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Description
He's barreling down the road, faster than he's ever driven before. The stench of blood from the back seat grows stronger as the car accelerates, almost as if her life's going right into the engine, her dying body urging the car forward along the beaten up highway. The streetlights flash by, lighting up the speedometer in increments: eighty, eighty-five, ninety, one hundred… then the lights start, bright red and blue dazzling him for a moment, nearly causing him to lose control of the car. It's an old one, certainly no match for the squad cars quickly closing the distance between them. If he keeps this up, they'll have him pinned in no time. An idea starts to form in his head, and he grins as he hits the exit doing 90, watching his stunned pursuers in the rear view mirror as they scramble to follow. It's no use, though: one car slams into another, and it's all over for them.
Hope fills him as he sees the safehouse, just a few yards ahead. He asks if she's still with him, and hears a little moan in reply. He shoves his foot on the brake, sending the car into a spin but coming safely to a stop in front of the door. His heart pounding, he throws the car door open and pulls her out, carrying her to the little shack. There's an awful silence after he kicks the door in lieu of knocking. There's nobody home. He cranes his neck up to see through the window, and recoils in horror when he gets a slight glimpse of his friends' bodies lying on the floor of the shack.

"THERE HE IS!"

The men in black emerge from the woods around the house, pistols drawn. It's been a long night, and now he's finished. She looks into his eyes, nods, and smiles one more time before slipping back into unconsciousness. Sensing that the best thing to do is to obey, he places her gently on the ground and raises his hands above his head as he falls to his knees. The men exchange a nod of their own. After a barely-perceptible pause, shots ring out in the darkness as blood stains her dress. At the same time, one of the men approaches him, shoving his shoulder and shouting his name.

"Weiss! Hey, Weiss, wake up!"
He opened his eyes to see Penelope kneeling beside his bed, nudging him by the shoulder.
"Penny… Hey. Good to see you…"
"You alright? You kept moaning, and it took me forever to get you up… I was worried you got food poisoning or something."
"No, I'm fine. Just a bad dream."
"What were you dreaming about?"
Weiss turned over to his side to mask his lingering tension. "Nothing. Don't worry about it."
"Well, what did I have to do with it?"
Weiss's stomach lurched. "What?"
"You were saying my name! That's what I came in here for in the first place!"
"Ah, well…" He sat up in his bed and sighed. He explained the dream to Penelope, who listened intently.
"That's pretty depressing," she said when he was finished. "You're sure it was me who was dying?"
"Yeah, I'm positive."
"I'm sorry my dream-self scared you like that, Weiss." Penelope got up and walked into the hall. "I'll make sure to keep her on a shorter leash," she called back into the room. "C'mon, we've got things to do today! Let's get going!"
Weiss got out of bed and hobbled into their makeshift kitchen, where Penelope was struggling to prepare pancakes on a hotplate. He nudged her aside, taking over the frying pan.
"Sorry, Penny, but I'd like these to be edible."
She gave a resigned sigh. "Why do you have to be so much better at cooking than I am?"
"I've been cooking for years, and you didn't even have real food where you came from." He flipped a pancake. "What do we have to do today? I don’t remember having any plans."
"We got a letter from Manfred the other day. He wants to see how we're doing, so we're going to meet him in the park this afternoon."
"What? Do we have to?"
"Yes, we do. And before you say anything else, if you don't go, I'll just skip the other part of our plans and move it to next week."
"What other part?"
"You're due for a checkup, Weiss. I think your leg's healed, and we might be able to get that cast off today, but if you're too tired to see your friend, then I can understand…"
"You can't do that!"
Penelope giggled. "Sure I can. Do you see any other doctors around here?"
"You're anything but a doctor. Besides, I could just go to a hospital."
" You've got no identification, no previous record of your broken leg, and no insurance. So, good luck with that. Now, I'm full up until later next week…"
"Fine," Weiss groaned. "I'll go see him with you." He tipped the frying pan over, sliding the pancakes onto a pair of plates. "There you go," he said, setting one of the plates in front of Penelope.
"Thanks," she replied, digging into her breakfast. They finished the food quickly: the hotplate didn't allow for much to be prepared at once. Penelope tousled Weiss's hair as she cleared the lab table.
"C'mon, Weiss. Let's get that thing off of you."
He got up, and followed Penelope into the medical wing.

