A final fic to conclude the project.
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@grantaire-lives
A final fic to conclude the project.
Transcription under the cut.
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Chapter 14: The Cure
The ghosts of Eponine, Musichetta, Combeferre, and Marius led some Infected, both intelligent and regular, towards a bunker. It distracted at least some of them from their friends, and they managed to stay strong enough and not fade away, and have the others finish their task in the meantime. Grantaire and Enjolras went into the base in search of the king, disguising themselves as doctors to do so. R assured Enjolras that he’d follow him regardless of what happened to him because of it. They then agreed, even though he didn’t deserve it, the king would get a fair trial. When they found the king they were forced to endure a monologue, in which the king blamed Enjolras for the outbreak. During the confrontation Grantaire was shot, leaving Enjolras to hand him the detonator before he himself was executed. As his last act, Grantaire blew up the bunker, killing everyone inside.
Courfeyrac was trapped outside of the bunker, and all his friends were inside. With no other options, Courfeyrac decided to go to the wall. Along the way he was joined by Gavroche’s ghost, and they briefly debated whether or not it was a good idea to turn the fence off. Both of them decided it was worth it, and began to run towards the fence. At one point Courfeyrac remembered that he hadn’t sent the picture of Eponine’s tattoo to Combeferre, so he sent it to Joly, and then continued running. When they reached the fence, they debated the best way to go about taking it down, before finding a control panel. Courfeyrac ripped out almost all of the wires before he found the right one, and the fence shut off. An army began to come through, and when one of the officers discovered that Courfeyrac was Infected, Courfeyrac was tranquilized for everyone’s safety. As Courfeyrac fell unconscious the officer reassured Courfeyrac that they would do their best to save Courfeyrac’s friends, and France.
Jehan and Feuilly were given the horrible task of gathering the fresh human organs required for the cure - 10 bodies worth. After a firm debate, Feuilly convinced Jehan to let him commit the murders in a bid to protect the last of his friend’s sanity. The first death was the worst with the victim having time to beg for her life. After apologising repeatedly, Feuilly harvested the organs and put them in the bag Jehan carried, repeating this with the next 8 victims. When it came to the final body, Feuilly found himself unable to kill, the toll of murdering non-Infected becoming too much for him. Jehan convinced him to hand over the axe, and Jehan killed the final person. Together they collected the organs, and hurried to return to Joly and Cosette. After giving the ingredients and finding a syringe, both Jehan and Feuilly curled up in the corner of the room, trying to keep themselves together and stop themselves from falling apart. When Cosette motioned to them, they left with her and Joly, Jehan barely able to string words together and Feuilly barely able to focus. The group made their way out of the bunker, just in time to avoid being trapped inside with the explosion. The cure was swiftly administered to those Infected as they met up with Courfeyrac. It was for them, finally over.
Cosette and Joly were tasked with creating the cure itself. They made it to the correct room, but Joly felt weak, and ended up not being able to help very much. Cosette was the one to add things into the mixture as Joly read them off. Eventually, they were only in need of organs and newly infected blood. The organs, Feuilly and Prouvaire were collecting, but the blood, they had to get on their own. Luckily, or unluckily, for them, Cosette was already Infected, but Joly was not. Feuilly and Prouvaire came back with the horrible ingredient they were still lacking, which Cosette took and reluctantly added to the mix. In order to get the blood, Joly mentioned that she would have to infect him, as the blood had to be newly Infected. She didn’t want to, but she did as he said and infected him with a scratch. Cosette gave him a syringe to take his own blood, which he did after a few minutes, and she added it to the cure. It was done, but they had to get out. After gathering what they could, they began to make their way out of the bunker, but Joly found himself unable to go any further, telling Cosette to go on without him. The lark hugged him tightly and gave him Bahorel’s jacket before hesitantly leaving the bunker. Joly died in the explosion.
A concluding fic will be posted shortly.
Into the Fire
This is it, Enjolras thought as he and Grantaire sprinted down the hallways of the bunker. We have three hours until the alarms turn back on, this bunker is massive.
Enjolras took a left running into a doctor who looked younger than Combeferre. The doctor’s face widened in recognition as they reached for a radio on their hip. He lunged at the young doctor and knocked the radio out of his hand before swiftly knocking him out with the butt of his sword.
“Let’s keep moving.”
Even with the preparation he got from living this long in literal hell, Grantaire felt out of his mind for even agreeing to go along with this. What were they thinking? They were infiltrating a bunker with the king in it. The king. Who did they think they were even trying to attempt this? There were so few of them left, they should focus on, gee, maybe not actively trying to kill themselves.
“Do we have a plan here or are we just going to keep hitting
“Just keep hitting them until everything comes tumbling down,” Enjolras coughed as he skidded into a wall. Pain radiated off of his shoulder as his stitches throbbed. Enjolras let out a slow breath as he looked around the corner. Guards swarmed the entire area, and they were heavily armed. They didn’t have a hope of getting past them.
“Damn it. There has the be a way around them. Unfortunately for us they’ve probably all seen me before so either way it will not be pleasant.”
I just have to get to the King. He needs to pay. He needs to know the wrath of France.
Enjolras hoped that Joly could get that cure up and mobile and that foreign governments would come to their aid. That was the only chance France had now. No blonde revolutionary can dispatch medicine; the world needs a doctor.
“I don’t know what to tell you then. I mean I got what, like, 8 bullets and no clue how to plan a bunker invasion so… I’m really just following you here Apollo. But whatever we do we gotta do it soon.” Grantaire sighed.
Hopefully Enjolras would at least have a general idea of what to do. He always seemed on top of these kind of things. If anyone could make this work, Grantaire supposed, it’d be him.
Enjolras winced. “Yeah I know.” Soon enough the guards had wandered down the hallways far enough from them so they could make a break for the opposite passageway. He peaked into an open door; it seemed to be some story of abandoned lab with some fraying labcoats on the wall.
Enjolras ripped one of the hook and threw it over his tattered clothes. A crappy disguise was better than no disguise.
“I know I literally just said you’re in charge here but don’t we have more important things to do here than play dress up, like kill the king for example?” Grantaire questioned, cocking an eyebrow as he slipped a coat on. They didn’t look very convincing to say the least, still looked like a couple of kids who got dragged through hell, only this time with lab coats.
Enjolras’ eyebrow twitched. “It’s easier to blend in this way, and for the record we are not killing the king. We do not want to start off our new nation with an act of murder.” His mind drifted to the thought of all those charges that would decimate the bunker. It would be an easy win. Quick and efficient, but it wouldn’t be just.
“He will get a fair trial like anyone else, even if he doesn’t deserve it.” Enjolras hid his sword underneath the coat. “Let’s go.”
“Fair trial?” Grantaire snorted, “Of course he doesn’t fucking deserve it. Did Bossuet get a fair trial? Did Marius get a trial? Or Gavroche? Or Combeferre? None of this has been fair, so don’t look me in the eyes and tell me that asshole gets what our friends never will.”
Part of him knew he might be acting, well, like an asshole, but the other part of him didn’t care. Their friends were dead. They should at the very least avenge them.
“Of course he doesn’t deserve it, but I’d rather do the right thing than kill everyone. We are better than that.” Enjolras put a hand on Grantaire’s shoulder. “Now we have very little time left. Are you with me or not?”
Enjolras dropped his hand and didn’t wait for Grantaire’s reply. They didn’t have enough time anymore, and he had a feeling that this was going to go bad. Enjolras pumped his arms as he rounded several corners trying to get as much speed as possible. At the moment it seemed like Luck was on their side. No one moved to interfere with them. In fact there was no one in the halls surrounding the king’s quarters at all.
A chill crept up Enjolras’ spine as he grabbed for the gun in his waistband. Why was no one guarding the door? Enjolras tiptoed his way to the steel enforced door with and odd key pad on it. There were no buttons just a small black screen that jerked to life revealing Enjolras’ own face.
“David Enjolras,” a robotic voice said. “Subject 000. The Creator. Access Granted.” Enjolras swallowed hard. It would recognize him. He was the reason for all of this. He jumped back when the door slammed open revealing a makeshift throne room.
“Ah Monsieur Enjolras. I’ve been expecting you for quite a while. It took you long enough.”
That voice was one that had plague Enjolras for weeks and now it was real.
The King is here.
Of course Grantaire was with him. Whether it was his misplaced fear of Enjolras’s parents haunting him, or because he actually believed Enj knew what he was doing, was beyond him. But at this point, if Enj jumped off a bridge, Grantaire would probably follow him.
This of course didn’t stop him from keeping his gun carefully trained on the king. He wouldn’t kill him. But he wouldn’t hesitate to maim him if he tried anything.
“Great. We found him. Let’s take him and go before he starts monologuing.”
“I don’t think it will be that simple R,” Enjolras replied keeping his gun pointed at the smirking face of Louis-Philippe while eyeing the wall behind the glitzy throne.
“You’re parents would be so proud of you. Finally masquerading as the doctor they always wanted you to be,” the king said through his nose taking in Enjolras’ tattered appearance. “It’s too bad they died trying to save you. I on their other hand have no sympathy for them or for you. They grew soft. Disposing of them was easy enough.” The king let out a small laugh as Enjolras’ grip tightened on the gun. He kept his face steely as he glared at the king. He refused to let the king’s words sway his conviction.
“King Louis-Philippe you are charged with crimes against humanity, incitement, genocide, and murder. You have violated French Law and international law. We are taking you into custody where you will receive a fair and just trial. It’s more than you deserve,” Enjolras finished, steel lining his voice as he took deliberate steps toward the king.
“Take another step and this whole place goes up in smoke,” the king smiles casually playing with a small remote in his hands. He twisted it around his fingers lazily; his eyes were crazed.
“I don’t plan on going to trial sweet Enjolras. You see I don’t quite like the idea of spending years on trial with international bureaucrats dictating my fate or the fate of MY country.”
Enjolras stopped abruptly. His hearts sped up and his mouth went dry as he stared at the remote in the king’s hands. Shaky breaths made their way into his lungs as he focused on the king.
“You would kill everyone here including yourself?”
“I would see the whole world burn Enjolras just to win this little game of ours. The whole world will blame you and your friends. You assassinated the poor incapable king and all of his workers to destroy the evidence of your involvement in the making of the drug.” The king’s voice darkened as his face lost the crazed look and was replaced with anger and darkness. “You are the villain of this story Enjolras. Not me. It will stay that way.”
Enjolras’ chest tightened as his eyes narrowed. His entire body shook as red clouded his vision. He itched to pull the trigger to end this fight to end the lies.
“DAMN YOUR WARNINGS! DAMN YOUR LIES!” Enjolras shouted firing his gun just past the king’s head.
Grantaire didn’t even try to bite back a string of profanity. “What the fuck Enj? Didn’t we just fucking talk about this? I want to shoot him and I’m not doing the ‘right thing’, you do it because he called you a bad dude and no one bats an eye? Come on. You’re better than this.”
He knew taking his gun off the king was a bad idea, but he was more concerned with Enjolras inadvertently blowing up the base. Their friends were there. Innocent people were there. They needed to be smart about this.
