Now, Dr Fidelis had instincts, but even he could not stop what was essentially a rapidly built wall around him. Troy was very happy about knowing that fact now, not having been too sure about it a few seconds ago. He had witnessed the great bursts of speeds that the large man had been in possession of. Even when the barrier had been halfway up to become a full sphere, Troy had not doubted that Dr Fidelis would have been able to escape.
That is, if the man had been in any state to do so. Spittle had still been on the man. With a hand on one of the ears to accompany, he had looked to be in quite the sorry state. Even with the actions done before, and with what Troy knew of the damn, he just felt the slightest bit of sorry for him in that moment.
Such emotion disappeared pretty quickly though, as Charlie fell to the ground not that many seconds after the barrier had fully been made. The man was clutching his side, his face contorted in pain. Troy had bent down to ask if he was okay, but that to stop that, even going so far as to take a step back, as Charlie began to puke.
To be more specific, the man puked blood, the red colour mixed in with enough liquid that Troy would have been able to see his own reflection on it. Not that he did, of course, as that would have forced him to almost stand in the stuff.
Instead of that, more focus was laid on the man who had vomited said blood. Troy looked on, as Charlie wiped his lips of any remaining marks, staining his arm in the process. Not that the man looked like he cared about at the moment, though the youngest of the two would have wanted him to be checked up upon. He had gone a shade lighter at the last minute. Even if it had stopped, there were worries about internal injuries. No amount of enhancers would let one have that going for too long.
"Are you okay, Charlie?" Troy asked the muscular man, not sure if that question even needed to be put out. The man was quite obviously not alright. His face had hardened, not much emotion showing itself, his body was shaking the slightest bit, and there was also the fact that he had been in a fight to the death under a minute ago.
"I am fine," Charlie answered, looking at his now blood-covered arm. The man seemed to find the colouring workable, or something along the lines of that, as a low hum emanated from him. "Temporary enhancements come with their prices, and this is one of them. I won't be able to do it again for a while, however."
A temporary enhancement? That was a new concept to Troy’s ears, the man not having imagined that anything like that would have had the chance to only work for some time. Even if most enhancements dwindled in quality over time, there was never a point where efficiency would come under ninety percent of the original.
From the sounds that had been heard, Charlie had been more powerful than Troy had ever witnessed before. That was most certainly not what he was seeing now, the man looking as if his legs were having a hard time keeping the body up. If he faltered slightly, the young man knew he would come to his aid.
Troy wanted to ask for more details about the idea of the man’s enhancement. How had it appeared? There was hardly a chance that something had been injected or ingested during the fight, leading to the idea of it lying dormant in some state. Would that even work? There was a chance of it happening in some form, but the trigger for such a thing would be hard to work around, so as to not make it appear during day-to-day activities. Perhaps a martyr front, only happening at hard levels of both stress and pain? Troy had heard of something like that before, yet had similarly heard that the effects were more… permanent. So, no, that would not have been the method, else Charlie would not have stood in front.
Yet… there he stood, silently watching the body that laid on the ground. Darlow was still down, breathing peacefully as if the tall man was just having a pleasant piece of sleep. Even now, Troy could not see a thing wrong with him. And, neither could Charlie. Or so the youngest imagined it to be, not able to see the man’s face from behind.
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"Do you think we will be able to wake him up somehow?" Troy asked the man, not knowing how to deal with the situation. The normally loud person in the room stood so silently, watching the man that laid on the ground. Darlow looked so innocent. "Dr Fidelis said something about you working with-"
"I know what I worked with, and this is the effect of it," Charlie said, agreeing with what Troy said, even if it had been cut off before the young man had the chance to finish. "And… I know everything about it. Troy… please go into the elevator."
"Why do I need to-"
"Troy," Charlie said, once again cutting him off. The young man wanted to answer back, yet he was unable to say anything at all. Charlie had turned his head to look at him, and he felt that more than could ever be perceived physically could have been seen.
