking notice of the big man baring down on him with an oversized knife in hand. It was a knife meant for business, the business of killing and he was sane enough to recognize the larger threat Simpson dodged an assortment of equipment as it began to fly in his direction. A steel basin, a packet of cotton balls flying out of a metal dispenser as it was hurled through the air at him and through it all with the exception of a guttural snarl the killer remained silent. Teeth bared the ESUN Commander threw himself forward, under the barrage, his knife extended to deflect the first of the slashes from the killers own weapon. Three lightning fast slashes and counters had the man backing away and Simpson was not inclined to let up. Simpson knew he faced a man as skilled with a blade as himself and he was not going to give the murderer any opportunity for a shot at him, choosing to keep the pressure up in a blinding flurry of attacks that were countered with increasing desperation. Sanity seemed to be returning to the killer with the threat of death. The man was flicking his gaze about the room no doubt seeking some advantage or means to get past Simpson and out the door but such opportunities were not about to be forthcoming. Broadham stood between the fighting men and the infants, moving the cribs further from the fight but his eyes were on the struggle taking place and he would not permit the children to be used as hostages. Simpson was content enough with that. While the man kept out of the way he did not have to concern himself with his safety. If he could spare the attention he would tell the surgeon to get his backside into the ward and attend to the nurse but at the moment such was not feasible. He was in no mood to dance with the bastard and pressed him, noting that the movements, each swing of the blade be it in a parry or attack sequence was becoming wilder and predictable. The teeth were bared now and there was a look in those dark eyes that suggested something was about to snap. He waited, biding his time, keeping the pressure up and that knife away from his own hide and he was ready when it came. A single mistake brought on by sheer desperation from a less than sane mind produced a wild swing with the knife which he ducked under and continuing the momentum of his movement he swung a foot out and around as he went down on one knee. He was uninterested in the knife at this time beyond keeping out of its reach and was much more concerned with hitting his actual target. He heard Broadham gasp, no doubt thinking he was about to go down but such was not his intention. He was right on target. With a sharp crack the steel capped boot he wore slammed into the killers knee cap. The man issued a high pitched scream as the bone snapped and Simpson continued using his momentum to complete the turn, his own blade held at the ready, extended and thrusting in a killing blow. He did not care to take prisoners and this bastard deserved death. A gurgling gasp and wheeze marked the moment the blade sank between exposed ribs and into the heart. t.b.c.
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