“I didn’t shoot him!” Enjolras raged his anger reaching the boiling point. “He has no consideration for anyone’s lives! Not even his own! Or his family’s lives! He’ll kill us all no matter what!” Enjolras yelled in frustration. There was no winning here. They would lose.
“I’ve failed,” Enjolras whispered his shoulders slumped as he lowered his gun.
“Indeed you have.” The king stood up from his throne and stalked toward Enjolras his shoes squeaking on the floor. Louis-Philppe placed a sinister hand on Enjolras’ shoulder and forced the younger man to look up at him. “Did you really think you could win David? You’ve created this entire catastrophe. You are the reason all of your friends are dead, and the reason all of them will die.” The king pressed the detonator into Enjolras’ hands. “Wouldn’t it just be easier if you killed them all and took them all out of their misery?”
Enjolras grasped the king’s hand tightly angry tears rolling down his face. He couldn’t do this anymore.
“Would it not be easier to just let go?” the King asked enticingly as he backed away from Enjolras a sadistic smile spreading across his face.
“Oh come on!” Grantaire snapped, “Being sorry for yourself, is my thing. Get over it. Your part in this was minuscule at best. If it weren’t for you they’d just use someone else’s blood. Don’t let this prick make you feel bad for it.”
Grantaire had an advantage. He was unimportant. The king didn’t have any leverage against him, and even if he did not anything he could make R feel awful for. Being a piece of shit could come in handy.
He needed to get that detonated out of the kings hand. If Enjolras wasn’t going to snap out of it, Grantaire just might have to be useful for once in his life.
Enjolras pushed back all of the grief and helplessness he felt. All of the people he was fighting for felt the same as he did. Enjolras would not let them down now. He tightened his grip on the detonator and stood to his full height, towering over the king.
“You are despicable,” Enjolras spat.
“Well that really is too bad Enjolras. I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to do this.” With trained precision the king whipped out a hidden gun and fired.
Enjolras braced for the pain and waited for it to rip through his stomach. The king laughed sharply.
“Oh I’m sorry. It’s seems as if I wasn’t aiming for you. Not everything is all about you, but it it appears like you’ve failed another friend.”
It took a minute for him to process it all. The coppery taste in his mouth hit first. Then the way his wet shirt started clinging to his torso. Eventually followed by what he could only describe as agony.
How Eponine managed with a bullet wound was beyond Grantaire. He couldn’t breath, couldn’t think of anything other than how much blood was starting to pool out of him.
The worst part is he was almost close to doing something that mattered. He was almost good for something. He was so close and now he was crumpled at Enjolras’s feet, just as useless as he had been that morning.
God. He was pathetic.
“Grantaire!” Enjolras fell to his knees and struggled to Grantaite’s side as the king continued to laugh. He cradled Grantaire’s head in his lap as he pressed his hand to the growing spot of red. The detonator abandoned at the feet of the king.
He said no one else would die. He promised, but now his words meant nothing. Words don’t bring people back from the dead.
“It’ll be alright,” Enjolras said shakily trying to stop the bleeding in vain.
Grantaire didn’t know where his gun was, he didn’t think he’d be able to take a shot at the king anyway. But Enjolras could. Enjolras was alright. R held on to him for dear life hoping he’d take the shot while the king couldn’t send the bunker up in smoke.
He wasn’t an idiot. He knew it wouldn’t be alright. His luck had run out. His one major injury during this entire fiasco was going to be the one to kill him. Why wasn’t he surprised? For all the times he had wished for the sweet release of death, the only thing he could say, sputtering blood out with his words, was,
“I don’t-want to die.”
“I know. I know,” Enjolras whispered silent tears streaking his cheeks as he took Grantaire’s hand and pressed it to the wound with his own. He let his friend cling to him but there was nothing he could do for him. There was nothing he could for anyone.
“Your time seems to be running out Monsieur Enjolras,” the king smirked as heavily armed guards came pouring through a hidden door.
Enjolras ignored him as he held Grantaire close. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Why can’t I save anyone?
Grantaire gasped as Enjolras pressed on the wound, feeling the bloodied flesh underneath his hand. R was never squeamish, but he starting to get lightheaded.
They were fucked. He was shot, and Enjolras was sure to follow. Grantaire would die as he lived, a failure, for not keeping him safe.
“Enj-Enjolras, the um…get-shit.” He needed to think. Needed to focus. Needed to get that detonator. “Make ‘em, bleed…”
“I will. I promise. I will make them all pay, you just have to be alright.”
“You’re running out of time David,” the king said calmly as a dull click sound behind Enjolras’ head. A cool metal circle buried itself into his curls as the king waited to fire the gun.
Now Enjolras understood him. The king was in love with control. Enjolras gave Grantaire A small smile as the blood began to slow down around his hands.
“I never thought that it would end this way.” He squeezed Grantaire’s hand. “It’ll be alright my friend. I believe in you.”
How many seconds were left? How much longer do I have until my friend’s life leaves my hands? How long until the king pulls that trigger and presses the detonator?
Un
I imagined death so much it seems like a memory. This is where it gets me.
Deux
I believe in my friends. In the people of France.
Trois
The people will rise your highness. It is not I who will fail, but you.“
Quatre
"You think that dying means you win? But it doesn’t. With your death France gets a second chance. They will live and you will die.”
Cinq
“So you see your highness. It is I who have won.”
Six
“France will be free of you.”
Sept
Enjolras took a deep breath and looked down at Grantaire one last time. Maybe he wouldn’t see France be free, but at least he knew that his friends would live and that they would do what is right.
The king pressed the detonator into Grantaire and Enjolras’s clasped hands.
Huit
I hope Combeferre is proud. I wish I got to say goodbye, but we can’t always have what we want. I’m sorry I didn’t take my time, but I will see you on the other side.
Enjolras pressed his hand to Grantaire’s forehead.
“Goodbye, my friend. Give them hell.”
Neuf
The king pulled the trigger. Pain radiated through Enjolras’ skull as he fell forward on top of Grantaire. Their blood mixing together. His vision went blurry as bliss overwhelmed him. He smiled one last time and nodded at the detonator in his hands. Pain was nothing as everything faded to white.
Dix
Fin
The only thing Grantaire could process was the way blood oozed out of their leader, and the morbid realization that the only reason it wasn't gushing, was because Enj didn't have a heart beat. He couldn't tell you who else was in the room, or why he was there in the first place, he couldn't really remember why his abdomen hurt like holy hell, but he could tell you every little detail about his friends lifeless body.
He said to give them hell. So who gave a flying fuck if there were other people in the bunker, people who maybe didn't deserve it, the king needed to go. And frankly, Grantaire stopped caring about collateral damage when Enjolras stopped breathing.
Give them hell.
He pushed the detonator.
Into the Fire
This is it, Enjolras thought as he and Grantaire sprinted down the hallways of the bunker. We have three hours until the alarms turn back on, this bunker is massive.
Enjolras took a left running into a doctor who looked younger than Combeferre. The doctor’s face widened in recognition as they reached for a radio on their hip. He lunged at the young doctor and knocked the radio out of his hand before swiftly knocking him out with the butt of his sword.
“Let’s keep moving.”
Even with the preparation he got from living this long in literal hell, Grantaire felt out of his mind for even agreeing to go along with this. What were they thinking? They were infiltrating a bunker with the king in it. The king. Who did they think they were even trying to attempt this? There were so few of them left, they should focus on, gee, maybe not actively trying to kill themselves.
“Do we have a plan here or are we just going to keep hitting
“Just keep hitting them until everything comes tumbling down,” Enjolras coughed as he skidded into a wall. Pain radiated off of his shoulder as his stitches throbbed. Enjolras let out a slow breath as he looked around the corner. Guards swarmed the entire area, and they were heavily armed. They didn’t have a hope of getting past them.
“Damn it. There has the be a way around them. Unfortunately for us they’ve probably all seen me before so either way it will not be pleasant.”
I just have to get to the King. He needs to pay. He needs to know the wrath of France.
Enjolras hoped that Joly could get that cure up and mobile and that foreign governments would come to their aid. That was the only chance France had now. No blonde revolutionary can dispatch medicine; the world needs a doctor.
“I don’t know what to tell you then. I mean I got what, like, 8 bullets and no clue how to plan a bunker invasion so… I’m really just following you here Apollo. But whatever we do we gotta do it soon.” Grantaire sighed.
Hopefully Enjolras would at least have a general idea of what to do. He always seemed on top of these kind of things. If anyone could make this work, Grantaire supposed, it’d be him.
Enjolras winced. “Yeah I know.” Soon enough the guards had wandered down the hallways far enough from them so they could make a break for the opposite passageway. He peaked into an open door; it seemed to be some story of abandoned lab with some fraying labcoats on the wall.
Enjolras ripped one of the hook and threw it over his tattered clothes. A crappy disguise was better than no disguise.
“I know I literally just said you’re in charge here but don’t we have more important things to do here than play dress up, like kill the king for example?” Grantaire questioned, cocking an eyebrow as he slipped a coat on. They didn’t look very convincing to say the least, still looked like a couple of kids who got dragged through hell, only this time with lab coats.
Enjolras’ eyebrow twitched. “It’s easier to blend in this way, and for the record we are not killing the king. We do not want to start off our new nation with an act of murder.” His mind drifted to the thought of all those charges that would decimate the bunker. It would be an easy win. Quick and efficient, but it wouldn’t be just.
“He will get a fair trial like anyone else, even if he doesn’t deserve it.” Enjolras hid his sword underneath the coat. “Let’s go.”
“Fair trial?” Grantaire snorted, “Of course he doesn’t fucking deserve it. Did Bossuet get a fair trial? Did Marius get a trial? Or Gavroche? Or Combeferre? None of this has been fair, so don’t look me in the eyes and tell me that asshole gets what our friends never will.”
Part of him knew he might be acting, well, like an asshole, but the other part of him didn’t care. Their friends were dead. They should at the very least avenge them.
“Of course he doesn’t deserve it, but I’d rather do the right thing than kill everyone. We are better than that.” Enjolras put a hand on Grantaire’s shoulder. “Now we have very little time left. Are you with me or not?”
Enjolras dropped his hand and didn’t wait for Grantaire’s reply. They didn’t have enough time anymore, and he had a feeling that this was going to go bad. Enjolras pumped his arms as he rounded several corners trying to get as much speed as possible. At the moment it seemed like Luck was on their side. No one moved to interfere with them. In fact there was no one in the halls surrounding the king’s quarters at all.
A chill crept up Enjolras’ spine as he grabbed for the gun in his waistband. Why was no one guarding the door? Enjolras tiptoed his way to the steel enforced door with and odd key pad on it. There were no buttons just a small black screen that jerked to life revealing Enjolras’ own face.
“David Enjolras,” a robotic voice said. “Subject 000. The Creator. Access Granted.” Enjolras swallowed hard. It would recognize him. He was the reason for all of this. He jumped back when the door slammed open revealing a makeshift throne room.
“Ah Monsieur Enjolras. I’ve been expecting you for quite a while. It took you long enough.”
