Disclaimer: Neither the Magnificent Seven nor it's ATF AU are mine.
A/N I’m sorry. My muses are random, twisted and, well, bizarre.
I’ve kinda stalled on the next childhood lost instalment - know where I’m aiming but the words ain’t coming… Maybe this will blow away the cobwebs.
Again, final warning - it’s weird!
It wasn’t supposed to end like this, Ezra thought. He’d never expected to live to an old age, but he’d at least hoped to go out with some dignity.
Daq had turn out not to be the ‘simple’ gunrunner they had first sought to target but rather an arms dealer in the fullest sense of the word. Which is how it all led to him being here, about to be used as a guinea pig for one of the madman’s biological weapons.
Ezra had outdone himself this time and worked his way high enough up the chain of command that unfortunately he knew exactly what was coming next. There had been talk of mucosal biological delivery systems, DNA targeted delivery, and an Armageddon switch, which could turn the person infected into a carrier that could infect hundreds.
The only explanation for his current predicament was a mole of some form in god-knows-which agency. As the scope of Daq’s operations had become clear the investigation had become a true alphabet soup, despite the Judge’s best efforts.
He tested the restraints again, biting back the futile growl that rumbled in his throat.
Ezra cast a glance at the viewing window. They had come for him. That knowledge, despite the fact they’d arrived too late to save him, was surprisingly comforting.
He’d heard Chris’s howl of rage as the containment doors had hissed closed. Once engaged, there was no way of aborting the trial -- Daq’s way of preventing his scientific brains getting cold feet.
Ezra felt his gaze captured by each of his ‘brothers’, allowing him to draw on their strength and pull himself together. He wasn’t dead yet, damn it.
His attention was drawn away from them at the sound of a panel sliding open, and for one horrifying moment he thought he could hear the vile limacine little creature slither toward his face.
Ezra tensed as he felt the slimy contact of his impending doom drop onto his collarbone and begin to make its way up his neck. He was vaguely aware of pounding in the background and a small part of his mind acknowledged that his team hadn’t given up on him yet either.
It was ironic that after all the stories and movie lines, he really did feel his mind replaying his life. Only, instead of regret, Ezra sought something, anything, in all the tricks and cons, covert and overt attacks, legal and illicit artifice he been subjected to by his mother and Quantico; anything that might save him.
Ezra froze as a vague memory from his childhood swam to the surface. Something minor, a quirk, a talent, that was his own – not taught or trained, but discovered and used as a playground party trick – something that just might do it. If nothing else, it would buy him time.
The despicable beast was meandering up his cheek now and Ezra had to fight back his revulsion: timing was going to be everything. He vaguely heard what he thought was Josiah’s bass rumble, something about taking cover as Buck has an idea-- something explosive, no doubt-- but he couldn’t afford to be distracted.
Sucking a quick breath through barely parted lips, he hissed venomously as the toxic fiend crept up across his philtrum.
“Die, you gross little snot monster!”
A/N I told you so.
Thanks to RevDorothyL for the beta.
Happy Christmas and thanks for reading! :)