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Parasite is the third part of The Underground series

Chapter 16 of 29

Milk Cartons

The elderly salamander awoke to the sound of something solid slamming hard against the back door . Her room was closer to the back of the underground establishment. Experiences from the past taught her several things. She had both learned the hard way and paid for it, or she watched as another paid for their ignorance. Which was worse, she could never choose in her mind. However, one of the most important things she learned was always knowing what company you were keeping.

This proved to be difficult when you owned an underground bar.

Naturally, she couldn't be everywhere, seeing everyone and expected to remember everything, this she was aware of. You couldn't be in multiple places, but cameras could. It wasn't long before she had several cameras around her place, bringing a sense of security to The Pitt. She at least wanted to be able to look back and see every face that came into her bar. It was a security that helped her sleep at night.

The feed from the closed circuit cameras went straight into her home. She lived in the back of the old building, which had rooms that still used for the same reason they were used today as they did back a century or two ago. Port towns with sailors naturally attract establishments like hers. Although her current form of income wasn't exactly glamorous, it never went out of style. Slowly she converted two of these decrepit rooms into a comfortable living space. She knew there were always people watching the front door, but it was the back door that was the weaker link. Choosing the room next to the service exit, the salamander wanted to hear anyone come or go from there. And at the time, she thought she was pretty clever in her careful planning. However, it wasn't two weeks into living there before she realized what an absolute pain in the ass it was!

At first she thought the thumping would go away and leave her to fall back asleep, but it didn't go that easy. Again, she heard steady low thumping against the service entrance. It was outside her door, in the hallway that connected to the other rooms, and she could still hear it! Desperate for solace she grabbed her pillow, pressing it down hard on her head, trying to block the sound, again ending in failure. Giving up, her toes hit the cool ground of the wooden floor as she felt her way in the dark; grabbing a silk multicolored robe and throwing it over her thin, slender shoulders.

Walking over to a single tiny monitor, she pulled up a desk chair and flicked the switch. Catching the time on her wall clock she sighed at how late it really was. It justified how tired she felt. She didn't go out a lot. She had no reason to. Her world revolved around her palace beneath the streets. Here she was a goddess among mortals when she was within these walls. All she need do is snap her fingers to end someone's life. It was her sanctuary in the chaos of a war no one cared about or recognized.

Another lesson she learned the hard way was that you can truly only trust yourself. Not that she thought everyone wasn't trustworthy. There were some who were simply more trustworthy than others. Likewise, she didn't advocate the idea of not helping when she could. Again, for some she would simply help more than others. But in the end you relied on one person; yourself. In The Underground only you were responsible for yourself.

"Gods be a-cursing me, I's be swearin' on it..." She grumbled to the darkness of her apartment, waiting for the screen to show her who it was. Again there was the steady banging. "Gods be saved!" She called out, hoping her words would register with whoever the young, eager girl was who was giving some bloke the time of his life. "I's be a-tinkin' you be a-havin' a better place to be a-doin' yer business..."

"...it's not that kind of business, Ethel..." She heard a sharp female voice call back to her, distorted by the doors she had to yell through.

As the monitor slowly came to life, she saw who came into focus, and what they were doing. Whatever sleepiness that was still in her vanished instantly as she shot up, undoing the deadbolt of her door in a haste.

The black fox kept his arm firmly around Jenna, keeping her hoisted on her feet as they waited for Ethel to let them inside. They stood and waited on the steep ramp that acted as the service door for The Pitt. Alias always guessed this lonely door was probably for moving coal into the furnace room back in the early days. Not that it had been used in decades.

He couldn't tell if Jenna had been leaving a blood trail, but at this point it didn't matter. The Mercenary wasn't sure how extensive the gunshot wound was, or if he could patch her up himself with Ethel's help, but anything at this point was better than seeking professional medical assistance. By law, doctors would be required to report the nature of the wound. Having to explain himself to a cop would be more than a little awkward. Alias would rather just avoid the authorities.

On the other hand, Alias wasn't willing to risk Jenna's life. If she really needed more care than what he could give her here, then he'd just have to figure something out. The vixen clung onto him, trying to keep pressure off her leg. Blood trickled down from her wound, clotting along her fur and staining her jeans like she had spilt oil down the front of her pants. She used a paw to press down on the wound with Alias's makeshift bandage scavenged from his coat sleeve. The discoloration of the crimson blood stood in contrast to her dark blue fur of her paw.