That voice was one that had plague Enjolras for weeks and now it was real.
The King is here.
Of course Grantaire was with him. Whether it was his misplaced fear of Enjolras’s parents haunting him, or because he actually believed Enj knew what he was doing, was beyond him. But at this point, if Enj jumped off a bridge, Grantaire would probably follow him.
This of course didn’t stop him from keeping his gun carefully trained on the king. He wouldn’t kill him. But he wouldn’t hesitate to maim him if he tried anything.
“Great. We found him. Let’s take him and go before he starts monologuing.”
“I don’t think it will be that simple R,” Enjolras replied keeping his gun pointed at the smirking face of Louis-Philippe while eyeing the wall behind the glitzy throne.
“You’re parents would be so proud of you. Finally masquerading as the doctor they always wanted you to be,” the king said through his nose taking in Enjolras’ tattered appearance. “It’s too bad they died trying to save you. I on their other hand have no sympathy for them or for you. They grew soft. Disposing of them was easy enough.” The king let out a small laugh as Enjolras’ grip tightened on the gun. He kept his face steely as he glared at the king. He refused to let the king’s words sway his conviction.
“King Louis-Philippe you are charged with crimes against humanity, incitement, genocide, and murder. You have violated French Law and international law. We are taking you into custody where you will receive a fair and just trial. It’s more than you deserve,” Enjolras finished, steel lining his voice as he took deliberate steps toward the king.
“Take another step and this whole place goes up in smoke,” the king smiles casually playing with a small remote in his hands. He twisted it around his fingers lazily; his eyes were crazed.
“I don’t plan on going to trial sweet Enjolras. You see I don’t quite like the idea of spending years on trial with international bureaucrats dictating my fate or the fate of MY country.”
Enjolras stopped abruptly. His hearts sped up and his mouth went dry as he stared at the remote in the king’s hands. Shaky breaths made their way into his lungs as he focused on the king.
“You would kill everyone here including yourself?”
“I would see the whole world burn Enjolras just to win this little game of ours. The whole world will blame you and your friends. You assassinated the poor incapable king and all of his workers to destroy the evidence of your involvement in the making of the drug.” The king’s voice darkened as his face lost the crazed look and was replaced with anger and darkness. “You are the villain of this story Enjolras. Not me. It will stay that way.”
Enjolras’ chest tightened as his eyes narrowed. His entire body shook as red clouded his vision. He itched to pull the trigger to end this fight to end the lies.
“DAMN YOUR WARNINGS! DAMN YOUR LIES!” Enjolras shouted firing his gun just past the king’s head.
Grantaire didn’t even try to bite back a string of profanity. “What the fuck Enj? Didn’t we just fucking talk about this? I want to shoot him and I’m not doing the ‘right thing’, you do it because he called you a bad dude and no one bats an eye? Come on. You’re better than this.”
He knew taking his gun off the king was a bad idea, but he was more concerned with Enjolras inadvertently blowing up the base. Their friends were there. Innocent people were there. They needed to be smart about this.
“I didn’t shoot him!” Enjolras raged his anger reaching the boiling point. “He has no consideration for anyone’s lives! Not even his own! Or his family’s lives! He’ll kill us all no matter what!” Enjolras yelled in frustration. There was no winning here. They would lose.
“I’ve failed,” Enjolras whispered his shoulders slumped as he lowered his gun.
“Indeed you have.” The king stood up from his throne and stalked toward Enjolras his shoes squeaking on the floor. Louis-Philppe placed a sinister hand on Enjolras’ shoulder and forced the younger man to look up at him. “Did you really think you could win David? You’ve created this entire catastrophe. You are the reason all of your friends are dead, and the reason all of them will die.” The king pressed the detonator into Enjolras’ hands. “Wouldn’t it just be easier if you killed them all and took them all out of their misery?”
Enjolras grasped the king’s hand tightly angry tears rolling down his face. He couldn’t do this anymore.
“Would it not be easier to just let go?” the King asked enticingly as he backed away from Enjolras a sadistic smile spreading across his face.
“Oh come on!” Grantaire snapped, “Being sorry for yourself, is my thing. Get over it. Your part in this was minuscule at best. If it weren’t for you they’d just use someone else’s blood. Don’t let this prick make you feel bad for it.”
Grantaire had an advantage. He was unimportant. The king didn’t have any leverage against him, and even if he did not anything he could make R feel awful for. Being a piece of shit could come in handy.
He needed to get that detonated out of the kings hand. If Enjolras wasn’t going to snap out of it, Grantaire just might have to be useful for once in his life.
Enjolras pushed back all of the grief and helplessness he felt. All of the people he was fighting for felt the same as he did. Enjolras would not let them down now. He tightened his grip on the detonator and stood to his full height, towering over the king.
“You are despicable,” Enjolras spat.
“Well that really is too bad Enjolras. I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to do this.” With trained precision the king whipped out a hidden gun and fired.
Enjolras braced for the pain and waited for it to rip through his stomach. The king laughed sharply.
“Oh I’m sorry. It’s seems as if I wasn’t aiming for you. Not everything is all about you, but it it appears like you’ve failed another friend.”
It took a minute for him to process it all. The coppery taste in his mouth hit first. Then the way his wet shirt started clinging to his torso. Eventually followed by what he could only describe as agony.
How Eponine managed with a bullet wound was beyond Grantaire. He couldn’t breath, couldn’t think of anything other than how much blood was starting to pool out of him.
The worst part is he was almost close to doing something that mattered. He was almost good for something. He was so close and now he was crumpled at Enjolras’s feet, just as useless as he had been that morning.
God. He was pathetic.
“Grantaire!” Enjolras fell to his knees and struggled to Grantaite’s side as the king continued to laugh. He cradled Grantaire’s head in his lap as he pressed his hand to the growing spot of red. The detonator abandoned at the feet of the king.
He said no one else would die. He promised, but now his words meant nothing. Words don’t bring people back from the dead.
“It’ll be alright,” Enjolras said shakily trying to stop the bleeding in vain.
Grantaire didn’t know where his gun was, he didn’t think he’d be able to take a shot at the king anyway. But Enjolras could. Enjolras was alright. R held on to him for dear life hoping he’d take the shot while the king couldn’t send the bunker up in smoke.
He wasn’t an idiot. He knew it wouldn’t be alright. His luck had run out. His one major injury during this entire fiasco was going to be the one to kill him. Why wasn’t he surprised? For all the times he had wished for the sweet release of death, the only thing he could say, sputtering blood out with his words, was,
“I don’t-want to die.”
“I know. I know,” Enjolras whispered silent tears streaking his cheeks as he took Grantaire’s hand and pressed it to the wound with his own. He let his friend cling to him but there was nothing he could do for him. There was nothing he could for anyone.
“Your time seems to be running out Monsieur Enjolras,” the king smirked as heavily armed guards came pouring through a hidden door.
Enjolras ignored him as he held Grantaire close. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Why can’t I save anyone?
Grantaire gasped as Enjolras pressed on the wound, feeling the bloodied flesh underneath his hand. R was never squeamish, but he starting to get lightheaded.
They were fucked. He was shot, and Enjolras was sure to follow. Grantaire would die as he lived, a failure, for not keeping him safe.
"Enj-Enjolras, the um...get-shit." He needed to think. Needed to focus. Needed to get that detonator. "Make 'em, bleed..."
Into the Fire
This is it, Enjolras thought as he and Grantaire sprinted down the hallways of the bunker. We have three hours until the alarms turn back on, this bunker is massive.
Enjolras took a left running into a doctor who looked younger than Combeferre. The doctor’s face widened in recognition as they reached for a radio on their hip. He lunged at the young doctor and knocked the radio out of his hand before swiftly knocking him out with the butt of his sword.
“Let’s keep moving.”
Even with the preparation he got from living this long in literal hell, Grantaire felt out of his mind for even agreeing to go along with this. What were they thinking? They were infiltrating a bunker with the king in it. The king. Who did they think they were even trying to attempt this? There were so few of them left, they should focus on, gee, maybe not actively trying to kill themselves.
“Do we have a plan here or are we just going to keep hitting
“Just keep hitting them until everything comes tumbling down,” Enjolras coughed as he skidded into a wall. Pain radiated off of his shoulder as his stitches throbbed. Enjolras let out a slow breath as he looked around the corner. Guards swarmed the entire area, and they were heavily armed. They didn’t have a hope of getting past them.
“Damn it. There has the be a way around them. Unfortunately for us they’ve probably all seen me before so either way it will not be pleasant.”
I just have to get to the King. He needs to pay. He needs to know the wrath of France.
Enjolras hoped that Joly could get that cure up and mobile and that foreign governments would come to their aid. That was the only chance France had now. No blonde revolutionary can dispatch medicine; the world needs a doctor.
“I don’t know what to tell you then. I mean I got what, like, 8 bullets and no clue how to plan a bunker invasion so… I’m really just following you here Apollo. But whatever we do we gotta do it soon.” Grantaire sighed.
Hopefully Enjolras would at least have a general idea of what to do. He always seemed on top of these kind of things. If anyone could make this work, Grantaire supposed, it’d be him.
Enjolras winced. “Yeah I know.” Soon enough the guards had wandered down the hallways far enough from them so they could make a break for the opposite passageway. He peaked into an open door; it seemed to be some story of abandoned lab with some fraying labcoats on the wall.
Enjolras ripped one of the hook and threw it over his tattered clothes. A crappy disguise was better than no disguise.
“I know I literally just said you’re in charge here but don’t we have more important things to do here than play dress up, like kill the king for example?” Grantaire questioned, cocking an eyebrow as he slipped a coat on. They didn’t look very convincing to say the least, still looked like a couple of kids who got dragged through hell, only this time with lab coats.
Enjolras’ eyebrow twitched. “It’s easier to blend in this way, and for the record we are not killing the king. We do not want to start off our new nation with an act of murder.” His mind drifted to the thought of all those charges that would decimate the bunker. It would be an easy win. Quick and efficient, but it wouldn’t be just.
“He will get a fair trial like anyone else, even if he doesn’t deserve it.” Enjolras hid his sword underneath the coat. “Let’s go.”
“Fair trial?” Grantaire snorted, “Of course he doesn’t fucking deserve it. Did Bossuet get a fair trial? Did Marius get a trial? Or Gavroche? Or Combeferre? None of this has been fair, so don’t look me in the eyes and tell me that asshole gets what our friends never will.”
Part of him knew he might be acting, well, like an asshole, but the other part of him didn’t care. Their friends were dead. They should at the very least avenge them.
“Of course he doesn’t deserve it, but I’d rather do the right thing than kill everyone. We are better than that.” Enjolras put a hand on Grantaire’s shoulder. “Now we have very little time left. Are you with me or not?”
Enjolras dropped his hand and didn’t wait for Grantaire’s reply. They didn’t have enough time anymore, and he had a feeling that this was going to go bad. Enjolras pumped his arms as he rounded several corners trying to get as much speed as possible. At the moment it seemed like Luck was on their side. No one moved to interfere with them. In fact there was no one in the halls surrounding the king’s quarters at all.
