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RS/Served My Time In Hell
Aug. 16th, 2014 08:32 pmDrake finds himself in Limehouse, down by the docks, the last place he wants to be in this godforsaken city.
He wants to be at home, with Homer, tucking into one of Mrs Ramsay's famous dinners and a drop of strong stuff before taking his fancy surgeon up to bed. That's a reunion that's been a long time coming, both of them working all hours of the day and night. But it seems he's to be denied yet again.
Instead, he's following a tip down to the warehouses, where smugglers are stashing a new shipment of opium, ready to flood his streets with despair. And Bennet won't stand for it.
He has officers surrounding the building, batons in hand, but he wishes he had his Captain's pistol at his side right now.
Drake makes his approach alone. Slowly, slowly...
They rush at him like wild animals, swords and torches, metal and heat-
They come for him at night, in the desert.
The demons come for him.
He fights, casting aside the useless club for a dead man's sword. Thrusting at him, hacking at them all, desperate to keep his life. To prove he's a soldier worthy of his Goddess and his country.
But there are too many of them, their blood soaking through his thin uniform.
They say they are friends, comrades, but they are demons.
They are all bloody demons.
But they are too many and the sword is wrenched from his hands, many arms pinning him to the ground, and he cries out in Arabic for them to stop, forgive him, let him keep his soul.
And then he knows no more.
He wants to be at home, with Homer, tucking into one of Mrs Ramsay's famous dinners and a drop of strong stuff before taking his fancy surgeon up to bed. That's a reunion that's been a long time coming, both of them working all hours of the day and night. But it seems he's to be denied yet again.
Instead, he's following a tip down to the warehouses, where smugglers are stashing a new shipment of opium, ready to flood his streets with despair. And Bennet won't stand for it.
He has officers surrounding the building, batons in hand, but he wishes he had his Captain's pistol at his side right now.
Drake makes his approach alone. Slowly, slowly...
They rush at him like wild animals, swords and torches, metal and heat-
They come for him at night, in the desert.
The demons come for him.
He fights, casting aside the useless club for a dead man's sword. Thrusting at him, hacking at them all, desperate to keep his life. To prove he's a soldier worthy of his Goddess and his country.
But there are too many of them, their blood soaking through his thin uniform.
They say they are friends, comrades, but they are demons.
They are all bloody demons.
But they are too many and the sword is wrenched from his hands, many arms pinning him to the ground, and he cries out in Arabic for them to stop, forgive him, let him keep his soul.
And then he knows no more.
