The first sign of trouble came in the form of a media bulletin interrupting a rerun of Sherlock Holmes he'd been watching on TV. "We interrupt this program to bring you breaking news," the announcer said. "Destiny City has been hit with some unknown outbreak!" She continued to talk as the camera panned through the hallways of what Johnny assumed was the city's hospital. At that moment, however, it looked more like the city morgue. The sheer number of motionless bodies – Johnny felt a little sick – was staggering. What on earth had--?
"They appear to be in some sort of induced coma." They were interviewing a very haggard looking man now. His name tag read something-something M.D. "Rest assured, we're doing everything we can." Johnny was already fishing through his mental files, moving information this way and that in an attempt to figure out what could have caused such a crisis. Terrorists? It was possible, but doubtful. Was this something to do with the Negaverse then? Had they acquired some sort of star seed stealing device that was ruining Destiny City? Or worse, was Dale Cooper finally stepping up to the plate?
Laocoon.
His thoughts were interrupted when the mirror rippled like water, the image of his Prince's Queen appearing on its surface. Johnny frowned as he unfolded himself from his bed and made his way towards the mirror. If she was calling him then something was wrong. If she was calling him and not Hector, something was very wrong. The green-haired teen's gut clenched as he touched a single finger to the mirror's surface.
Laocoon, Cavalier of the Maze.
Nehelenia looked as she always had; calm, cool, imposing. There wasn't a hint on her face that Destiny City was under attack by some unseen force that may or may not have anything to do with the reason they were here in the first place. They exchanged no greetings. A Queen didn't need to use pleasantries with a soldier. She only needed to give orders.
Find your teammates. Report back to me when you do.
He could still hear the television in the background even as he accepted the orders, the words trickling into his brain as other medical professionals describing the symptoms as a "dream-like coma", like the whole downtown core of Destiny City had fallen asleep.
Asleep?
Wait, he said before she could end the mirror call. Turn on your television. He watched her do so, face impassive, but when their eyes met he knew they'd come to the same conclusion. The Pyrite Crystal.
Laocoon, she said slowly. The prince didn't plan this
I know, he said, just as grave. Cora's image disappeared from the mirror, its surface reflecting back the bright blue eyes and pale face belonging to Johnny King. He took a deep, shaky breath, combing his fingers through his hair as he tried to collect his thoughts. Somehow, for some reason, Alexandros had activated the Pyrite Crystal. Knowing him, that meant only one of two things. The first was ruled out by Cora's appearance. Alexandros would have done it to protect her, but if Nehelenia was calling up his cavaliers then she hadn't been at the scene of the crime. The second option was ten times more likely. Alexandros had done it to save Hector. It was hard to tell from whom or why, but Johnny was almost positive that was the reason. Cora's word choice had implied that she hadn't been able to contact either of his teammates, which meant that both Dylan and Jesse were somewhere in Destiny City hospital, or worse, sleeping somewhere in a ditch. With a shudder Johnny grabbed his keys and bolted for the door.
~
Destiny Hospital was in complete and utter chaos. It took him nearly three hours to finally get pointed in the direction of Dylan Rasmussen's body – being the son of a doctor apparently paid off – and another twenty minutes to actually get there. The spot beside Dylan's bed was empty, though the chair that had been pulled close signified somebody had been there earlier. In the commotion it would be difficult to mirror Cora without somebody noticing so he settled for putting two fingers against Dylan's wrist. There was a pulse; a weak one, but a pulse nonetheless. Johnny's fingers trailed absently down the wrist as he moved to occupy the empty seat. When he was certain nobody was looking his way he let fingers sit between Dylan's.
What made you do this?
Johnny sat for hours in silent contemplation, running the situation over and over in his head. What had made Alexandros use the Crystal? What had happened to Hector? Was Hector dead? Was Dylan as good as dead? How long would they be stuck inside Tartaros before their bodies wasted away?
