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“Fuck you, fuck your friends, and fuck the ‘Corpse Bride’ over there.” Poacher took hold of Oz’s shoulder and pulled him away from the scene, careful to keep the barrel of his weapon pointed at Draugr.

“That creepy decomposing bitch comes near my boy again, and we’re all gonna see how her weird regeneration thing deals with being cremated. ”

The woman watched their retreat with predatory eyes, her entire body tense, waiting for an opening. She took a step forward to follow them.

Monty’s hand shot out in front of her to halt her progress.

“Now, now… there’s no need for that , Miss Stoneblood.

” Monty looked quite pleased over this entire fight, like it had gone exactly as he’d planned.

“A deal is a deal. Higgins? Please be so kind as to tell Oklahoma Mike to cooperate fully with Oz’s investigation.

Whatever he needs. Anything Oz asks, is me asking.

” He straightened his coat. “Nothing moves in this city without one of my Irregulars hearing about it, Mr. Dimico. Take my word for it: you will soon find Mercygiver. Oklahoma Mike has never failed me.”

“You’re sending Oz to talk to a pimp? ” Poacher asked in amazed disbelief. “ Oz?”

“I’m sending Oswald to talk to a dear friend and a valued member of my Irregulars.

” Monty sounded almost insulted. “I’m terribly sorry if the help isn’t coming from a source which meets your stringent moral standards, Sydney.

” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “I know how offended you are by depravity.”

“And the other matter, sir?” Higgins asked seriously. “We just got word of it, and…”

Monty smiled deviously, like he was enjoying knowing something that no one else did. “Oh, I think our teammates can take care of it, don’t worry.” He said softly. “They’ll figure it out in time.”

“And if they don’t, sir?” Higgins whispered.

Monty shrugged, looking unconcerned.

“What’s. Going. On? ” Wyatt demanded again, spacing the words out because he thought his audience was too stupid to understand.

Which, to be fair, more than half of them probably were.

“Don’t we have enough problems without you morons killing each other in a very public hallway?

Huh?” Wyatt pointed towards the ICU. “Mull is in there right now fighting for her life and…”

Oz looked down at the floor, recognizing that Wyatt was right. He needed to keep his anger under control. He didn’t want to hurt anyone…

He was losing it.

He was a good person… Nothing like his aunt had said… He wasn’t an evil man and he never would be.

Normally in cases like this, he’d just go shopping at the store and see Miss Quentin, who always calmed him down and brought his obsessions under control, but that obviously was an impossibility this time.

His hands were shaking as he started to silently count to five, again and again, trying desperately to get ahold of himself using one of his rituals.

One-two-three-four-five-One-two-three-four-five…

It wasn’t working.

Oz was losing it.

Without Miss Quentin, Oz was losing it.

“Yes, we’re all aware of where she is, thank you , Ferral.

” Monty turned to smile innocently at Wyatt.

“We’re all just so overset about this tragedy which has befallen our dear teammate, and I think we’re all feeling on edge.

” He held his top hat over his heart, his voice somewhere between taunting mockery and terrible acting.

“I hope she knows that everyone in the Purchasing and Production Department is praying for her speedy recovery. We are simply prostrate with grief over this senseless heartbreak.”

Draugr grinned in amusement at her boss’ barely concealed sarcasm.

“I can see you’re really broken up about it, Welles.” Wyatt pointed at him. “Out. Now.”

“Frankly, I wouldn’t want help from any god which would listen to Monty’s prayers, anyway.” Poacher informed no one in particular. “’Prolly like that ‘Temple of Doom’ god, or somethin’ with all skulls and chanting and shit.”

Oz focused his entire mind on not simply killing Montgomery before the man could say another word.

Ten quadrillion voices started telling him to go for it, pledging their assistance if he did and sharing with him all of the reasons why Monty deserved it. Whispering to him from the floor tiles and the wallpaper and his own contaminated hands…

One-two-three-four-five-One-two-three-four-five…

Wyatt ignored that, remaining focused on Montgomery. “I don’t know what you’re really doing here, but I want you and your little friends to leave .” He told the other man again, pointing at the door. “ Now .”

Monty tipped his top hat theatrically. “And so we shall.” He limped towards the elevators.