. . .

The saw buzzed with a high-pitched squeal as it slowly ground into the cast. Weiss could feel his leg vibrating, the sound drowning everything else out as it moved through his body. Penelope stared intently at her work, carefully guiding the saw deeper into the plaster. She had to be especially careful; there wasn't a proper guide on the saw, and so she could easily slip up and cut into the skin underneath the cast.
After an hour of careful work, the cast was ready to be removed. "Alright," Penelope said as she gripped the insides of the crevasse she'd created, "here goes nothing…" She gave one quick, hard pull, and it broke apart, revealing the sore, red leg underneath.
"Aha! Would you look at that, it's perfect! Weiss, do you want to keep this?"
"N-no, thanks." His heart was racing. "You told me you knew what you were doing, Penny!"
"What are you talking about?"
"You nearly cut my leg right in half!"
"I did not! Come on, then, get up and walk around on that leg for me."
Weiss stood, tenderly putting pressure on the leg. Soon, he began to walk around the room, and a grin formed on his face.
"I never thought I'd appreciate both of my legs so much. Thanks, Penny."
"It's nothing." She paused. "You know, if it'd make you feel better, you don't have to come with me this afternoon. I'll just tell him you couldn't get out because of your leg, and-”
“Nah, that's okay. Now that I've thought about it a little, I do kind of miss him...”
“Really? I thought you couldn't stand him.”
“Hey, don't make me change my mind! I'm also kind of curious as to how he hasn't, y'know... starved.”
Penelope giggled. “Oh, come on, Weiss, I'm sure he got a job.”
“That, or he's robbing banks.”
“Manfred the Fugitive... I can't imagine that.” Penelope sighed, wringing her hands and looking down at the floor.
“Something wrong, Penny?”
“No—well, yes. I have a confession...”
Weiss was apprehensive. “What is it?”
“That... that was my first time taking off a plaster cast.”
“I thought you were an expert in first aid or something!”
“Well, I've done plenty of casts, but I've always gotten someone else to cut it off... the saw scares me...”
Weiss groaned. “Well, I guess I'm lucky you didn't do any damage.”
Penelope laughed sheepishly. “That's the spirit...”

. . .

The park was completely empty, which suited Weiss fine. The trees were bare and the grass was dying—winter was just around the corner. The two of them sat on a wooden bench, waiting for Manfred. He was late: 10, 20, and 30 minutes passed by with no sight of him. The wind started to pick up, and the temperature dropped quickly. The sweater Penelope had on wasn't enough, and she started to shiver.
“He'd better show up fast,” she muttered. “Otherwise I'm going to be too cold to kick his ass.”
Weiss laughed. “This was your idea, remember?”
“No, this was his idea!”
“We'll give him another ten minutes.” He watched Penelope, staring off into the distance with a scowl and wrapping her arms around herself. He put an arm around her shoulder and closed the distance between them.
“Weiss...” She sighed. “Thank you, that's a lot better.”
“Don't mention it. What are friends for, eh?”
Penelope nodded, curling up against him. “Yeah, exactly. You know, I was thinking—“ She cut herself off, sitting up suddenly. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
At that, everything went black. Weiss was being dragged from the bench by his arms, his head suddenly wrapped in black fabric. He tried to struggle, but felt weakened somehow, as though he was losing control of himself.
“Get the hell away from him!” he heard Penelope scream, followed by a small explosion beside him. He was suddenly pulled to his feet, held up by his shoulders. “I swear, if you don't let him go right now—“
There was a gunshot, and then a scream. Weiss's heart lurched, and he tried once more to break free from his captor, but to no avail. His consciousness was slipping now, and the last thing he heard was Penelope muttering “Leave him alone” before he fell into a deep, painful sleep.