Alias was feeling a lot of things right now. Stupidity that he had let the situation get out of control, anger that he had let Jenna get shot, and disgust that this whole situation had been brought about by "the good guys"; thank you creators of the Isis Project. However, what he felt didn't really matter. What mattered was what Jenna was feeling, which was a considerable amount of pain.

"How you feeling?" Alias asked anyway, hearing the door's locks disengage as he held on to Jenna.

Jenna didn't reply for a moment, only breathing in slowly with her face buried in the nape of Alias's neck. "I've... got a hole in my leg..." She whispered weakly.

He could feel the break in her voice like a crack in the middle of a sidewalk; completely apparent, with no apology for its presence. Alias could say he knew Jenna pretty well, and he knew that she was in much more pain than she cared to admit. Maybe it was just her pride that kept her from admitting this, but Alias assumed it was more to do with her trying to remain calm about all this.

There was something very jarring about your first gunshot wound.

The door finally swung open, revealing Ethel standing before them.

"Quickly!" She whispered, ushering them inside.

Prepping his body for what he was to do next, the black fox stooped down, arm wrapping around the back of Jenna's legs. The vixen wasn't ready as Alias hoisted her up, cradling her in his arms. Arms latched around his neck and she kept her head pressed to him, trembling and trying to find a place to process her torment.

Pain had become such a part of Alias's life, he wondered if he could simply sense those who were in pain. It was like he could read the signs and just know when a soul was suffering. As he held the vixen close to him, it was like Alias could feel her pain seeping into him. Only he wished he could absorb all of it for her. Alias wished Jenna never had to go through any of this. Worse, he couldn't help but feel like it was all his fault.

Knowing he couldn't sit around and simply feel sorry for himself, Alias moved quickly through Ethel's small apartment and into her kitchen. The elderly salamander moved around Alias quickly, and in a sweeping motion, Ethel pushed everything off the cluttered table. Papers fluttered to the ground and glasses smashed as they hit the tile. All this was of little concern to them, knowing they had to get Jenna's wound to stop bleeding out. Alias set Jenna gently down on a clear spot on the center of the table, bunching up a dishtowel for her to lay on, then eased her onto her back, allowing her to recline.

"By tha gods!" Alias heard Ethel whisper, shutting and locking her door discretely. "Did I's not be a-tellin' you you be makin' tha world a crazier place, Ah-li-us?" Jenna's eyes followed the salamander from the table as she neared. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Jenna's bloodied leg and saw the nature of the wound. "Ah-li-us." She said firmly. "What happened?"

"No idea! Since when has Downtown ever been hot?" Alias replied in a hurried, but hushed tone. Moving to the sink, he quickly turned on the faucet and ran his arms under the cool water. As he did so, he scrubbed the clotted blood of the greys' out of his fur, then preceded to do the same thing on his face. Ethel watched as the dark blood re-liquified and disappeared down her kitchen sink. Shutting the water off, Alias started scavenging through her kitchen cabinets, searching for what he needed. "I'm picking up a package one second, the next, I'm in the middle of my own fucking warzone!" He replied, not finding what he was looking for. Alias turned to Ethel as she walked over to him, placing his paws on her shoulders. "I need drugs!"

She slowly pointed to her room. "Under tha bed." The black fox was already in that direction before she finished her answer. Alias heard her footsteps as he stooped down next to her bed. He knew she wanted more of an answer.

"They came out of nowhere..." He growled, reaching under the bed, grabbing a small black case. "We picked up something that didn't belong to us!"

"Lordie child..." Ethel said, resting her forehead against her rust colored paw. "How you not be seein' tat a-comin'?"

"Because they were that good." Alias replied, sitting back on his knees, black case in paw. He quickly got to his feet. "I had to fight them off, but she took one in the leg." His voice then lowered to a more hushed tone. "I'm sorry... but this was the safest place I could think to bring her..." He looked down into Ethel's soft yellow eyes. The motherly lizard slowly put her paw to his dark face.

"You's be a-coming to tha right place." She said softly.

"I don't know how bad it is, Ethel. I didn't see an exit wound. I think she's still got the slug in her..." Alias finally confessed, voice no louder than a slight breeze in the night.

Ethel rested her rust colored paws on his shoulders, squeezing them slightly in comfort. "We be a-takin' care of yer lil' birdie, Ah-li-us." She then let out a quieted sigh. "But tha pain tha foxy gurl be in for, no drugs be a-helpin.'"

Alias dropped his chin and nodded. "What do you need from me?"