The eyes on the man looked haunted like they had looked into the abyss, knowing just what was looking back at him. They were eyes of somebody who had seen more than anybody ever needed to see. Troy saw so much being told in the irises, and he knew there was nothing he could do. The only real choice for him was to obey the man’s wishes, even if the reason was not understood. It was the only thing he could really do.
So… with heavy steps, he walked towards the elevator. It felt so far away, yet he still walked with a precision few could ever match. His steps were even, and they were exact down to the millisecond. It was the only way that he could ignore whatever went on behind him.
Or, try to at the very least. Nothing stopped him from hearing Charlie getting down on his knees next to Darlow. Even the heavy steps didn't make any difference when the man whispered remorseful words into the other’s ear. And there was not a single thing in the world that would have stopped him from hearing the crack of a neck being broken.
That crack just kept echoing in Troy’s ears. He had heard it before, either in person or in recordings that he was unwilling to see. He knew it by heart, for his brain had forced him to relive the sound over and over again. That sound had been what he had felt in his nightmares so many times. More often than not, it had been the reason why he refused to function. Death was supposed to be such a quiet affair, yet that crack refused to be anything but silent.
It was only at the halfway point when that sound was heard, yet it continued to stay in his head until Charlie himself stepped into the elevator. Troy did not dare to look up from his feet, until the moment that the doors closed on them. He did not want to see Darlow. He did not want to see what he had become. There was not a doubt about what state he was in, yet the confirmation of that fact was not something his brain wanted to process.
Yet the lack of a visual image did not stop his mind from imagining one. He saw Darlow inside, the corpse that he had become starting to rot slowly, not being found for hours to come. He saw the throat snapped, the bone pieces pointing a little to the side. The chest did not raise, nor did it fall. It sat still, never to truly move again.
Darlow was dead. Charlie had killed him. He had sounded so sad about it, yet that did not stop the fact of why it had happened. Troy did not blame him, though. He had seen the horror in those eyes, the realisation of what needed to be done. Yet… there was not an understanding of why that would ever need to be done. He… needed some form of an answer.
"... Could I ask why?" Troy asked, staring at the closed doors in front of him. While they had a metallic sheen to them, they did not provide anything close to a mirroring effect. It was perfect for them.
"You could," Charlie confirmed, not turning his head either. Both were in agreement with that fact.
"... Why?"
"It had to be done," Charlie bluntly said. "This is not a time for full answers. When we finish with this, I will have things to explain as well. Until then, Troy, I believe we will both move on with no emotion. There is not space for that here."
Charlie had said that before, during the time they had spent in the muscular man’s own laboratory. Troy had likewise tried to ask him questions then, only to receive that same answer. It had been constant since the start, and there was nothing that would change that.
Yet…
"I am beginning to doubt we will actually get out of here, Charlie," Troy said. "The plan is already fucked. Dr Fidelis wasn't supposed to find any hint of anything being wrong for another thirty minutes, we weren't supposed to take so long back at your laboratory, and Darlow wasn't supposed to-"
"Troy," Charlie said, looking over at the young man. His eyes were not nice, they were not calming. They were hard. "What you are doing right now will not do anything to help us get further ahead. Control yourself. When this opens up, both of us will calmly but swiftly go over to Dr Hale, who will tell us the next part of the plan. I do realise that you are stressed, but there is nothing that can be done to stop that. Trust that we will get through this. Everything else can be saved for after we get out of here."
Mainly, it was that look that made the man shut up. He understood what he was doing, that he was not helping anybody by it all. After seeing the consequences of him slowing down, he knew that it would never be allowed to happen again.
Picking up the bag that had been laying at the back of the elevator, Troy gripped it tightly. It hurt his fingers but helped him calm down in some weird way. Everything around him was messed up, but he knew the exact reason that his palm had become a little bloody.
When the elevator stopped moving, Charlie used his own key-card to open the door. They were quick to walk out of it after that. There was a job to do, after all, and neither felt like taking it slow.