A chill crept up Enjolras’ spine as he grabbed for the gun in his waistband. Why was no one guarding the door? Enjolras tiptoed his way to the steel enforced door with and odd key pad on it. There were no buttons just a small black screen that jerked to life revealing Enjolras’ own face.
“David Enjolras,” a robotic voice said. “Subject 000. The Creator. Access Granted.” Enjolras swallowed hard. It would recognize him. He was the reason for all of this. He jumped back when the door slammed open revealing a makeshift throne room.
“Ah Monsieur Enjolras. I’ve been expecting you for quite a while. It took you long enough.”
That voice was one that had plague Enjolras for weeks and now it was real.
The King is here.
Of course Grantaire was with him. Whether it was his misplaced fear of Enjolras’s parents haunting him, or because he actually believed Enj knew what he was doing, was beyond him. But at this point, if Enj jumped off a bridge, Grantaire would probably follow him.
This of course didn’t stop him from keeping his gun carefully trained on the king. He wouldn’t kill him. But he wouldn’t hesitate to maim him if he tried anything.
“Great. We found him. Let’s take him and go before he starts monologuing.”
“I don’t think it will be that simple R,” Enjolras replied keeping his gun pointed at the smirking face of Louis-Philippe while eyeing the wall behind the glitzy throne.
“You’re parents would be so proud of you. Finally masquerading as the doctor they always wanted you to be,” the king said through his nose taking in Enjolras’ tattered appearance. “It’s too bad they died trying to save you. I on their other hand have no sympathy for them or for you. They grew soft. Disposing of them was easy enough.” The king let out a small laugh as Enjolras’ grip tightened on the gun. He kept his face steely as he glared at the king. He refused to let the king’s words sway his conviction.
“King Louis-Philippe you are charged with crimes against humanity, incitement, genocide, and murder. You have violated French Law and international law. We are taking you into custody where you will receive a fair and just trial. It’s more than you deserve,” Enjolras finished, steel lining his voice as he took deliberate steps toward the king.
“Take another step and this whole place goes up in smoke,” the king smiles casually playing with a small remote in his hands. He twisted it around his fingers lazily; his eyes were crazed.
“I don’t plan on going to trial sweet Enjolras. You see I don’t quite like the idea of spending years on trial with international bureaucrats dictating my fate or the fate of MY country.”
Enjolras stopped abruptly. His hearts sped up and his mouth went dry as he stared at the remote in the king’s hands. Shaky breaths made their way into his lungs as he focused on the king.
“You would kill everyone here including yourself?”
“I would see the whole world burn Enjolras just to win this little game of ours. The whole world will blame you and your friends. You assassinated the poor incapable king and all of his workers to destroy the evidence of your involvement in the making of the drug.” The king’s voice darkened as his face lost the crazed look and was replaced with anger and darkness. “You are the villain of this story Enjolras. Not me. It will stay that way.”
Enjolras’ chest tightened as his eyes narrowed. His entire body shook as red clouded his vision. He itched to pull the trigger to end this fight to end the lies.
“DAMN YOUR WARNINGS! DAMN YOUR LIES!” Enjolras shouted firing his gun just past the king’s head.
Grantaire didn’t even try to bite back a string of profanity. “What the fuck Enj? Didn’t we just fucking talk about this? I want to shoot him and I’m not doing the ‘right thing’, you do it because he called you a bad dude and no one bats an eye? Come on. You’re better than this.”
He knew taking his gun off the king was a bad idea, but he was more concerned with Enjolras inadvertently blowing up the base. Their friends were there. Innocent people were there. They needed to be smart about this.
“I didn’t shoot him!” Enjolras raged his anger reaching the boiling point. “He has no consideration for anyone’s lives! Not even his own! Or his family’s lives! He’ll kill us all no matter what!” Enjolras yelled in frustration. There was no winning here. They would lose.
“I’ve failed,” Enjolras whispered his shoulders slumped as he lowered his gun.
“Indeed you have.” The king stood up from his throne and stalked toward Enjolras his shoes squeaking on the floor. Louis-Philppe placed a sinister hand on Enjolras’ shoulder and forced the younger man to look up at him. “Did you really think you could win David? You’ve created this entire catastrophe. You are the reason all of your friends are dead, and the reason all of them will die.” The king pressed the detonator into Enjolras’ hands. “Wouldn’t it just be easier if you killed them all and took them all out of their misery?”
Enjolras grasped the king’s hand tightly angry tears rolling down his face. He couldn’t do this anymore.
“Would it not be easier to just let go?” the King asked enticingly as he backed away from Enjolras a sadistic smile spreading across his face.
“Oh come on!” Grantaire snapped, “Being sorry for yourself, is my thing. Get over it. Your part in this was minuscule at best. If it weren’t for you they’d just use someone else’s blood. Don’t let this prick make you feel bad for it.”
Grantaire had an advantage. He was unimportant. The king didn’t have any leverage against him, and even if he did not anything he could make R feel awful for. Being a piece of shit could come in handy.
He needed to get that detonated out of the kings hand. If Enjolras wasn’t going to snap out of it, Grantaire just might have to be useful for once in his life.
Enjolras pushed back all of the grief and helplessness he felt. All of the people he was fighting for felt the same as he did. Enjolras would not let them down now. He tightened his grip on the detonator and stood to his full height, towering over the king.
“You are despicable,” Enjolras spat.
“Well that really is too bad Enjolras. I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to do this.” With trained precision the king whipped out a hidden gun and fired.
Enjolras braced for the pain and waited for it to rip through his stomach. The king laughed sharply.
“Oh I’m sorry. It’s seems as if I wasn’t aiming for you. Not everything is all about you, but it it appears like you’ve failed another friend.”
It took a minute for him to process it all. The coppery taste in his mouth hit first. Then the way his wet shirt started clinging to his torso. Eventually followed by what he could only describe as agony.
How Eponine managed with a bullet wound was beyond Grantaire. He couldn’t breath, couldn’t think of anything other than how much blood was starting to pool out of him.
The worst part is he was almost close to doing something that mattered. He was almost good for something. He was so close and now he was crumpled at Enjolras’s feet, just as useless as he had been that morning.
God. He was pathetic.
“Grantaire!” Enjolras fell to his knees and struggled to Grantaite’s side as the king continued to laugh. He cradled Grantaire’s head in his lap as he pressed his hand to the growing spot of red. The detonator abandoned at the feet of the king.
He said no one else would die. He promised, but now his words meant nothing. Words don’t bring people back from the dead.
“It’ll be alright,” Enjolras said shakily trying to stop the bleeding in vain.
Grantaire didn't know where his gun was, he didn't think he'd be able to take a shot at the king anyway. But Enjolras could. Enjolras was alright. R held on to him for dear life hoping he'd take the shot while the king couldn't send the bunker up in smoke.
He wasn't an idiot. He knew it wouldn't be alright. His luck had run out. His one major injury during this entire fiasco was going to be the one to kill him. Why wasn't he surprised? For all the times he had wished for the sweet release of death, the only thing he could say, sputtering blood out with his words, was,
"I don't-want to die."
Into the Fire
This is it, Enjolras thought as he and Grantaire sprinted down the hallways of the bunker. We have three hours until the alarms turn back on, this bunker is massive.
Enjolras took a left running into a doctor who looked younger than Combeferre. The doctor’s face widened in recognition as they reached for a radio on their hip. He lunged at the young doctor and knocked the radio out of his hand before swiftly knocking him out with the butt of his sword.
“Let’s keep moving.”
Even with the preparation he got from living this long in literal hell, Grantaire felt out of his mind for even agreeing to go along with this. What were they thinking? They were infiltrating a bunker with the king in it. The king. Who did they think they were even trying to attempt this? There were so few of them left, they should focus on, gee, maybe not actively trying to kill themselves.
“Do we have a plan here or are we just going to keep hitting
“Just keep hitting them until everything comes tumbling down,” Enjolras coughed as he skidded into a wall. Pain radiated off of his shoulder as his stitches throbbed. Enjolras let out a slow breath as he looked around the corner. Guards swarmed the entire area, and they were heavily armed. They didn’t have a hope of getting past them.
“Damn it. There has the be a way around them. Unfortunately for us they’ve probably all seen me before so either way it will not be pleasant.”
I just have to get to the King. He needs to pay. He needs to know the wrath of France.
Enjolras hoped that Joly could get that cure up and mobile and that foreign governments would come to their aid. That was the only chance France had now. No blonde revolutionary can dispatch medicine; the world needs a doctor.
“I don’t know what to tell you then. I mean I got what, like, 8 bullets and no clue how to plan a bunker invasion so… I’m really just following you here Apollo. But whatever we do we gotta do it soon.” Grantaire sighed.
Hopefully Enjolras would at least have a general idea of what to do. He always seemed on top of these kind of things. If anyone could make this work, Grantaire supposed, it’d be him.
Enjolras winced. “Yeah I know.” Soon enough the guards had wandered down the hallways far enough from them so they could make a break for the opposite passageway. He peaked into an open door; it seemed to be some story of abandoned lab with some fraying labcoats on the wall.
Enjolras ripped one of the hook and threw it over his tattered clothes. A crappy disguise was better than no disguise.
“I know I literally just said you’re in charge here but don’t we have more important things to do here than play dress up, like kill the king for example?” Grantaire questioned, cocking an eyebrow as he slipped a coat on. They didn’t look very convincing to say the least, still looked like a couple of kids who got dragged through hell, only this time with lab coats.
Enjolras’ eyebrow twitched. “It’s easier to blend in this way, and for the record we are not killing the king. We do not want to start off our new nation with an act of murder.” His mind drifted to the thought of all those charges that would decimate the bunker. It would be an easy win. Quick and efficient, but it wouldn’t be just.
“He will get a fair trial like anyone else, even if he doesn’t deserve it.” Enjolras hid his sword underneath the coat. “Let’s go.”
“Fair trial?” Grantaire snorted, “Of course he doesn’t fucking deserve it. Did Bossuet get a fair trial? Did Marius get a trial? Or Gavroche? Or Combeferre? None of this has been fair, so don’t look me in the eyes and tell me that asshole gets what our friends never will.”
Part of him knew he might be acting, well, like an asshole, but the other part of him didn’t care. Their friends were dead. They should at the very least avenge them.
“Of course he doesn’t deserve it, but I’d rather do the right thing than kill everyone. We are better than that.” Enjolras put a hand on Grantaire’s shoulder. “Now we have very little time left. Are you with me or not?”
Enjolras dropped his hand and didn’t wait for Grantaire’s reply. They didn’t have enough time anymore, and he had a feeling that this was going to go bad. Enjolras pumped his arms as he rounded several corners trying to get as much speed as possible. At the moment it seemed like Luck was on their side. No one moved to interfere with them. In fact there was no one in the halls surrounding the king’s quarters at all.
A chill crept up Enjolras’ spine as he grabbed for the gun in his waistband. Why was no one guarding the door? Enjolras tiptoed his way to the steel enforced door with and odd key pad on it. There were no buttons just a small black screen that jerked to life revealing Enjolras’ own face.