It wasn't long before Ethel had dug out her huge medkit from one of her bathroom cabinets. Most of the contents in the plastic case hadn't been used until now. The first order of business was to get Jenna comfortable, or as comfortable as she could be in light of the given situation. Grabbing a syringe from the kit and a small bottle from Ethel's black case, he turned the glass upside down, and plunged a syringe into its corked end. Morphine was such a crude drug. It was like using the nuclear bomb of anesthetics when only a surgical strike was necessary. Although he never suffered from a problem, he could see how people became dependent on it's euphoric illusion. Having this in the back of his mind always made him edgy when he used it. But it was probably one of the easier drugs to obtain, making it one of the most well circulated drugs within The Underground. Having no official medical training, the shadow fox had to guess at proper dosages. He was sure to give Jenna far less than what he'd give himself. She was much smaller than he was, thus the same dosage would have a greater effect on her. Turning around from the counter to where Jenna lay, Alias examined her leg.

It looked like she had taken it in the upper thigh as blood covered her inner leg, running down her jeans. Anything higher could have injured her severely. Internal bleeding was always one of the greatest risks in dealing with bullet wounds. The way it looked was that it had passed on the outside of her inner thigh, clear of her femoral artery. That didn't mean it still didn't hurt like Hell. Had the round been hollow-tipped, she might be walking with a crutch for the rest of her life.

Jenna had been lucky.

Looking down at the blue vixen, Alias realized that his black coat sleeve along with her jeans covered where she had been shot, blocking it from access. They had to go. If Alias was going to be able to work, they had to go.

Grabbing a pair of scissors from the kit, Ethel started at the waistband of her jeans and began to carefully cut downward.

"We need to clean it." Alias explained, sounding calm while removing the makeshift bandage, saturated in the vixen's crimson blood.

Jenna, with tears of pain welling up in the sides of her eyes, nodded her consent, while biting down on her bottom lip. As Ethel slowly worked her way down Jenna's pants, Alias took notice of the vixen's grimacing face. Waves of anguish from her livid wound crashed down on her. Beads of sweat were forming on her brow, and every so often they'd collect in a drop that would roll down the sides of her head. Her eyes would clamp shut in irregular intervals as she tried to focus on anything, anything but the septic burning torment that seemed to travel through her veins.

The scissors finally cut the material down to her injury, allowing Alias to simply remove her jeans with ease. He didn't want her possibly making her injury worse trying to wriggle out of the figure-fitting apparel. Slowly, he pulled her jeans away, revealing the clotted gash where the bullet forced itself through her fur and skin. She lay there in nothing but her green top, while it was conservative by modern standards, a of pair black-laced panties was the only thing left to keep her modesty. Jenna kept her gaze to the ceiling, looking slightly embarrassed at feeling so vulnerable.

"You know, they say you can tell a lot about a woman's intentions by the lingerie she wears..." Alias whispered, with a slight smile on his muzzle, trying to set the vixen at ease.

At this, Jenna let out a strained laugh. "Shut up... it matched..." She shot back, pain interlaced in her voice. "How bad is it?" She croaked out, looking up at the ceiling.

There had been times, Alias had hoped whoever he was standing over hadn't asked that. He didn't want to lie to them, but he didn't want to crush their spirits. It was a unique experience when you looked into someone's eyes and lied to them about their chances of survival. What was worse was when you could tell they knew you were lying. A look grew in their eyes as their mortality registered within them; a look of fear. As he looked back at Ethel, her reptilian eyes didn't give him the look that there was a need to fill Jenna with false hope. Alias felt the relief wash over him as he knew he wouldn't have to lie tonight.

The slug had just gazed her, but gone deep and stopped. As they looked at the back of Jenna's naked thigh, it was clear the bullet was still inside her as there wasn't a hole where it should have burst through the other side. Alias knew it felt akin to ramming a hot fire poker as deep and fast as possible into your body; leaving only a prolonged burning. He thanked God it hadn't hit an artery or her bone. Had that been the case, he might be telling Jenna false truths about her chances.

Placing a paw gently on her leg to steady her, Alias pushed the needle into her flesh. She winced at the sudden sting of the needle, but as the contents were released into her system, her face went from that of pain to that of relaxation.

"You're not answering..."

Alias looked up after he removed the needle. His face grew grim and stern as he looked down at Jenna, holding a small bandage over where he had injected her.

"Well..." Alias started slowly. "I think Otto's going to be pretty pissed he never got to see you in these..." The words left his lips like someone close to him had just passed, only he was referring to her panties, which were stained from where her leg had been bleeding out.

