Those hands are soon around his neck, tightening and squeezing mercilessly. Tim gropes for the splicer's wrists but he can't pry them away. He's too strong, made wild and powerful with ADAM.
When the hands tear away, Tim has barely any mental capacity for anything but coughing, spluttering and gasping as he sucks the air greedily into his lungs. The screams reach him only distantly.
Screams.
Screams, plural.
Oh shit.
Tim staggers to his feet. He has to brace himself against the wall to stay upright. Jay jabs the knife into the bastard, again and again and again and again, poking it full of holes, but it's long since stopped twitching.
"Jay," says Tim, but his voice creaks out dry and rusty. He coughs and has to try again, louder. "Jay. Jay."
Nothing. Still nothing. Tim drops into a crouch and moves closer until he can seize Jay's wrist, the one holding the knife, and force it still.
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When the hands tear away, Tim has barely any mental capacity for anything but coughing, spluttering and gasping as he sucks the air greedily into his lungs. The screams reach him only distantly.
Screams.
Screams, plural.
Oh shit.
Tim staggers to his feet. He has to brace himself against the wall to stay upright. Jay jabs the knife into the bastard, again and again and again and again, poking it full of holes, but it's long since stopped twitching.
"Jay," says Tim, but his voice creaks out dry and rusty. He coughs and has to try again, louder. "Jay. Jay."
Nothing. Still nothing. Tim drops into a crouch and moves closer until he can seize Jay's wrist, the one holding the knife, and force it still.
"It's okay," he says, panting. "He's dead, okay?"