He'd used his posture, head bowed and hand resting on the bed, to open a pocket mirror on his lap to report to Cora. Dylan was out cold. He had yet to find Jesse but he would report when he found the second cavalier. A nurse passing too close had forced him to shut the mirror before he continued though he doubted she would have seen it anyways. With all the bodies coming in a boy speaking to a mirror was the least of anyone's worries.
He'd been contemplating taking a short nap when he heard a different set of footsteps enter the room. The teen wouldn't have looked up had they been headed in his direction, and possessed a certain kind of authority. Johnny let his hand slip away from Dylan's and looked up, wondering perhaps if he was going to be told to go home. It was getting late and the man was most definitely a doctor (or at the very least very comfortable in a lab coat) but for once the green-haired boy's wandering eyes picked up on something before his brain made the proper facial feature match. Dr. Rasmussen, read the man's tag. Dylan's father, no doubt.
There was a moment where the two simply looked at each other as though debating their next moves. Johnny was the first to concede, getting up from the chair and stepping around it. The two proceeded in a rather awkward dance to switch spots in the most casual way possible, neither taking their eyes off of each other. In the silence between them Johnny could almost feel an accusatory question hanging between them.
"I'm a friend of Dylan's," he said by way of explanation.
"Ah."
More silence. Johnny swallowed audibly. "I'll just… come back later then…" He exited the hospital room as fast as he could without breaking out into a run, already feeling the heat on his cheeks. It made him grit his teeth. He had nothing to be ashamed of. He had every right to be in that room, guarding Dylan's body. Dylan was his Prince! But, then again, so did his father. Dylan was his son, no matter what trouble he got himself into, and he had as much right to time with the body as Johnny did. Pushing the thoughts aside, the green-haired teen set about trying to locate Jesse Alvarez's body in the sea of gurneys. It was pure luck that he stumbled upon the other teen, his bed situated against one of the walls in the hallway. Unlike Dylan, who had just looked haggard and pale, Jesse had visible injuries. Had he been in a struggle? Kidnapped? Tortured? The bandages made it hard to tell but the evidence was clear that something had gone on before Dylan unleashed the Crystal.
There was no space to sit like there had been in Dylan's room, forcing the teen to all but sit on the edge of Jesse's bed. Somebody had obviously been there earlier; there were flowers on the ledge near his head. Greenery wouldn't wake dreamers from the nightmare world. Tartaros could not be broken that easily.
Johnny felt a surge of anger at the thought, his fingers tightening in the bed sheets. "You were supposed to protect him," he hissed to the still body beside him, as though he was accusing him of something Jesse didn't already know. "I was supposed to protect him. We were supposed to be better than this!" Better than a corpse lying in a hospital. Better than a sole cavalier working with a Queen and not knowing what went on in the nightmare realm. Better than a teenage boy reduced to guarding the bodies of his friends who might never come back. He should have done better. He should have seen the book ploy for what it was. But he hadn't. He had failed.
A nurse gave him an odd look as she passed by but he ignored it, emotion tightening his chest. He could think of a thousand curse words, possibly even more, and yet none of them could accurately describe the situation. The cavalier of the Maze could not remember feeling so helpless. There was nothing he could do, nothing but hope and pray that Hector was in there somewhere looking after Alexandros and Alexandros was looking after Hector.
"Damned fool."
He wanted to shake him, both of them, but he wouldn't. He'd have plenty of time to make Hector's life miserable when he returned-- if they returned, he reminded himself as he swallowed around the pathetic noise that was threatening to bubble up in this throat. They had to come back. He wasn't going to give them a choice. Johnny took deep breath and leaned down closer, as though whispering the words into Jesse's ear would somehow make him hear them in Tartaros.
"Bring him back, brother-mine."
As he pulled back he reached for his pocket mirror, opening it up in his lap to call Cora. Two out of two cavaliers accounted for. Now all they could do was wait.