The black fox couldn't suppress a smile, as he watched Jenna's embarrassment grow.

"I hate you... like for real..." She muttered, that familiar tone of sarcasm in her voice.

"Hey, you'll be fine." His paw moved to her muzzle, directing her attention to him. "But the bullet is still inside you." He explained slowly. "We need to stop the bleeding, but we have to get the slug out. The drugs... they can only do so much for this..."

"It be a-hurtin' like no pain you be a-feelin' 'afore, Jenn-ah." Ethel explained, looking over at the vixen while pulling out a sterile set of metallic forceps. "But you be a-strong foxy gurl. I's be a-needin' you to be strong fer Auntie Ethel."

Jenna nodded silently as Alias watched her set her jaw like he did when he foresaw the onset of pain. Her eyes went back to the ceiling, shutting and opening in regular intervals, blinking away the tears.

Removing anything from the body that didn't belong there wasn't a quick task. The process, if done with too much haste, could cause more damage than the actual projectile itself. The drawback to being careful was that any pain the patient was feeling was prolonged. The kitchen soon smelled of chemicals, mostly alcohol. Not the kind that Alias usually enjoyed, but the kind used to disinfect cuts and gashes. All the while, Alias couldn't help but notice Jenna. She was now dressed in about as little as she possibly could be; as little as Alias had ever seen her in. Furthermore, Alias kept a mindful watch as to where he placed his paws, as it was quite an intimate area. But there was something more to it when the black fox looked down at Jenna. For the first time in a long time, he saw her as something besides the opinionated, no-bullshit, waitress who had taught herself how to deal in The Underground. Here she was weak, and feeling as vulnerable as one probably could. For some reason, the same word kept coming to Alias's mind; delicate. There was something about her, that made him want to hover over her, and block out as much as he could; shield her from any harm that could come her way.

Ethel pressed her paw down on Jenna's leg, holding her still as Alias held a flashlight to guide the surgery. As the salamander slowly pushed the forceps into the bloody hole, a cry of distress escaped Jenna's lips as her leg jerked from the sudden onset of a livid agony.

"Be a-talkin' to her." Ethel whispered to Alias, extending her paw for the light.

The black fox looked a little dumbstruck. "About what?" He asked slowly, sounding unsure.

"Anytin'." Ethel replied, taking the light. "Be a-calmin' her, help her through dis."

His eyes wandered from her leg that he held in place to her face, which was still looking upward, paws clenched tightly. His eyes followed the slight transitioning fur of her inner body, that faded from her predominant dark blue, to a much lighter turquoise like her hair. Her hips were transitioning from dark blue, to lighter, to the black lace of her panties, which held the basic, yet ambiguous figure of her body. His eyes traveled along the serpentine figure of her abdomen, navel, all saturated in the sky blue color of her inner body. She lay there before him, paws folded where her ribcage separated, rising and falling with each breath she took.

Slowly, Alias walked closer to her; taking a seat so he was face to face with her. "This would be something to write home about." The black fox said slowly, forcing a bit of humor and her concentration away from Ethel's procedure. "Taking a bullet? I think you've earned your gangsta' stripes."

"Dear Jesus..." Jenna winced in pain, shaking her head slightly. "I don't want to ever hear you say that again..."

Alias let out a slight laugh at this, aches and pains beginning to develop in his shoulders where he had taken a metallic beating. The adrenaline was fully subsided and all it left him with was a damaged body to deal with.

Jenna shook her head, eyes concentrating on the ceiling, gasping in pained, short, rapid breaths as the medical tools again penetrated her. "...Alias?" She called out quietly.

His green eyes flashed down at hers, connecting.

"Have y-you ever...' Her face twisted in pain, jolting slightly. "...shot a cop?"

And the penny dropped; dropped almost faster than Alias's heart when those words left her lips. Maybe she didn't care until now, or maybe it was never questioned in her mind. Undoubtedly their run-in with Arcadia's Police must have shaken up the question in her mind. A valid question, and until this point, Alias had been very careful to avoid the police when Jenna was around for a lot of reasons, not just fear of arrest.

His eyes flashed away for a second, catching a slight glimpse of his straight, black hair, which hung down slightly in his eyes. There was no point in mincing words; not with a question that direct.