“David Enjolras,” a robotic voice said. “Subject 000. The Creator. Access Granted.” Enjolras swallowed hard. It would recognize him. He was the reason for all of this. He jumped back when the door slammed open revealing a makeshift throne room.
“Ah Monsieur Enjolras. I’ve been expecting you for quite a while. It took you long enough.”
That voice was one that had plague Enjolras for weeks and now it was real.
The King is here.
Of course Grantaire was with him. Whether it was his misplaced fear of Enjolras’s parents haunting him, or because he actually believed Enj knew what he was doing, was beyond him. But at this point, if Enj jumped off a bridge, Grantaire would probably follow him.
This of course didn’t stop him from keeping his gun carefully trained on the king. He wouldn’t kill him. But he wouldn’t hesitate to maim him if he tried anything.
“Great. We found him. Let’s take him and go before he starts monologuing.”
“I don’t think it will be that simple R,” Enjolras replied keeping his gun pointed at the smirking face of Louis-Philippe while eyeing the wall behind the glitzy throne.
“You’re parents would be so proud of you. Finally masquerading as the doctor they always wanted you to be,” the king said through his nose taking in Enjolras’ tattered appearance. “It’s too bad they died trying to save you. I on their other hand have no sympathy for them or for you. They grew soft. Disposing of them was easy enough.” The king let out a small laugh as Enjolras’ grip tightened on the gun. He kept his face steely as he glared at the king. He refused to let the king’s words sway his conviction.
“King Louis-Philippe you are charged with crimes against humanity, incitement, genocide, and murder. You have violated French Law and international law. We are taking you into custody where you will receive a fair and just trial. It’s more than you deserve,” Enjolras finished, steel lining his voice as he took deliberate steps toward the king.
“Take another step and this whole place goes up in smoke,” the king smiles casually playing with a small remote in his hands. He twisted it around his fingers lazily; his eyes were crazed.
“I don’t plan on going to trial sweet Enjolras. You see I don’t quite like the idea of spending years on trial with international bureaucrats dictating my fate or the fate of MY country.”
Enjolras stopped abruptly. His hearts sped up and his mouth went dry as he stared at the remote in the king’s hands. Shaky breaths made their way into his lungs as he focused on the king.
“You would kill everyone here including yourself?”
“I would see the whole world burn Enjolras just to win this little game of ours. The whole world will blame you and your friends. You assassinated the poor incapable king and all of his workers to destroy the evidence of your involvement in the making of the drug.” The king’s voice darkened as his face lost the crazed look and was replaced with anger and darkness. “You are the villain of this story Enjolras. Not me. It will stay that way.”
Enjolras’ chest tightened as his eyes narrowed. His entire body shook as red clouded his vision. He itched to pull the trigger to end this fight to end the lies.
“DAMN YOUR WARNINGS! DAMN YOUR LIES!” Enjolras shouted firing his gun just past the king’s head.
Grantaire didn’t even try to bite back a string of profanity. “What the fuck Enj? Didn’t we just fucking talk about this? I want to shoot him and I’m not doing the ‘right thing’, you do it because he called you a bad dude and no one bats an eye? Come on. You’re better than this.”
He knew taking his gun off the king was a bad idea, but he was more concerned with Enjolras inadvertently blowing up the base. Their friends were there. Innocent people were there. They needed to be smart about this.
“I didn’t shoot him!” Enjolras raged his anger reaching the boiling point. “He has no consideration for anyone’s lives! Not even his own! Or his family’s lives! He’ll kill us all no matter what!” Enjolras yelled in frustration. There was no winning here. They would lose.
“I’ve failed,” Enjolras whispered his shoulders slumped as he lowered his gun.
“Indeed you have.” The king stood up from his throne and stalked toward Enjolras his shoes squeaking on the floor. Louis-Philppe placed a sinister hand on Enjolras’ shoulder and forced the younger man to look up at him. “Did you really think you could win David? You’ve created this entire catastrophe. You are the reason all of your friends are dead, and the reason all of them will die.” The king pressed the detonator into Enjolras’ hands. “Wouldn’t it just be easier if you killed them all and took them all out of their misery?”
Enjolras grasped the king’s hand tightly angry tears rolling down his face. He couldn’t do this anymore.
“Would it not be easier to just let go?” the King asked enticingly as he backed away from Enjolras a sadistic smile spreading across his face.
“Oh come on!” Grantaire snapped, “Being sorry for yourself, is my thing. Get over it. Your part in this was minuscule at best. If it weren’t for you they’d just use someone else’s blood. Don’t let this prick make you feel bad for it.”
Grantaire had an advantage. He was unimportant. The king didn’t have any leverage against him, and even if he did not anything he could make R feel awful for. Being a piece of shit could come in handy.
He needed to get that detonated out of the kings hand. If Enjolras wasn’t going to snap out of it, Grantaire just might have to be useful for once in his life.
Enjolras pushed back all of the grief and helplessness he felt. All of the people he was fighting for felt the same as he did. Enjolras would not let them down now. He tightened his grip on the detonator and stood to his full height, towering over the king.
“You are despicable,” Enjolras spat.
“Well that really is too bad Enjolras. I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to do this.” With trained precision the king whipped out a hidden gun and fired.
Enjolras braced for the pain and waited for it to rip through his stomach. The king laughed sharply.
“Oh I’m sorry. It’s seems as if I wasn’t aiming for you. Not everything is all about you, but it it appears like you’ve failed another friend.”
It took a minute for him to process it all. The coppery taste in his mouth hit first. Then the way his wet shirt started clinging to his torso. Eventually followed by what he could only describe as agony.
How Eponine managed with a bullet wound was beyond Grantaire. He couldn't breath, couldn't think of anything other than how much blood was starting to pool out of him.
The worst part is he was almost close to doing something that mattered. He was almost good for something. He was so close and now he was crumpled at Enjolras's feet, just as useless as he had been that morning.
God. He was pathetic.
Into the Fire
This is it, Enjolras thought as he and Grantaire sprinted down the hallways of the bunker. We have three hours until the alarms turn back on, this bunker is massive.
Enjolras took a left running into a doctor who looked younger than Combeferre. The doctor’s face widened in recognition as they reached for a radio on their hip. He lunged at the young doctor and knocked the radio out of his hand before swiftly knocking him out with the butt of his sword.
“Let’s keep moving.”
Even with the preparation he got from living this long in literal hell, Grantaire felt out of his mind for even agreeing to go along with this. What were they thinking? They were infiltrating a bunker with the king in it. The king. Who did they think they were even trying to attempt this? There were so few of them left, they should focus on, gee, maybe not actively trying to kill themselves.
“Do we have a plan here or are we just going to keep hitting
“Just keep hitting them until everything comes tumbling down,” Enjolras coughed as he skidded into a wall. Pain radiated off of his shoulder as his stitches throbbed. Enjolras let out a slow breath as he looked around the corner. Guards swarmed the entire area, and they were heavily armed. They didn’t have a hope of getting past them.
“Damn it. There has the be a way around them. Unfortunately for us they’ve probably all seen me before so either way it will not be pleasant.”
I just have to get to the King. He needs to pay. He needs to know the wrath of France.
Enjolras hoped that Joly could get that cure up and mobile and that foreign governments would come to their aid. That was the only chance France had now. No blonde revolutionary can dispatch medicine; the world needs a doctor.
“I don’t know what to tell you then. I mean I got what, like, 8 bullets and no clue how to plan a bunker invasion so… I’m really just following you here Apollo. But whatever we do we gotta do it soon.” Grantaire sighed.
Hopefully Enjolras would at least have a general idea of what to do. He always seemed on top of these kind of things. If anyone could make this work, Grantaire supposed, it’d be him.
Enjolras winced. “Yeah I know.” Soon enough the guards had wandered down the hallways far enough from them so they could make a break for the opposite passageway. He peaked into an open door; it seemed to be some story of abandoned lab with some fraying labcoats on the wall.
Enjolras ripped one of the hook and threw it over his tattered clothes. A crappy disguise was better than no disguise.
“I know I literally just said you’re in charge here but don’t we have more important things to do here than play dress up, like kill the king for example?” Grantaire questioned, cocking an eyebrow as he slipped a coat on. They didn’t look very convincing to say the least, still looked like a couple of kids who got dragged through hell, only this time with lab coats.
Enjolras’ eyebrow twitched. “It’s easier to blend in this way, and for the record we are not killing the king. We do not want to start off our new nation with an act of murder.” His mind drifted to the thought of all those charges that would decimate the bunker. It would be an easy win. Quick and efficient, but it wouldn’t be just.
“He will get a fair trial like anyone else, even if he doesn’t deserve it.” Enjolras hid his sword underneath the coat. “Let’s go.”
“Fair trial?” Grantaire snorted, “Of course he doesn’t fucking deserve it. Did Bossuet get a fair trial? Did Marius get a trial? Or Gavroche? Or Combeferre? None of this has been fair, so don’t look me in the eyes and tell me that asshole gets what our friends never will.”
Part of him knew he might be acting, well, like an asshole, but the other part of him didn’t care. Their friends were dead. They should at the very least avenge them.
“Of course he doesn’t deserve it, but I’d rather do the right thing than kill everyone. We are better than that.” Enjolras put a hand on Grantaire’s shoulder. “Now we have very little time left. Are you with me or not?”
Enjolras dropped his hand and didn’t wait for Grantaire’s reply. They didn’t have enough time anymore, and he had a feeling that this was going to go bad. Enjolras pumped his arms as he rounded several corners trying to get as much speed as possible. At the moment it seemed like Luck was on their side. No one moved to interfere with them. In fact there was no one in the halls surrounding the king’s quarters at all.
A chill crept up Enjolras’ spine as he grabbed for the gun in his waistband. Why was no one guarding the door? Enjolras tiptoed his way to the steel enforced door with and odd key pad on it. There were no buttons just a small black screen that jerked to life revealing Enjolras’ own face.
“David Enjolras,” a robotic voice said. “Subject 000. The Creator. Access Granted.” Enjolras swallowed hard. It would recognize him. He was the reason for all of this. He jumped back when the door slammed open revealing a makeshift throne room.
“Ah Monsieur Enjolras. I’ve been expecting you for quite a while. It took you long enough.”
That voice was one that had plague Enjolras for weeks and now it was real.
The King is here.
Of course Grantaire was with him. Whether it was his misplaced fear of Enjolras’s parents haunting him, or because he actually believed Enj knew what he was doing, was beyond him. But at this point, if Enj jumped off a bridge, Grantaire would probably follow him.
This of course didn’t stop him from keeping his gun carefully trained on the king. He wouldn’t kill him. But he wouldn’t hesitate to maim him if he tried anything.
“Great. We found him. Let’s take him and go before he starts monologuing.”
“I don’t think it will be that simple R,” Enjolras replied keeping his gun pointed at the smirking face of Louis-Philippe while eyeing the wall behind the glitzy throne.
