From light into darkness, Ryan fell.

The door was closed quickly and, before he could react, he was spun around. A hand pressed against his mouth and material was slipped over his head, returning him to the night he'd just left. At least, thankfully, it stopped the needles drilling into his eyes.

"Quiet!"

The smell of the hand's skin was the first thing he noticed. Fresh. Clean. Roses? Neither the smell, size nor amount of pressure belonged to those he expected. The voice, too, wasn't that of the hopefully still incapacitated Jarvis. If not him, then it should have been Kravitz, who'd have been much more forceful in his capture.

So, who? The feminine voice was familiar, and he couldn't...

What? No!

"Pedra?"

The name was muffled, pushing through the thin fingers covering his lips.

"I said shut up! Don't say another word. Just follow me."

"But...?"

The hand released his mouth and slapped his face. Little force was applied, which was reduced more by the cloth covering his head, but he took the hint. He nodded. He heard footsteps moving away, but the hood prevented him from following as instructed.

"Shit!" Pedra hissed.

She returned quickly and took his arm, pulling him along.

"Keep up, or I'll have to leave you."

Ryan did his best to go where Pedra was leading him, only stumbling once. He tripped over his own feet and fell to the floor. His hands went out instinctively to protect him, and he felt a shot of pain as something cracked in his right wrist. He cried out, which brought another slap.

"Shut the fuck up! Don't you listen? I'm trying to help you!"

He scrambled up. His wrist was painful and he moaned through gritted teeth.

"Hurt yourself?"

He nodded.

"Well, tough. You should be more careful. We'll look at it later, if we get chance. For now, suck it up, idiot."

If she was helping him, perhaps she was the idiot. He'd seen what her boss was capable of, and anyone who would so willingly kill themselves was not someone to cross.

Had Bradley, by shooting another version of herself, committed a warped version of suicide? Suicide by proxy? Murder suicide? His head spun with the possibilities, and the whirlwind pulled in the other bizarre details that had presented themselves. Most notably, this included his fourteen deaths.

The bizarre aspect of his repeated murder was not the impossible number of occurrences, but the fact he wasn't more shocked. If he had died, he'd also come back to life. Who could do that? Science had yet to reach the point of resurrection, or people would be bringing back loved ones. Children. Pets. Great leaders. Elvis would be headlining in Las Vegas. Nelson Mandela would be in the audience, next to Martin Luther King and Queen Victoria.

Besides, those who wielded such power would be sure to take advantage of it. They'd sell opportunities to the highest bidders, of which there'd be plenty. They wouldn't keep their prisoners in simple cells in a warehouse. It would be more state of the art, with decent security. Probably biometric, to ensure those who were meant to be kept caged were unable to do exactly what he'd done.

Escaped.

Excep, his attempt had quickly resulted in him being blinded once more, and being led to his potential doom. Pedra had said she was helping him. She was Bradley's minion, and he didn't believe that for a second.

So, why follow her then?

What option did he have? At least it meant he was going further inwards, and away from his cage. Away from what would be a furious Jarvis. He might be back with the doctor in moments and, if so, he was prepared for it. She would get no chance to speak to him. No chance to pull a gun. Finding Jarvis's face in the darkness had given him confidence in his aim. If he was still hooded, he'd kick or punch or dive for the sound of her voice.

He would take her down, even if it meant he would go down with her. If he was once more in her presence, his desired answers would evaporate before him. He would have no need for her or for himself. If he was then brought back again, he would kill himself – real suicide – each time until they just let him stay dead.

"OK, stop. Wait here."

Pedra briefly held him still by his shoulders, then let go. She crept away, moving slightly to the right of the direction he was facing. Her footsteps quickly faded.

Shit. She'd left him to be found! Fuck this!

Ryan closed his eyes and pulled the cloth from his head. Automatically, he used his right hand, but stopped when pain exploded in his wrist. Bastard! OK, left hand it was. He dropped the hood and opened his eyes slowly, allowing himself time to become accustomed to the light.

Why was this light such a struggle to adjust to, when he'd had no problems being in a room with Bradley? He had a suspicion the doctor had a part in that, and was reluctantly grateful.

Blinking, he looked around. Pedra was returning. She was at the far end of a long corridor, swiftly running on her tip toes. It was an awkwardly graceful gait that utilised speed and discretion. He doubted he could be so light of foot in the same situation.

What was wrong with him? Gratitude? Admiration? Where was the hate? The disgust? The urge to pummel faces into pulp?

When Pedra saw Ryan watching, she stopped and beckoned him towards her. As he took a step, she indicated the discarded hood, making an urgent pick up gesture. Reluctantly, he did as she asked. The cloth might come in useful for ramming down her throat if she crossed him.

When he reached her, Pedra pulled him close and whispered:

"They're all bothered about the chaos you've created in the Store Room. That was a smart move. I can get you a bit further, then you're on your own. Got it?"

"No, I don't 'got it'. Why are you helping me?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, of course it fucking does. I don't know anything about you, her or this place. Why should I trust you?"

"You shouldn't. Of course not. But you'll do as I tell say. It's either that or go back that way. Your choice."

He shrugged. He did, though he didn't know why, trust her. She wasn't dragging him to her boss and nor was she raising the alarm. It might be a trick, but why do that?

"You've seen how she treats me. How she treats everyone. We're all just disposables kept around to help reach their goal. Sure, we'll be rewarded, but we get shit on in the meantime. I didn't sign up to be humiliated daily."

"What is their goal, though? Why does she need you or me or any of us?"

"To save the world."

Though her face showed anger to match her words, her voice was wrapped in a thick layer of awe as she said those words. She believed in them. She just didn't like the journey there.

"From what? How?"

"We don't have time," Pedra said, her tone normal once more. "Let's go."

Of course there wasn't time. Pausing any more would tell him what he needed to know. They couldn't have that. Wait until the carrot was dangled, then run on, holding it above his head to entice him along too.

Ryan sighed, but followed.

The corridor had occasional doorways. Some were open, the rooms beyond empty. Some were offices, while others resembled the hospital type ones he'd been held in. Abruptly, he stopped in front of a partially open door. On the floor was a woman's body. She'd been shot in the head. On a sofa was a tablet and mobile phone. Bradley was absent.

"Wait," he said.

He glanced up and down the hall and entered.

"No!" exclaimed Pedra. "That's her office. You can't!"

Ryan was already back. In his hand was Bradley's phone.

"I fucking can," he said.

"Put it back. She'll know you've got it."

"Good. She can come and get it, then."

"You don't understand. She's not a bad person, she's just..."

"Trying to save the world. I know. If she's so amazing, why are you doing this?"

Turmoil contorted her face for a moment as she fought with herself.

"Fine," she agreed. "Let's just go. Please."

"I'm waiting for you," Ryan said, smiling for the first time.

Pedra scowled, then turned and hurried off. Ryan followed. The pain in his wrist was easing, though swelling was evident. He was sure adrenaline and the small taste of victory was having an anaesthetic effect on whatever damage he'd done, but didn't care. Bradley wasn't as infallible as she thought.

The corridor ended at a junction. Pedra crouched, pulling Ryan down, and peered around the corners. She put her finger against her lips. He didn't need it to know he should remain silent. He could hear someone speaking into a radio.

"Oscar 15, that's how!"

"I knew he was going to cause trouble. Just cos Bradley thinks he's the one they're after, she's giving him too many chances."

"If he is, though, maybe we'll get a day off!"

"Chance'd be a fine thing."

"You too get a fucking room. Quit the noise andget on with your job, which, right now, is crowd control."