"Yes." He stated, clearing his throat to be sure he was heard properly. "I'm..." He began, pausing. "I'm not sure what you want me to say beyond that." Shaking his head slowly, Alias knew the reaction going through Jenna's mind; the reaction anyone would have after learning someone they knew had killed law enforcement. In Jenna's mind, those agencies were the most powerful ones in her world; the ultimate authority. She probably was sickened by hearing this, and from her point of view, he couldn't blame her.

Slowly, her eyes closed, then reopened, looking up at him. "Not much you can..." She started in a small voice, eyes looking glossy, perhaps even hurt.

Because they were in the way...

The explanation was simple, but taken out of context no one would understand. His explanation wasn't meant to be taken so literal. "Jenna..." He started slowly. "I'm telling you because you asked, because I told you I'd work on that part of me." Alias then stopped, preparing his words for what was to come next. "I don't like it, and I'm not just talking ethics here." He explained. "It gets very dangerous when they think you'll kill one of theirs. Rabid almost." He nodded. "I'm not blind, I know there are good people who wear that uniform, who truly believe they are making a difference, or at least they're always trying to." Letting out a slight laugh, his mind was pulled back to a darker side. "But so long as everyone stays the same, there'll always be others ready to take advantage of good people. That's not something exclusive to The Underground."

The next thing Jenna said was more of a statement than a question. "You took a... contract."

"It was one of my first jobs that I remember..." Alias began, thinking back to that day. "One of the first times I took blood money." Pausing for a moment, The Mercenary thought back those many years. All the memories flooded back, the events leading up to it, that night he decided to take out his target, his fatal flaw, his hesitation which had almost cost him his life. "I was out on the streets after I left when all that shit here went down..." He explained. Jenna slowly rolled her head to the side so she could see him, whimpering as Ethel plunged the instruments deeper into her leg. "There wasn't much else that I could do... or knew for that matter. There was a local mob, more or less a puppet for larger players in the Invisible War. They were having issues with a police sergeant and the heat he was putting on." His ears picked up on a wet squeezing sound as Ethel opened the forceps after locating the bullet, the vixen's teeth clamping down on her bottom lip. As she did this, a groan of anguish escaped her mouth. Her paw latched onto his. which were resting on the the table; nails digging into the back of his paw. "Those cheep bastards only paid me eight thousand for the job... but at the time, that was a fortune, and no one else would do it for that little." Alias continued, blocking out the pain her grip was causing him, and accepted her paw. He could remember the job clearly, and normally he would have been in and out in no time flat, but his lack of experience hindered this. That, and watching too many movies.

"So, I had a few pistols, but that was it." He shook his head. "Couldn't afford anything better. They knew I needed to be in close for the kill, so they placed me as their liaison between them and this guy." He recalled.

Jenna's expression suddenly changed. "He was dirty?"

Alias nodded slowly. "Run some errands, take care of some business for the day, I had to get him to let his guard down, take care of him discretely. They told me to just make sure he disappeared."

Jenna rolled her eyes, but her muzzle held a weak smile, that quickly vanished as Ethel began the process of pulling the slug from her leg.

"We met at a bar that Friday. Someplace to discuss the upcoming week's business." Shook his head.

"An instant friendship, huh?" Jenna croaked sarcastically, to which Alias let out a slight chuckle.

"I thought I could get the old man drunk so he'd pass out. But, we went drink for drink for a few hours. By the end of the night, we struck up a..." Alias paused, debating his word choice mentally, "an understanding, I guess is what you'd call it."

He heard a strained giggle from the table. "You mean he kept up during your onslaught of alcohol?"

"Meh, tomato, to-mah-toe." Alias replied, blowing off her comment. "Point is, we got to talking. Come to find out, this mafia that had hired me was more or less a gang, or gathering of people with a lot of money. They had been exploiting their workers, and I'm not just talking about on the job either. They had been paying him to destroy every complaint filed against their companies. Harassment, blackmail, any complaints made never reached higher up than him. " His brow furrowed slightly as his mind went to the next part. "Then, he looks dead in my eyes, and tells me he's actually working undercover as a dirty cop and they're getting ready to move on management. He had made copies of the evidence he had collected all those years. He was worried that management had recently discovered this and using their power and influence, might have him killed."

Lost in his story, Alias forgot what was happening as Jenna nearly jumped off the table as she hissed between her teeth, letting out another pained yelp. The Mercenary immediately snapped backed to reality as Ethel slowly pulled a dark, object that was held secure between the ends of the forceps. The bullet dripped dark drops of Jenna's crimson blood in small, round patches on the wooden table. Once Ethel alleviated the pressure, Jenna calmed somewhat, resting her back on the table once more. Ethel then dropped the flattened slug on the table with a patter.