“You’re parents would be so proud of you. Finally masquerading as the doctor they always wanted you to be,” the king said through his nose taking in Enjolras’ tattered appearance. “It’s too bad they died trying to save you. I on their other hand have no sympathy for them or for you. They grew soft. Disposing of them was easy enough.” The king let out a small laugh as Enjolras’ grip tightened on the gun. He kept his face steely as he glared at the king. He refused to let the king’s words sway his conviction.
“King Louis-Philippe you are charged with crimes against humanity, incitement, genocide, and murder. You have violated French Law and international law. We are taking you into custody where you will receive a fair and just trial. It’s more than you deserve,” Enjolras finished, steel lining his voice as he took deliberate steps toward the king.
“Take another step and this whole place goes up in smoke,” the king smiles casually playing with a small remote in his hands. He twisted it around his fingers lazily; his eyes were crazed.
“I don’t plan on going to trial sweet Enjolras. You see I don’t quite like the idea of spending years on trial with international bureaucrats dictating my fate or the fate of MY country.”
Enjolras stopped abruptly. His hearts sped up and his mouth went dry as he stared at the remote in the king’s hands. Shaky breaths made their way into his lungs as he focused on the king.
“You would kill everyone here including yourself?”
“I would see the whole world burn Enjolras just to win this little game of ours. The whole world will blame you and your friends. You assassinated the poor incapable king and all of his workers to destroy the evidence of your involvement in the making of the drug.” The king’s voice darkened as his face lost the crazed look and was replaced with anger and darkness. “You are the villain of this story Enjolras. Not me. It will stay that way.”
Enjolras’ chest tightened as his eyes narrowed. His entire body shook as red clouded his vision. He itched to pull the trigger to end this fight to end the lies.
“DAMN YOUR WARNINGS! DAMN YOUR LIES!” Enjolras shouted firing his gun just past the king’s head.
Grantaire didn’t even try to bite back a string of profanity. “What the fuck Enj? Didn’t we just fucking talk about this? I want to shoot him and I’m not doing the ‘right thing’, you do it because he called you a bad dude and no one bats an eye? Come on. You’re better than this.”
He knew taking his gun off the king was a bad idea, but he was more concerned with Enjolras inadvertently blowing up the base. Their friends were there. Innocent people were there. They needed to be smart about this.
“I didn’t shoot him!” Enjolras raged his anger reaching the boiling point. “He has no consideration for anyone’s lives! Not even his own! Or his family’s lives! He’ll kill us all no matter what!” Enjolras yelled in frustration. There was no winning here. They would lose.
“I’ve failed,” Enjolras whispered his shoulders slumped as he lowered his gun.
“Indeed you have.” The king stood up from his throne and stalked toward Enjolras his shoes squeaking on the floor. Louis-Philppe placed a sinister hand on Enjolras’ shoulder and forced the younger man to look up at him. “Did you really think you could win David? You’ve created this entire catastrophe. You are the reason all of your friends are dead, and the reason all of them will die.” The king pressed the detonator into Enjolras’ hands. “Wouldn’t it just be easier if you killed them all and took them all out of their misery?”
Enjolras grasped the king’s hand tightly angry tears rolling down his face. He couldn’t do this anymore.
“Would it not be easier to just let go?” the King asked enticingly as he backed away from Enjolras a sadistic smile spreading across his face.
"Oh come on!" Grantaire snapped, "Being sorry for yourself, is my thing. Get over it. Your part in this was minuscule at best. If it weren't for you they'd just use someone else's blood. Don't let this prick make you feel bad for it."
Grantaire had an advantage. He was unimportant. The king didn't have any leverage against him, and even if he did not anything he could make R feel awful for. Being a piece of shit could come in handy.
He needed to get that detonated out of the kings hand. If Enjolras wasn't going to snap out of it, Grantaire just might have to be useful for once in his life.
Into the Fire
This is it, Enjolras thought as he and Grantaire sprinted down the hallways of the bunker. We have three hours until the alarms turn back on, this bunker is massive.
Enjolras took a left running into a doctor who looked younger than Combeferre. The doctor’s face widened in recognition as they reached for a radio on their hip. He lunged at the young doctor and knocked the radio out of his hand before swiftly knocking him out with the butt of his sword.
“Let’s keep moving.”
Even with the preparation he got from living this long in literal hell, Grantaire felt out of his mind for even agreeing to go along with this. What were they thinking? They were infiltrating a bunker with the king in it. The king. Who did they think they were even trying to attempt this? There were so few of them left, they should focus on, gee, maybe not actively trying to kill themselves.
“Do we have a plan here or are we just going to keep hitting
“Just keep hitting them until everything comes tumbling down,” Enjolras coughed as he skidded into a wall. Pain radiated off of his shoulder as his stitches throbbed. Enjolras let out a slow breath as he looked around the corner. Guards swarmed the entire area, and they were heavily armed. They didn’t have a hope of getting past them.
“Damn it. There has the be a way around them. Unfortunately for us they’ve probably all seen me before so either way it will not be pleasant.”
I just have to get to the King. He needs to pay. He needs to know the wrath of France.
Enjolras hoped that Joly could get that cure up and mobile and that foreign governments would come to their aid. That was the only chance France had now. No blonde revolutionary can dispatch medicine; the world needs a doctor.
“I don’t know what to tell you then. I mean I got what, like, 8 bullets and no clue how to plan a bunker invasion so… I’m really just following you here Apollo. But whatever we do we gotta do it soon.” Grantaire sighed.
Hopefully Enjolras would at least have a general idea of what to do. He always seemed on top of these kind of things. If anyone could make this work, Grantaire supposed, it’d be him.
Enjolras winced. “Yeah I know.” Soon enough the guards had wandered down the hallways far enough from them so they could make a break for the opposite passageway. He peaked into an open door; it seemed to be some story of abandoned lab with some fraying labcoats on the wall.
Enjolras ripped one of the hook and threw it over his tattered clothes. A crappy disguise was better than no disguise.
“I know I literally just said you’re in charge here but don’t we have more important things to do here than play dress up, like kill the king for example?” Grantaire questioned, cocking an eyebrow as he slipped a coat on. They didn’t look very convincing to say the least, still looked like a couple of kids who got dragged through hell, only this time with lab coats.
Enjolras’ eyebrow twitched. “It’s easier to blend in this way, and for the record we are not killing the king. We do not want to start off our new nation with an act of murder.” His mind drifted to the thought of all those charges that would decimate the bunker. It would be an easy win. Quick and efficient, but it wouldn’t be just.
“He will get a fair trial like anyone else, even if he doesn’t deserve it.” Enjolras hid his sword underneath the coat. “Let’s go.”
“Fair trial?” Grantaire snorted, “Of course he doesn’t fucking deserve it. Did Bossuet get a fair trial? Did Marius get a trial? Or Gavroche? Or Combeferre? None of this has been fair, so don’t look me in the eyes and tell me that asshole gets what our friends never will.”
Part of him knew he might be acting, well, like an asshole, but the other part of him didn’t care. Their friends were dead. They should at the very least avenge them.
“Of course he doesn’t deserve it, but I’d rather do the right thing than kill everyone. We are better than that.” Enjolras put a hand on Grantaire’s shoulder. “Now we have very little time left. Are you with me or not?”
Enjolras dropped his hand and didn’t wait for Grantaire’s reply. They didn’t have enough time anymore, and he had a feeling that this was going to go bad. Enjolras pumped his arms as he rounded several corners trying to get as much speed as possible. At the moment it seemed like Luck was on their side. No one moved to interfere with them. In fact there was no one in the halls surrounding the king’s quarters at all.
A chill crept up Enjolras’ spine as he grabbed for the gun in his waistband. Why was no one guarding the door? Enjolras tiptoed his way to the steel enforced door with and odd key pad on it. There were no buttons just a small black screen that jerked to life revealing Enjolras’ own face.
“David Enjolras,” a robotic voice said. “Subject 000. The Creator. Access Granted.” Enjolras swallowed hard. It would recognize him. He was the reason for all of this. He jumped back when the door slammed open revealing a makeshift throne room.
“Ah Monsieur Enjolras. I’ve been expecting you for quite a while. It took you long enough.”
That voice was one that had plague Enjolras for weeks and now it was real.
The King is here.
Of course Grantaire was with him. Whether it was his misplaced fear of Enjolras’s parents haunting him, or because he actually believed Enj knew what he was doing, was beyond him. But at this point, if Enj jumped off a bridge, Grantaire would probably follow him.
This of course didn’t stop him from keeping his gun carefully trained on the king. He wouldn’t kill him. But he wouldn’t hesitate to maim him if he tried anything.
“Great. We found him. Let’s take him and go before he starts monologuing.”
“I don’t think it will be that simple R,” Enjolras replied keeping his gun pointed at the smirking face of Louis-Philippe while eyeing the wall behind the glitzy throne.
“You’re parents would be so proud of you. Finally masquerading as the doctor they always wanted you to be,” the king said through his nose taking in Enjolras’ tattered appearance. “It’s too bad they died trying to save you. I on their other hand have no sympathy for them or for you. They grew soft. Disposing of them was easy enough.” The king let out a small laugh as Enjolras’ grip tightened on the gun. He kept his face steely as he glared at the king. He refused to let the king’s words sway his conviction.
“King Louis-Philippe you are charged with crimes against humanity, incitement, genocide, and murder. You have violated French Law and international law. We are taking you into custody where you will receive a fair and just trial. It’s more than you deserve,” Enjolras finished, steel lining his voice as he took deliberate steps toward the king.
“Take another step and this whole place goes up in smoke,” the king smiles casually playing with a small remote in his hands. He twisted it around his fingers lazily; his eyes were crazed.
“I don’t plan on going to trial sweet Enjolras. You see I don’t quite like the idea of spending years on trial with international bureaucrats dictating my fate or the fate of MY country.”
Enjolras stopped abruptly. His hearts sped up and his mouth went dry as he stared at the remote in the king’s hands. Shaky breaths made their way into his lungs as he focused on the king.
“You would kill everyone here including yourself?”
“I would see the whole world burn Enjolras just to win this little game of ours. The whole world will blame you and your friends. You assassinated the poor incapable king and all of his workers to destroy the evidence of your involvement in the making of the drug.” The king’s voice darkened as his face lost the crazed look and was replaced with anger and darkness. “You are the villain of this story Enjolras. Not me. It will stay that way.”
Enjolras’ chest tightened as his eyes narrowed. His entire body shook as red clouded his vision. He itched to pull the trigger to end this fight to end the lies.
“DAMN YOUR WARNINGS! DAMN YOUR LIES!” Enjolras shouted firing his gun just past the king’s head.
Grantaire didn't even try to bite back a string of profanity. "What the fuck Enj? Didn't we just fucking talk about this? I want to shoot him and I'm not doing the 'right thing', you do it because he called you a bad dude and no one bats an eye? Come on. You're better than this."
He knew taking his gun off the king was a bad idea, but he was more concerned with Enjolras inadvertently blowing up the base. Their friends were there. Innocent people were there. They needed to be smart about this.
Into the Fire
This is it, Enjolras thought as he and Grantaire sprinted down the hallways of the bunker. We have three hours until the alarms turn back on, this bunker is massive.