Description
He's barreling down the road, faster than he's ever driven before. The stench of blood from the back seat grows stronger as the car accelerates, almost as if her life's going right into the engine, her dying body urging the car forward along the beaten up highway. The streetlights flash by, lighting up the speedometer in increments: eighty, eighty-five, ninety, one hundred… then the lights start, bright red and blue dazzling him for a moment, nearly causing him to lose control of the car. It's an old one, certainly no match for the squad cars quickly closing the distance between them. If he keeps this up, they'll have him pinned in no time. An idea starts to form in his head, and he grins as he hits the exit doing 90, watching his stunned pursuers in the rear view mirror as they scramble to follow. It's no use, though: one car slams into another, and it's all over for them.
Hope fills him as he sees the safehouse, just a few yards ahead. He asks if she's still with him, and hears a little moan in reply. He shoves his foot on the brake, sending the car into a spin but coming safely to a stop in front of the door. His heart pounding, he throws the car door open and pulls her out, carrying her to the little shack. There's an awful silence after he kicks the door in lieu of knocking. There's nobody home. He cranes his neck up to see through the window, and recoils in horror when he gets a slight glimpse of his friends' bodies lying on the floor of the shack.

"THERE HE IS!"

The men in black emerge from the woods around the house, pistols drawn. It's been a long night, and now he's finished. She looks into his eyes, nods, and smiles one more time before slipping back into unconsciousness. Sensing that the best thing to do is to obey, he places her gently on the ground and raises his hands above his head as he falls to his knees. The men exchange a nod of their own. After a barely-perceptible pause, shots ring out in the darkness as blood stains her dress. At the same time, one of the men approaches him, shoving his shoulder and shouting his name.

"Weiss! Hey, Weiss, wake up!"
He opened his eyes to see Penelope kneeling beside his bed, nudging him by the shoulder.
"Penny… Hey. Good to see you…"
"You alright? You kept moaning, and it took me forever to get you up… I was worried you got food poisoning or something."
"No, I'm fine. Just a bad dream."
"What were you dreaming about?"
Weiss turned over to his side to mask his lingering tension. "Nothing. Don't worry about it."
"Well, what did I have to do with it?"
Weiss's stomach lurched. "What?"
"You were saying my name! That's what I came in here for in the first place!"
"Ah, well…" He sat up in his bed and sighed. He explained the dream to Penelope, who listened intently.
"That's pretty depressing," she said when he was finished. "You're sure it was me who was dying?"
"Yeah, I'm positive."
"I'm sorry my dream-self scared you like that, Weiss." Penelope got up and walked into the hall. "I'll make sure to keep her on a shorter leash," she called back into the room. "C'mon, we've got things to do today! Let's get going!"
Weiss got out of bed and hobbled into their makeshift kitchen, where Penelope was struggling to prepare pancakes on a hotplate. He nudged her aside, taking over the frying pan.
"Sorry, Penny, but I'd like these to be edible."
She gave a resigned sigh. "Why do you have to be so much better at cooking than I am?"
"I've been cooking for years, and you didn't even have real food where you came from." He flipped a pancake. "What do we have to do today? I don’t remember having any plans."
"We got a letter from Manfred the other day. He wants to see how we're doing, so we're going to meet him in the park this afternoon."
"What? Do we have to?"
"Yes, we do. And before you say anything else, if you don't go, I'll just skip the other part of our plans and move it to next week."
"What other part?"
"You're due for a checkup, Weiss. I think your leg's healed, and we might be able to get that cast off today, but if you're too tired to see your friend, then I can understand…"
"You can't do that!"
Penelope giggled. "Sure I can. Do you see any other doctors around here?"
"You're anything but a doctor. Besides, I could just go to a hospital."
" You've got no identification, no previous record of your broken leg, and no insurance. So, good luck with that. Now, I'm full up until later next week…"
"Fine," Weiss groaned. "I'll go see him with you." He tipped the frying pan over, sliding the pancakes onto a pair of plates. "There you go," he said, setting one of the plates in front of Penelope.
"Thanks," she replied, digging into her breakfast. They finished the food quickly: the hotplate didn't allow for much to be prepared at once. Penelope tousled Weiss's hair as she cleared the lab table.
"C'mon, Weiss. Let's get that thing off of you."
He got up, and followed Penelope into the medical wing.