"Hold." She instructed, keeping a bandaged pressed hard on Jenna's open wound and walked over to the stove where she turned a gas burner on high. Alias quickly stood up, and applied pressure to slow the bleeding.

"So what'd you do?" Jenna asked, trying to mask the pain and block out what she knew was coming next.

Alias didn't reply for a moment, lost in the tears that had welled up in the corners of her eyes.

"I... um..." He started, looking down at her. "I started believing him."

"So you do..." she winced as Ethel placed a clothing iron on the heating element of her stove, "have a heart then?"

Remembering all the details, the fox scoffed. "Don't tell anyone..." He encouraged her with a bite of sarcasm. He stood up, moving the table where he sat next to her. "I pull him out into the alley next to the bar, drunk as fuck, and give him the gravy on what I'm doing there. Explain to him that they'll just send someone else if I don't get this done." Alias shook his head, looking outright disgusted. "I was such a little dumbshit."

As soon as the words left his lips, there came a sharp laughter from beneath him. Looking down, he saw the blue vixen with a paw over her mouth, shaking from trying to contain her laughter.

"Hey, shuddup." Alias growled. "It's not funny, this was like five or six years ago!"

"So even you were a milk carton..." Jenna croaked back through her laughter.

Alias was quick by nature... or whatever had left him the way he was. But when he opened his mouth for a comeback, he suddenly realized that he had nothing. He nodded after a minute of hearing her laugh, genuine smile of affection gracing his lips. "Royal pain in the ass..."

"Part of..." the young vixen paused, face grimacing as Ethel continued to work, "my charm..."

Although to hear her laugh without reservation seemed to ease the stress Alias felt coursing through his body. Even if it were at his expense, he'd take it. She took a bullet for him, he could surely take a blow to his ego for her.

"Anyway," Alias forced the conversation back to his story, "so I'm letting him know, right? He agrees to keep my identification confidential, and I have no reason not to believe him." And that was the first time he ever suddenly felt that impending sense of danger; as if his death were imminent. "As I'm walking down that alley, sparing his life when I could have easily killed him in the bar, I hear the sound of a gun's hammer clicking. I know he has a gun to my back, and I know he's going to kill me. I just feel it." He spat, even noticing the spiteful tone he had adopted. "My gun was already in my paw, I didn't have to think..." He explained, and it had been. He couldn't even remember what kind of pistol it had been, just one he had collected from other exploits. Spinning around with a pistol in paw, Alias had jumped outward, and away from the sergeant who's service revolver was pointed at him, waiting to fire.

Only Alias had fired first.

He didn't wait for an explanation or a reason, for he surely would receive none of his own. Arm raised and pointed outward, his index finger squeezed around the trigger, sending three rounds at the cop as he fell through the air. Two in his chest, kill-shot through his head.

The black fox sighed. "I would have been alright... if it had ended there." This time, he didn't wait for Jenna to ask what he meant. He simply continued. "What I didn't know, what I never considered, was that he'd have backup. I just assumed that he didn't want other cops knowing about his underhanded dealings; mistake with assuming things."

The fox's green eyes caught movement around him as Ethel turned her stovetop off, pulling the heated, glowing iron away from the element. "Turns out, the cop was undercover, but had gotten a taste of the lifestyle. He had grown bold and started dipping his hands where they didn't belong... He had ripped off a lot of influential people by busting their grunts when he had been paid to look the other way. All the cops at the precinct were too terrified to say anything to a higher authority, only they knew about his corruption." Then there came the next part, which would make all this seem like a moot point. "Hell knows what he was doing there, maybe it was just his favorite bar or something. An off-duty cop hears the shots out back. He was young, probably only a few years older than me at the time. In his rush, he forgot to pull his gun and mine was still drawn."

Again, Jenna's eyes changed, like she was watching a wreck in slow motion.

"That sergeant had been in uniform because he had nothing to hide." Alias explained. "I had nothing, only his murder weapon." There hadn't been time for explanations, there wasn't a pause for even a fragment of thought. His body just seemed to carry out his actions, performed as perfectly as his mind's eye could conceive. As he had burst through the door, identifying himself, the off-duty cop's eyes saw the dead sergeant, then saw Alias laying on his back, holding a gun. In that moment, Alias hadn't been trying to be lethal; revenge or malice wasn't on his mind as his actions executed. There was no emotion in his reaction, just one thought that stretched to every corner of his mind.