Enjolras took a left running into a doctor who looked younger than Combeferre. The doctor’s face widened in recognition as they reached for a radio on their hip. He lunged at the young doctor and knocked the radio out of his hand before swiftly knocking him out with the butt of his sword.
“Let’s keep moving.”
Even with the preparation he got from living this long in literal hell, Grantaire felt out of his mind for even agreeing to go along with this. What were they thinking? They were infiltrating a bunker with the king in it. The king. Who did they think they were even trying to attempt this? There were so few of them left, they should focus on, gee, maybe not actively trying to kill themselves.
“Do we have a plan here or are we just going to keep hitting
“Just keep hitting them until everything comes tumbling down,” Enjolras coughed as he skidded into a wall. Pain radiated off of his shoulder as his stitches throbbed. Enjolras let out a slow breath as he looked around the corner. Guards swarmed the entire area, and they were heavily armed. They didn’t have a hope of getting past them.
“Damn it. There has the be a way around them. Unfortunately for us they’ve probably all seen me before so either way it will not be pleasant.”
I just have to get to the King. He needs to pay. He needs to know the wrath of France.
Enjolras hoped that Joly could get that cure up and mobile and that foreign governments would come to their aid. That was the only chance France had now. No blonde revolutionary can dispatch medicine; the world needs a doctor.
“I don’t know what to tell you then. I mean I got what, like, 8 bullets and no clue how to plan a bunker invasion so… I’m really just following you here Apollo. But whatever we do we gotta do it soon.” Grantaire sighed.
Hopefully Enjolras would at least have a general idea of what to do. He always seemed on top of these kind of things. If anyone could make this work, Grantaire supposed, it’d be him.
Enjolras winced. “Yeah I know.” Soon enough the guards had wandered down the hallways far enough from them so they could make a break for the opposite passageway. He peaked into an open door; it seemed to be some story of abandoned lab with some fraying labcoats on the wall.
Enjolras ripped one of the hook and threw it over his tattered clothes. A crappy disguise was better than no disguise.
“I know I literally just said you’re in charge here but don’t we have more important things to do here than play dress up, like kill the king for example?” Grantaire questioned, cocking an eyebrow as he slipped a coat on. They didn’t look very convincing to say the least, still looked like a couple of kids who got dragged through hell, only this time with lab coats.
Enjolras’ eyebrow twitched. “It’s easier to blend in this way, and for the record we are not killing the king. We do not want to start off our new nation with an act of murder.” His mind drifted to the thought of all those charges that would decimate the bunker. It would be an easy win. Quick and efficient, but it wouldn’t be just.
“He will get a fair trial like anyone else, even if he doesn’t deserve it.” Enjolras hid his sword underneath the coat. “Let’s go.”
“Fair trial?” Grantaire snorted, “Of course he doesn’t fucking deserve it. Did Bossuet get a fair trial? Did Marius get a trial? Or Gavroche? Or Combeferre? None of this has been fair, so don’t look me in the eyes and tell me that asshole gets what our friends never will.”
Part of him knew he might be acting, well, like an asshole, but the other part of him didn’t care. Their friends were dead. They should at the very least avenge them.
“Of course he doesn’t deserve it, but I’d rather do the right thing than kill everyone. We are better than that.” Enjolras put a hand on Grantaire’s shoulder. “Now we have very little time left. Are you with me or not?”
Enjolras dropped his hand and didn’t wait for Grantaire’s reply. They didn’t have enough time anymore, and he had a feeling that this was going to go bad. Enjolras pumped his arms as he rounded several corners trying to get as much speed as possible. At the moment it seemed like Luck was on their side. No one moved to interfere with them. In fact there was no one in the halls surrounding the king’s quarters at all.
A chill crept up Enjolras’ spine as he grabbed for the gun in his waistband. Why was no one guarding the door? Enjolras tiptoed his way to the steel enforced door with and odd key pad on it. There were no buttons just a small black screen that jerked to life revealing Enjolras’ own face.
“David Enjolras,” a robotic voice said. “Subject 000. The Creator. Access Granted.” Enjolras swallowed hard. It would recognize him. He was the reason for all of this. He jumped back when the door slammed open revealing a makeshift throne room.
“Ah Monsieur Enjolras. I’ve been expecting you for quite a while. It took you long enough.”
That voice was one that had plague Enjolras for weeks and now it was real.
The King is here.
Of course Grantaire was with him. Whether it was his misplaced fear of Enjolras's parents haunting him, or because he actually believed Enj knew what he was doing, was beyond him. But at this point, if Enj jumped off a bridge, Grantaire would probably follow him.
This of course didn't stop him from keeping his gun carefully trained on the king. He wouldn't kill him. But he wouldn't hesitate to maim him if he tried anything.
"Great. We found him. Let's take him and go before he starts monologuing."
Into the Fire
This is it, Enjolras thought as he and Grantaire sprinted down the hallways of the bunker. We have three hours until the alarms turn back on, this bunker is massive.
Enjolras took a left running into a doctor who looked younger than Combeferre. The doctor’s face widened in recognition as they reached for a radio on their hip. He lunged at the young doctor and knocked the radio out of his hand before swiftly knocking him out with the butt of his sword.
“Let’s keep moving.”
Even with the preparation he got from living this long in literal hell, Grantaire felt out of his mind for even agreeing to go along with this. What were they thinking? They were infiltrating a bunker with the king in it. The king. Who did they think they were even trying to attempt this? There were so few of them left, they should focus on, gee, maybe not actively trying to kill themselves.
“Do we have a plan here or are we just going to keep hitting
“Just keep hitting them until everything comes tumbling down,” Enjolras coughed as he skidded into a wall. Pain radiated off of his shoulder as his stitches throbbed. Enjolras let out a slow breath as he looked around the corner. Guards swarmed the entire area, and they were heavily armed. They didn’t have a hope of getting past them.
“Damn it. There has the be a way around them. Unfortunately for us they’ve probably all seen me before so either way it will not be pleasant.”
I just have to get to the King. He needs to pay. He needs to know the wrath of France.
Enjolras hoped that Joly could get that cure up and mobile and that foreign governments would come to their aid. That was the only chance France had now. No blonde revolutionary can dispatch medicine; the world needs a doctor.
“I don’t know what to tell you then. I mean I got what, like, 8 bullets and no clue how to plan a bunker invasion so… I’m really just following you here Apollo. But whatever we do we gotta do it soon.” Grantaire sighed.
Hopefully Enjolras would at least have a general idea of what to do. He always seemed on top of these kind of things. If anyone could make this work, Grantaire supposed, it’d be him.
Enjolras winced. “Yeah I know.” Soon enough the guards had wandered down the hallways far enough from them so they could make a break for the opposite passageway. He peaked into an open door; it seemed to be some story of abandoned lab with some fraying labcoats on the wall.
Enjolras ripped one of the hook and threw it over his tattered clothes. A crappy disguise was better than no disguise.
“I know I literally just said you’re in charge here but don’t we have more important things to do here than play dress up, like kill the king for example?” Grantaire questioned, cocking an eyebrow as he slipped a coat on. They didn’t look very convincing to say the least, still looked like a couple of kids who got dragged through hell, only this time with lab coats.
Enjolras’ eyebrow twitched. “It’s easier to blend in this way, and for the record we are not killing the king. We do not want to start off our new nation with an act of murder.” His mind drifted to the thought of all those charges that would decimate the bunker. It would be an easy win. Quick and efficient, but it wouldn’t be just.
“He will get a fair trial like anyone else, even if he doesn’t deserve it.” Enjolras hid his sword underneath the coat. “Let’s go.”
"Fair trial?" Grantaire snorted, "Of course he doesn't fucking deserve it. Did Bossuet get a fair trial? Did Marius get a trial? Or Gavroche? Or Combeferre? None of this has been fair, so don't look me in the eyes and tell me that asshole gets what our friends never will."
Part of him knew he might be acting, well, like an asshole, but the other part of him didn't care. Their friends were dead. They should at the very least avenge them.
Into the Fire
This is it, Enjolras thought as he and Grantaire sprinted down the hallways of the bunker. We have three hours until the alarms turn back on, this bunker is massive.
Enjolras took a left running into a doctor who looked younger than Combeferre. The doctor’s face widened in recognition as they reached for a radio on their hip. He lunged at the young doctor and knocked the radio out of his hand before swiftly knocking him out with the butt of his sword.
“Let’s keep moving.”
Even with the preparation he got from living this long in literal hell, Grantaire felt out of his mind for even agreeing to go along with this. What were they thinking? They were infiltrating a bunker with the king in it. The king. Who did they think they were even trying to attempt this? There were so few of them left, they should focus on, gee, maybe not actively trying to kill themselves.
“Do we have a plan here or are we just going to keep hitting
“Just keep hitting them until everything comes tumbling down,” Enjolras coughed as he skidded into a wall. Pain radiated off of his shoulder as his stitches throbbed. Enjolras let out a slow breath as he looked around the corner. Guards swarmed the entire area, and they were heavily armed. They didn’t have a hope of getting past them.
“Damn it. There has the be a way around them. Unfortunately for us they’ve probably all seen me before so either way it will not be pleasant.”
I just have to get to the King. He needs to pay. He needs to know the wrath of France.
Enjolras hoped that Joly could get that cure up and mobile and that foreign governments would come to their aid. That was the only chance France had now. No blonde revolutionary can dispatch medicine; the world needs a doctor.
“I don’t know what to tell you then. I mean I got what, like, 8 bullets and no clue how to plan a bunker invasion so… I’m really just following you here Apollo. But whatever we do we gotta do it soon.” Grantaire sighed.
Hopefully Enjolras would at least have a general idea of what to do. He always seemed on top of these kind of things. If anyone could make this work, Grantaire supposed, it’d be him.
Enjolras winced. “Yeah I know.” Soon enough the guards had wandered down the hallways far enough from them so they could make a break for the opposite passageway. He peaked into an open door; it seemed to be some story of abandoned lab with some fraying labcoats on the wall.
Enjolras ripped one of the hook and threw it over his tattered clothes. A crappy disguise was better than no disguise.
"I know I literally just said you're in charge here but don't we have more important things to do here than play dress up, like kill the king for example?" Grantaire questioned, cocking an eyebrow as he slipped a coat on. They didn't look very convincing to say the least, still looked like a couple of kids who got dragged through hell, only this time with lab coats.
Into the Fire
This is it, Enjolras thought as he and Grantaire sprinted down the hallways of the bunker. We have three hours until the alarms turn back on, this bunker is massive.
Enjolras took a left running into a doctor who looked younger than Combeferre. The doctor’s face widened in recognition as they reached for a radio on their hip. He lunged at the young doctor and knocked the radio out of his hand before swiftly knocking him out with the butt of his sword.
“Let’s keep moving.”
Even with the preparation he got from living this long in literal hell, Grantaire felt out of his mind for even agreeing to go along with this. What were they thinking? They were infiltrating a bunker with the king in it. The king. Who did they think they were even trying to attempt this? There were so few of them left, they should focus on, gee, maybe not actively trying to kill themselves.
