The water was just below his chin now. It filled the room from wall to wall. The chair he'd been sitting in was bobbing up and down beside him. Above him, just a few inches from his hair, was a metal grate with a dim light shining through it. Standing on top of the grate, wearing polished black shoes and a pressed suit, was Leo. He was smirking down at Morgan with that devilish look of his as he pushed his sunglasses up onto his forehead. His eyes were yellow and the pupils were cat like slits.
"How did we come to this, Morgan?" Leo asked. "All these years, all this chasing and fighting and running. We could have been something, my friend. You could have been something."
He tutted reproachfully.
"Well, like I always say: Regret not. Goodbye, Morgan."
Leo flicked his sunglasses back down and walked away. A moment later the light flicked off. Morgan was in total darkness. The water was slowly rising. It was above his lips now.
He awoke on a wooden floor, drenched with water that was pooling up in a small puddle around him. He coughed up water and rolled onto his side, spitting out great lungfuls. His eyes squinted against the dim light of the room, which to him seemed bright as the sun, and through his blurred vision he tried to look around. It was a plain, square room. Wood floor, wood walls, wood ceiling, as far as he could tell. The door was open and in the doorway there stood a dark, shadowy figure whose details he could not discern.
"Who-" he coughed up more water again and pushed to sit on his knees. "What's going on?"
We had a deal, Morgan Wright.
The figure lifted a hand and Morgan blacked out.
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The next time he came to, he was lying in a bed. He wore a hospital gown and had a small bag of IV fluid hanging from the iron bed frame. Morgan slowly sat up, grimacing. It was difficult to do. His body felt weak, tired, lifeless. He tried to speak but what came out was a dried croak.
Slowly, Morgan pulled the covers away and stood up, falling immediately with a crash to the wood floor. He tore his IV out and snarled angrily and stood once more, lurching toward the door. His shoulder slammed against the wall and he grunted, reaching out with hands that were too pale and thin to be his to the doorknob.
"How did we come to this, Morgan?" Leo asked. "All these years, all this chasing and fighting and running. We could have been something, my friend. You could have been something."
He tutted reproachfully.
"Well, like I always say: Regret not. Goodbye, Morgan."
Leo flicked his sunglasses back down and walked away. A moment later the light flicked off. Morgan was in total darkness. The water was slowly rising. It was above his lips now.
He awoke on a wooden floor, drenched with water that was pooling up in a small puddle around him. He coughed up water and rolled onto his side, spitting out great lungfuls. His eyes squinted against the dim light of the room, which to him seemed bright as the sun, and through his blurred vision he tried to look around. It was a plain, square room. Wood floor, wood walls, wood ceiling, as far as he could tell. The door was open and in the doorway there stood a dark, shadowy figure whose details he could not discern.
"Who-" he coughed up more water again and pushed to sit on his knees. "What's going on?"
We had a deal, Morgan Wright.
The figure lifted a hand and Morgan blacked out.
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The next time he came to, he was lying in a bed. He wore a hospital gown and had a small bag of IV fluid hanging from the iron bed frame. Morgan slowly sat up, grimacing. It was difficult to do. His body felt weak, tired, lifeless. He tried to speak but what came out was a dried croak.
Slowly, Morgan pulled the covers away and stood up, falling immediately with a crash to the wood floor. He tore his IV out and snarled angrily and stood once more, lurching toward the door. His shoulder slammed against the wall and he grunted, reaching out with hands that were too pale and thin to be his to the doorknob.