Survival.

It was only after it was all over did Alias check and realize that the second cop was from another precinct. He had drawn on Alias when he had seen a fellow officer in uniform down, and he acted as his principals would dictated. In his mind, he had been doing the right thing.

For Alias, it went beyond right and wrong to the point where it became necessary, and unnecessary. For Alias's continued survival, his actions were necessary and no one would convince him otherwise. Was that ideal? Was it preferred? Of course not. Any body-count above one on a single hit was never ideal.

It was what it was, and Alias couldn't change what happened.

Clearly, in the end, he had survived. How could he say he regretted not dying? It made so much sense in his head, but to say it aloud, no one would understand. Not unless they were looking down the same barrel, out of options. All the same, Alias wasn't callous about killing someone who thought they were doing good things in this world. He never claimed he'd been proud of his actions, he never tried to portray an illusion of being a good person. It hadn't been a joke, or something easy to live with afterward. Even more insulting was that the target, the dirty cop, got the exact same funeral precession as the other officer. One died for greed, and the other for an ideal. In the end they were both heros, which was only a harder slap to Alias's face.

Alias didn't know what kind of person he was. History could judge his actions; for Alias chose to repress those from everyday thought. He lived in a very different world, one that went beyond good and evil. Every day Alias would face the horrors of this world and deal with it. That wasn't something everyone could do. Alias dealt with it as best he knew how so that others wouldn't have to make those moral compromises. In the end, there were just certain things the mind chooses not to deal with. Sometimes bad things did happen and it was just easier not to think about what he had done. This was one of those times.

"It's been a long time since I've had a run-in that... didn't go well. All the same, remembering that incident I adopted my current strategy."

Jenna swallowed hard as Ethel moved back over to her, placing a leather strap in her open paw. "Which is?"

"Don't give anyone a chance to explain." Alias replied looking into her eyes. "Regret nothing, and keep yourself alive."

"No rules, no law, no limits, right?" Jenna replied, like the philosophy of The Underground was a slogan or something. "Has it really... b-become that simple?" She calmly asked, orbs of pained sweat lazily running down her forehead.

Alias remained quiet for a second as he looked back at Ethel, who again nodded. "It used to be..." His dark voice replied turning his attention back to Jenna. Slowly, his paw moved to her brow, gently wiping away her perspiration with the back of his fingers while brushing her bangs away from her face. "...then everything changed."

Her tear-clouded blue eyes looked up at him, connecting with his green ones.

As Ethel moved back to Jenna's bleeding wound, she removed the bloodstained gauze. "I'd take the strap." He suggested. "It'll all be over soon enough but..." His voice trailed off.

"Any other words... of wisdom?" She asked, looking up at him.

Alias moved in closer to her, pressing his black paws against her shoulders as she placed the strap in her mouth to bite down on. "Bite hard, and don't let go." He whispered in her ear, as he let his bodyweight hold her in place.

This last part of the operation was like removing a bandage that was stuck to the body. Pull fast, pull furious so the pain would only be fleeting. Ethel didn't even warn Jenna when she was going to do it. Alias both heard the hissing sound of flesh being seared and saw Jenna's pupils dilate and her jaw lock down on the strap between her teeth. Ethel pressed the superheated iron hard down on Jenna's leg, using the tip to minimize the area cauterized. Jenna's body convulsed so violently, Alias thought she would throw him off her. As she rocketed up to a sitting position, her nails dug into the back of his neck, sinking into his soft flesh, as she unemotionally, but savagely clawed him. The sound escaping from her mouth wasn't a scream, or even a groan but something in between. It almost didn't even sound like a fox's voice, but rather something much more animalistic and savage. The primal side of Jenna's brain had awoken due to the rampant agony of the cauterization.

Ethel then pulled the iron away, and dropped it to the floor with a crash. Immediately, she picked up a syringe she had prepared, flicking the glass with her finger twice, and pushed it slowly into Jenna's leg. As the contents of the needle emptied, Jenna's struggle against Alias slowed; sweat dripping from her brow as she calmed. The vixen's claws stopped digging into Alias's back, and instead she simply clung to him. Slowly, her breathing began to calm, going from choppy, short, breaths of pain, to much slower, deeper ones of rest. Her arms slid along his neck, fingers intwined with each other as she hung loosely from him like an ornament placed on a christmas tree. As she looked up at him, eyelids starting to droop, Jenna looked as if she was trying to say something, but no words came from her lips. Without warning her fingers became untangled and separated from each other, leaving her body nothing but the air to grasp. However, Alias's midnight black paws were quickly around her, holding her steady. The tip of her chin began to droop, as her eyelids fought against the anesthetic Ethel had given her while Alias slowly lowered her back down to the scuffed wooden surface of the table. As he laid her back, brushing indigo hair from her face, one of her limp paws slowly ran the length of one of his outstretched arms, sliding downward to where his paws gripped her gently. Fading into unconsciousness, blue eyes slid shut, Jenna slipped into the beautiful numbness of her drugged sleep, paw resting with content on his.