. . .

The saw buzzed with a high-pitched squeal as it slowly ground into the cast. Weiss could feel his leg vibrating, the sound drowning everything else out as it moved through his body. Penelope stared intently at her work, carefully guiding the saw deeper into the plaster. She had to be especially careful; there wasn't a proper guide on the saw, and so she could easily slip up and cut into the skin underneath the cast.
After an hour of careful work, the cast was ready to be removed. "Alright," Penelope said as she gripped the insides of the crevasse she'd created, "here goes nothing…" She gave one quick, hard pull, and it broke apart, revealing the sore, red leg underneath.
"Aha! Would you look at that, it's perfect! Weiss, do you want to keep this?"
"N-no, thanks." His heart was racing. "You told me you knew what you were doing, Penny!"
"What are you talking about?"
"You nearly cut my leg right in half!"
"I did not! Come on, then, get up and walk around on that leg for me."
Weiss stood, tenderly putting pressure on the leg. Soon, he began to walk around the room, and a grin formed on his face.
"I never thought I'd appreciate both of my legs so much. Thanks, Penny."
"It's nothing." She paused. "You know, if it'd make you feel better, you don't have to come with me this afternoon. I'll just tell him you couldn't get out because of your leg, and-”
“Nah, that's okay. Now that I've thought about it a little, I do kind of miss him...”
“Really? I thought you couldn't stand him.”
“Hey, don't make me change my mind! I'm also kind of curious as to how he hasn't, y'know... starved.”
Penelope giggled. “Oh, come on, Weiss, I'm sure he got a job.”
“That, or he's robbing banks.”
“Manfred the Fugitive... I can't imagine that.” Penelope sighed, wringing her hands and looking down at the floor.
“Something wrong, Penny?”
“No—well, yes. I have a confession...”
Weiss was apprehensive. “What is it?”
“That... that was my first time taking off a plaster cast.”
“I thought you were an expert in first aid or something!”
“Well, I've done plenty of casts, but I've always gotten someone else to cut it off... the saw scares me...”
Weiss groaned. “Well, I guess I'm lucky you didn't do any damage.”
Penelope laughed sheepishly. “That's the spirit...”

. . .

The park was completely empty, which suited Weiss fine. The trees were bare and the grass was dying—winter was just around the corner. The two of them sat on a wooden bench, waiting for Manfred. He was late: 10, 20, and 30 minutes passed by with no sight of him. The wind started to pick up, and the temperature dropped quickly. The sweater Penelope had on wasn't enough, and she started to shiver.
“He'd better show up fast,” she muttered. “Otherwise I'm going to be too cold to kick his ass.”
Weiss laughed. “This was your idea, remember?”
“No, this was his idea!”
“We'll give him another ten minutes.” He watched Penelope, staring off into the distance with a scowl and wrapping her arms around herself. He put an arm around her shoulder and closed the distance between them.
“Weiss...” She sighed. “Thank you, that's a lot better.”
“Don't mention it. What are friends for, eh?”
Penelope nodded, curling up against him. “Yeah, exactly. You know, I was thinking—“ She cut herself off, sitting up suddenly. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
At that, everything went black. Weiss was being dragged from the bench by his arms, his head suddenly wrapped in black fabric. He tried to struggle, but felt weakened somehow, as though he was losing control of himself.
“Get the hell away from him!” he heard Penelope scream, followed by a small explosion beside him. He was suddenly pulled to his feet, held up by his shoulders. “I swear, if you don't let him go right now—“
There was a gunshot, and then a scream. Weiss's heart lurched, and he tried once more to break free from his captor, but to no avail. His consciousness was slipping now, and the last thing he heard was Penelope muttering “Leave him alone” before he fell into a deep, painful sleep.