Worse than teenagers really, but after you’ve lived for a thousand lifetimes, after you have experienced nearly every death known to man, you throw caution to the wind. You get trigger happy, you stop looking both ways when you cross an intersection. You readily throw yourself from a plane because you know that once the ground breaks your body, it will heal the splintering bones and torn flesh and you will get back up again and walk.
So, Booker isn’t thinking all too hard about it when he pulls the trigger on Andromache.
The bullet goes straight through the back of her head, quick and easy like, tearing through vertebrae and brain matter. Bathing Copley’s expensive carpets and the back of Andy’s head in a wash of red.
“Christ, Booker!” Copley shouts, flinching at the wound and the sound of Andromache’s body falling flat with a thump.
Booker’s quick to secure her, he grabs her arms and holds them down in a tight grip because when Andromache gets back up there will be hell to pay except, the blood on the floor keeps growing. Booker can still see inside her wound and it’s not- it’s not fucking healing.
He flips her over lightning quick, her eyes are bloodied, her face is blue. Cold hysteria fills him, makes him crazy, makes him numb. It makes him think of a noose wrapped tight ‘round his neck in cold Russia’s winter, makes him think of the crows that pecked his eyes out and all the hell that he deserves for doing this to Andromache, to his family.
“Booker,” Copley asks, eyes wide. He’s in over his head, has been from the fucking start of it all. “Is she...is she dead?” Booker cradles her head in his hands, he brushes her eyelids closed, presses his own forehead against Andy’s that has since gone sticky with blood. He doesn’t think he can answer Copley. He can’t speak the words out loud.
Booker thinks, Why didn’t you tell me, boss? And then he wonders if that even would have mattered, and hates himself for not knowing the answer.
“Booker-” Copley tries again, but the doors burst open.
It’s Merrick’s men.
Booker doesn’t put up a fight when they carry him away.
*
In the lab,
Nicky and Yusuf scream at him. They ask him what happened, they ask him about Andromache, the bullet in her head, her corpse strapped to the table between them as a morbid display of his betrayal.
Booker doesn’t know what to say.
In the end, he says nothing.
*
It’s Nile who saves them with the help of Copley and it is Nile who tells the others what happened.
* Nicky and Yusuf don’t say anything. They don’t rage against him. They don’t kill him. There is nothing but teary-eyed silence, shocked stares, broken faces and Andromache’s broken body.
*
Booker asks them to leave him behind, strapped to the examine-room table. It is the one thing that they all agree on.
Fill for the Booker Kills Andy Prompt
They are careless with their bodies.
Worse than teenagers really, but after you’ve lived for a thousand lifetimes, after you have experienced nearly every death known to man, you throw caution to the wind. You get trigger happy, you stop looking both ways when you cross an intersection. You readily throw yourself from a plane because you know that once the ground breaks your body, it will heal the splintering bones and torn flesh and you will get back up again and walk.
So, Booker isn’t thinking all too hard about it when he pulls the trigger on Andromache.
The bullet goes straight through the back of her head, quick and easy like, tearing through vertebrae and brain matter. Bathing Copley’s expensive carpets and the back of Andy’s head in a wash of red.
“Christ, Booker!” Copley shouts, flinching at the wound and the sound of Andromache’s body falling flat with a thump.
Booker’s quick to secure her, he grabs her arms and holds them down in a tight grip because when Andromache gets back up there will be hell to pay except, the blood on the floor keeps growing. Booker can still see inside her wound and it’s not- it’s not fucking healing.
He flips her over lightning quick, her eyes are bloodied, her face is blue. Cold hysteria fills him, makes him crazy, makes him numb. It makes him think of a noose wrapped tight ‘round his neck in cold Russia’s winter, makes him think of the crows that pecked his eyes out and all the hell that he deserves for doing this to Andromache, to his family.
“Booker,” Copley asks, eyes wide. He’s in over his head, has been from the fucking start of it all. “Is she...is she dead?”
Booker cradles her head in his hands, he brushes her eyelids closed, presses his own forehead against Andy’s that has since gone sticky with blood. He doesn’t think he can answer Copley. He can’t speak the words out loud.
Booker thinks, Why didn’t you tell me, boss? And then he wonders if that even would have mattered, and hates himself for not knowing the answer.
“Booker-” Copley tries again, but the doors burst open.
It’s Merrick’s men.
Booker doesn’t put up a fight when they carry him away.
*
In the lab,
Nicky and Yusuf scream at him. They ask him what happened, they ask him about Andromache, the bullet in her head, her corpse strapped to the table between them as a morbid display of his betrayal.
Booker doesn’t know what to say.
In the end, he says nothing.
*
It’s Nile who saves them with the help of Copley and it is Nile who tells the others what happened.
*
Nicky and Yusuf don’t say anything. They don’t rage against him. They don’t kill him. There is nothing but teary-eyed silence, shocked stares, broken faces and Andromache’s broken body.
*
Booker asks them to leave him behind, strapped to the examine-room table.
It is the one thing that they all agree on.