"What'd you give her?" Alias asked after a moment, turning to Ethel, who already had stitching material in her paws.

"A special blend Ethel be a-known fer." She replied softly, taking one of the needles and starting to tie the bullet hole together. "Jenn-ah need be awake when I's be pullin' tha bullet from her so I not be a-makin' it worse by mistake."

The black fox moved from the table, down to where Ethel was working.

"You know, you probably saved her life. I've never pulled a bullet from anyone but myself." He said quietly, watching the healer work. "Thank you..."

She looked over at him with her mothering eyes, a soft yellow in their reptilian form. "I be pullin' tha bullet, Ah-li-us, yes." Ethel said while looking at him. Her rust paws then slowly pushed her long, straight raven hair, usually secured by a hat of some sort, from her face. "But her eyes be a-fixed on you tha whole time. If there ever be anyone a-trustin' their life to you, it be her."

At this, Alias ran his paw awkwardly through his shaggy hair. "Probably not the best idea."

"Well, you try tellin' this girlie tat." Ethel said, finishing her stitching, tying and clipping the excess thread. "She be a-carin' for you more than you be a-choosing to see." Her paws had already gone to the gauze, slowly wrapping Jenna's thigh.

"I think you're choosing to see a little too much." Alias dismissed in his dark tone.

Propping a paw on her shapely hip, the rust colored reptile turned to Alias. "Wat I be a-seein', is tat per girlie a-cryin' when she be a tinkin' you might not be a-comin' home one night. A girlie who comes to dis 'orrible place," her paws went into the air as she looked around, indicating to The Pitt itself, "a-tryin' to understand you. By tha gods Ah-li-us, she'd a run to tha ends of tha earth fer you, riskin' er'ting she be havin' left." Ethel paused for a moment, picking up the slug that had penetrated Jenna, wiping the dried blood away. "All Ethel be a-sayin' is, don't be forgettin' how much she be a-trustin' you." She held out her arm, gripping the bullet to which Alias opened his paw in return. "Congratulations." Ethel said aloud, tone returning to how it normally was as she dropped the slug in his paw. "It be a nine millimeter."

Ethel began walking to her bedroom as the cold lead object fell into his paw. A bullet looked so different after it was fired. Now it was all mashed up and deformed looking. The black fox rolled it around in his palm for a moment, looking at it. So much potential in one bullet; limitless really. This one about had Jenna's name on it and Alias was sure somewhere there was a bullet with his name on it as well. It was a disturbing thought, that out of the hundreds of thousands of bullets made each day, there could be one out there with his name on it.

Waiting; simply waiting for him.

Alias moved back over to Jenna, who lay unconscious on the table. Carefully, he raised her head off the scuffed, wooden surface, working his arm behind her neck. His other arm moved under her knees, bringing her into his arms once more. Placing one foot in front of the other in slow precision, as he couldn't see where his feet were going too well, Alias couldn't help but notice how light Jenna felt in his arms. It was like she almost belonged there or something. A strange thought, perhaps, but that's just what was going through his mind.

Seeing an open couch in Ethel's living room, he set the sleeping girl down gently. Making sure he hadn't agitated the field dressing that covered her wound, he carefully pulled a blanket across her sleeping form. Jenna lay there quietly, the only sound she made was the slight whistle of the air as she inhaled and exhaled slowly, chest rising and falling in sync. She was okay; Jenna would be okay.

Sitting down on the floor next to her and resting his back against the couch, Alias placed the small lead projectile down on the neighboring coffee table. In the silence of Ethel's dark home, only now was his mind returning to what he had done to the grey suits responsible for what happened to Jenna. There had been times when Alias truly felt remorse for his actions, but this was different. He knew full well that he would have killed them, killed them all, had anything... worse happened. In this moment of self-reflection, he could hear Trilby's question from before. How far would he go?

After tonight, Alias had his answer.