Bogdan Lusk only remembered that Nathan Brant opened the secret passage door before a bomb had gone off. A wave of pain and broken glass along with distant curses and crashes form some unseen IED in the main museum followed and knocked him down, bleeding all over.

Nathan hauled him along—had already grabbed the box—and began to scream in his face.

"Where's Sonny!? Where the fuck is Sonny!?"

Bogdan's left side was riddled with little bits of glass, broken metal, and splinters. Nothing deep and a lot just in his suit, but still thorough in its coverage of his side.

Grabbed Brant's arm and hauled himself up to lean on the door frame and roared the first thing that seemed good to shout, "Godric fucking Durst killed him!"

Pulled the commando dagger from his belt then, and pressed it into Nathan's trembling hand. Wet eyes glanced at the blade, and he muttered, "Blooded after all."

Lusk only stared at him—wanted to yell at him to step the fuck aside. The pain was bad and he knew the walk back to Nathan's car would be worse.

There was a trembling sigh, before a firm hand around his shoulders as the mustached face turned red, leading him into the darkness.

"Let's go..." he mumbled. "Let's go."

"You're fucking driving," Lusk spat this as one long sentence, "I have business on the continent! Get me to the coast!"

----------

230 words.

IWJKeller.com