“Do we have a plan here or are we just going to keep hitting
“Just keep hitting them until everything comes tumbling down,” Enjolras coughed as he skidded into a wall. Pain radiated off of his shoulder as his stitches throbbed. Enjolras let out a slow breath as he looked around the corner. Guards swarmed the entire area, and they were heavily armed. They didn’t have a hope of getting past them.
“Damn it. There has the be a way around them. Unfortunately for us they’ve probably all seen me before so either way it will not be pleasant.”
I just have to get to the King. He needs to pay. He needs to know the wrath of France.
Enjolras hoped that Joly could get that cure up and mobile and that foreign governments would come to their aid. That was the only chance France had now. No blonde revolutionary can dispatch medicine; the world needs a doctor.
"I don't know what to tell you then. I mean I got what, like, 8 bullets and no clue how to plan a bunker invasion so... I'm really just following you here Apollo. But whatever we do we gotta do it soon." Grantaire sighed.
Hopefully Enjolras would at least have a general idea of what to do. He always seemed on top of these kind of things. If anyone could make this work, Grantaire supposed, it'd be him.
Into the Fire
This is it, Enjolras thought as he and Grantaire sprinted down the hallways of the bunker. We have three hours until the alarms turn back on, this bunker is massive.
Enjolras took a left running into a doctor who looked younger than Combeferre. The doctor’s face widened in recognition as they reached for a radio on their hip. He lunged at the young doctor and knocked the radio out of his hand before swiftly knocking him out with the butt of his sword.
“Let’s keep moving.”
Even with the preparation he got from living this long in literal hell, Grantaire felt out of his mind for even agreeing to go along with this. What were they thinking? They were infiltrating a bunker with the king in it. The king. Who did they think they were even trying to attempt this? There were so few of them left, they should focus on, gee, maybe not actively trying to kill themselves.
"Do we have a plan here or are we just going to keep hitting
The film found hacked into the keypad monitor.
Filmed the day the Apocalypse began.
Transcription of the broadcast below the cut.
Les Amis reconvened in the forest near their exploded barricade. There, they decided there was nowhere to move but forward–they traveled back to the bunker entrance that Feuilly and Cosette found. The moment they hit a button on the keypad, a small screen slid out from the wall and played a video, a video showing two familiar IT people. When the video ended, Les Amis finished plugging in the code from Cosette’s father’s journal. A door opened, allowing entrance to the bunker–but at the same time, a blaring alarm sounded, attracting the attention of Infected people who approached from the forest.
Combeferre & Marius
Once the code to the bunker was punched in, the door opened … which seemed great until the system recognized that the code you were using was an old one and set off an alarm that rang throughout the forest. Now not only are intelligent Infected swarming the bunker but so are normal Infected citizens. Eponine has discovered that ghosts can shift the object they are attached to–now you know that, at the expense of a great amount of energy, you can reattach to a new object, which will enable you to pick it up. Get your hands on a weapon, use it to defend the bunker and keep your friends safe for as long as you can. Another thing you have realized–with all this effort you’ve been exerting, it suddenly feels so tempting to just….let go. You could fade from this world with no more than a thought, and finally be at peace. Your friends need a chance but you deserve peace … do all you can.
Enjolras & Grantaire
Once you get inside the bunker and locate the King you have two options in your limited time frame. In three hours you must decide if the King deserves to live, or if he deserves to die. Blowing up the bunker would be easy, with your code you could access the weapons containment unit and acquire explosives. Set the charges, grab the detonator and BOOM– all of the people who destroyed France are gone, all of the vials of the Medicine are gone, all the bodies of the experimented-on citizens are gone–it’s the first start of a clean slate. However, it’s a big decision to just end the lives of so many people, regardless of how guilty they are. You could lock the King in his sector and once you’ve freed France, give him and his men a trial. It’s the more democratic way to go and possibly the more civilized. Though this isn’t a civilized world anymore … the King made sure of that when he made the Medicine.
Courfeyrac & Gavroche
Now that your friends are trapped in the bunker by a sea of Infected that you’ve managed to escape, you have been sent to the giant electric, razor-wire fence that has been set up along the border of France and all its neighboring countries. Gavroche is with you and will do all he can to protect you. The fence is supposed to keep Infected from leaving France; but it has also stopped help from coming into France. So now you both have to make a choice. You need the help of your neighboring countrymen to help your friends out of the bunker to distribute the cure, BUT if the cure isn’t made in time, then breaking through the fence will allow Infected through with nothing to stop them, dooming more than just France. Foreign governments can help you distribute the cure to your citizens and start rebuilding–so it’s probably a good idea to try to get through the fence. You need all the help you can get, but is it worth putting other countries at risk?
Prouvaire & Feuilly
You all now know that the ingredients for the cure include human body parts. It’s horrid and macabre, but it’s the only way to create an end to all the suffering in France. Is it worth it? If you believe that it is, find the human organs that you need and deliver them to Sector 18, where Cosette and Joly are using the machine to start to assemble a cure. Quickly–there isn’t a second to lose.
Cosette & Joly
Make the cure. You’ve got the key to the special machine that will allow you to mix the cure properly so it’s effective and now all you need is blood of a newly Infected person, human organs which Prouvaire and Feuilly are out getting, and the other chemicals listed on Combeferre’s flash drive. This is what you came all this way to do, this is the defining moment of your story, this is where you either succeed or you don’t … there is no in-between.
Eponine & Musichetta
A swarm of Infected, both intelligent and regular, followed your group into the bunker as you all rushed in. Combeferre and Marius managed to use their whistle to stem the flow of Infected at the entrance and are now fending off more from coming in, but a large amount of them got into the bunker and followed Joly and Cosette to the hallways outside of Room 32 in Sector 18, where the cure can be made. Eponine discovered that ghosts can shift the object they are attached to–now you know that, at the expense of a great amount of energy, you can reattach to a new object, which will enable you to pick it up. Perhaps you could finally get your hands back on a weapon. That, combined with the effect of your whistle on the intelligent Infected, may be enough for you to keep them out of that very important room. Another thing you have realized–with all this effort you’ve been exerting, it suddenly feels so tempting to just….let go. You could fade from this world with no more than a thought, and finally be at peace. It’s seeming very tempting as you struggle against these Infected, but it would mean leaving your friends behind…
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Chapter 13: Death’s Embrace
After Gavroche left the group to go find more supplies, he found himself trapped in the basement of a building, Infected pounding at the door, Combeferre at his side. They tried to find a way for him to escape, but the vents were a dead end. Combeferre offered to go and get help, but Gavroche refused, he did not want to stray the group away from their goal. They finally came up with the plan to open the doors, let Gavroche take out as many Infected as possible, and then Combeferre would come in and drain his energy once he had run out of bullets. After a quite a bit of reflection and coaxing, Gavroche finally opened the door. He shot as many Infected as he could, and once he could do nothing more Combeferre enveloped him in a hug, draining his energy, and ending his life.
Cosette and Feuilly were trusted to figure out where the bunker was and try to get in. They decided to move through the city, since it would be fastest. As they moved, they were attacked by Infected, and Feuilly got a graze to his calf. The two arrived in a building and got down, Cosette worrying about Feuilly’s injury. He handed her the gun and she began to look around. Feuilly was the first to spot the odd arrangement of rocks. Cosette moved to them and saw the keypad. She didn’t know the code. She began to cry and punch the rocks because they were so close. But also so far. Feuilly came over and also grew angry, punching the rocks as well. After a few minutes of being upset, the pair decided to get back to the barricade to inform the others of the location.
Prouvaire and Éponine found a working computer to get all of the information off of Combeferre’s thumb drive. As Jehan began to write out the information into a notebook there was a banging on the door. Éponine left to distract the Infected, which turned out to be her father and his gang. While she distracted them, Jehan finished copying the information just in time, as Éponine’s father shot at her and once discovering she was a ghost began to break into the door. Jehan escapes through a window, managing to close it as they burst through the door. The information and thumb drive were safe in his pocket. After Éponine found him they headed back to the barricade, hopeful for the chance that they had.
Musichetta appeared to Courfeyrac as a ghost while he was fighting the Infected who were trying to make their way past the barricade. At first he wasn’t sure that she was really there, but he talked to her all the same. They talked about Bossuet not blaming Courf for his death, and how much he missed them all. Musichetta told Courf that Combeferre really was dead, but he wasn’t sure he could believe that. They also talked about how she was connected to Joly, and that he couldn’t die or she would disappear. They had a plan to blow up the barricade with the gasoline from a car. Courfeyrac said his goodbyes to Musichetta and in that accepted Combeferre’s death before blowing up the barricade and running off to join his friends.
Joly was tasked with defending the barricade, which he did without conviction or much usefulness. Marius hovered near him, sorry he was unable to help, but Joly didn’t speak much in his apathetic space. Finally, the Infected began to overrun his section of the barricade and he had to call Enjolras over to help, making him less able to speak to Marius.
Joly and Enjolras battled off the Infected on the barricade until they were out of ammo. Joly got shot in the leg and lost all feeling in his legs. Enjolras pulled Joly off of the barricade and onto the ground. Joly informed Enjolras that the blood of a recently Infected person had to be used for the cure but that that specific batch of the cure would not work on the donor.
Transcription of the broadcast below.
The group finally made it to Savoie….only to find it overrun with intelligent Infected. You hurriedly made a barricade from whatever you could find on the outskirts of the city, but warding off the Infected is not enough. Some members need to guard your fragile base while some sneak into the city. And some are off in search of your final destination….
Courfeyrac & Musichetta
If the barricade is breached you will all die and the others won’t have a base to come back to. Also, keeping these intelligent Infected people occupied while your friends are sneaking into the city is of vital importance. If any of you die, information on how to save France will be lost.
Prouvaire & Eponine
It’s risky to sneak into the city with so many intelligent Infected on the prowl, but you need to find a functioning computer. Use Combeferre’s flash drive to retrieve all of the information the group has collected about the cure and to decode any encrypted ingredients. Eponine, do everything in your power to protect Prouvaire and the flash drive from the intelligent Infected.
Feuilly & Cosette
You’re close to the location where you can make the cure–and you have a strong suspicion it’s located in a hidden bunker. The group has entrusted the two of you to find the bunker and figure out how to get inside. Hurry–time is of the essence.
Joly & Marius
If the barricade is breached you will all die and the others won’t have a base to come back to. Also, keeping these intelligent Infected people occupied while your friends are sneaking into the city is of vital importance. If any of you die, information on how to save France will be lost.
Combeferre & Gavroche
Gavroche was sneaking through the city in search of food and other supplies for the group, doing his best to avoid the Infected with the help of Combeferre’s ghost. He came across a likely-looking building, but when he went inside a group of intelligent Infected followed behind him, ready to attack. Now both he and Combeferre are down in the basement of the building, trapped with a horde of Infected pounding against the locked door.
Enjolras & Marius
If the barricade is breached you will all die and the others won’t have a base to come back to. Also, keeping these intelligent Infected people occupied while your friends are sneaking into the city is of vital importance. If any of you die, information on how to save France will be lost.
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