“Still, you’ll never know how glad I am that you’re here, Wyatt.

It’s right where you should be. Trust me on that.

” The elevator doors started to close and the man smiled again like he was enjoying a private joke.

“Good luuuuck …” He all but sang before disappearing from view.

Poacher waited until Monty was gone, then slipped his weapon back into its holster strapped to his back.

He turned to glare at Oz as he made his way back towards the doors to the ICU.

“Not to question your decision-making here New Guy, but maybe you should chill the fuck out before deciding to piss off ‘Dr. Strangelove’ and his undead army, huh?”

“Montgomery doesn’t scare me.” Oz informed him, taking a deep breath to steady his mind.

“I ain’t afraid of rattlesnakes either, but I sure as hell wouldn’t go out of my way to fuck with one.” He paused. “Unless I was hungry. You ever had rattlesnake? Those little bastards are delicious . ”

Poacher’s powers involved being able to exhibit the abilities of any creature whose skin or fur he wore. Which meant that he ate a lot of weird things and had more than a few stories about animal attacks.

The novelty of the tales had long ago worn off for Oz.

Wyatt stood motionless for a long moment, watching the elevator doors. Something was obviously bothering the man. A lot. “Start evacuating the hospital.” He ordered as Lexington Gwinnet walked up behind him, dressed in her usual Revolutionary War patriot uniform.

Lexie looked confused. “Why?”

“Just please do it, Lexie.” Wyatt started towards the stairs. “Quick as you can.” He looked back at her. “Monty just left. And the rats don’t leave unless the ship is sinking.”

The woman nodded and immediately dashed to the nurse’s station to begin the process.

Oz continued down the hall, intending to go run a quick errand.

“The only man I mean to have words with tonight is Mercygiver, but I’ll fight anyone who stands between me and him.

” He stormed towards the elevators. “I’m going to go arrest him, so that when Miss Quentin wakes, I can share the good news with her. ”

“Yeeeeah… that’s not gonna happen.” Poacher dashed ahead of him, blocking his path.

“Oz, you and me ain’t really that close.

Truth be told, I don’t know jack-shit about you and don’t really care to learn.

I do, however, know a lot about that girl in there, so I hope you listen to me right now because I’m being completely serious with you: Mull is a stone-cold killer .

Killed more men than old age.” He shook his head.

“Someone beat the living shit outta her and then tossed her off a roof.” He pointed back into the room.

“And whoever did that to someone who could probably take me in a fight, is not someone you want to meet up with alone.” He shook his head again.

“Because if that motherfucker could do that to her , then– and I’m really sorry if this hurts your feelings, little buddy, but I don’t really care—you don’t stand a fucking chance.

” He crossed his arms over his chest. “ So, no. No, you’re not going after him alone.

Getting yourself killed won’t help her in any way.

So, we’re going to sit right here until she stabilizes or…

” He cleared his throat, because he couldn’t bring himself to say: “dies.” “…then you and me– and probably a couple other capable badasses– are going to look into this. I’ll track him down and then once we’ve beaten him to within an inch of his life and he’s no longer a threat, you can finish him off.

Okay? How’s that sound?” His tone was one of an adult promising their child an ice cream cone if they behaved themselves at the dentist.

“Stand. Aside.” Oz growled, his anger struggling to get free.

“I mean it, Sydney. You’ll never see me more serious than I am right now.

I’m going to go bring that man to justice, and then…

” He stopped, unable to go on. Recognizing for the first time that there really wasn’t a point if Miss Quentin died.

No point for rituals or justice or Oz himself. “…then…”

For a moment, Oz was a child again, huddling under the table. Feeling the dirty fast food wrappers and cold ketchup under his palms, mixing with the hot blood…

And there was nothing Oz could do. He was as helpless then as he was to save Natalie now.

He was useless. Useless trash.

He’d just make everything worse.

He sank to the floor and put his head in his hands, trying not to sob.

“I know.” Poacher sat down in one of the plastic chairs, his voice grim.

“Look, man. I ain’t gonna lie to ya. You got dealt a real shitty hand today.

And I’d like to say it’ll get better, but we both know that it probably won’t.

” He leaned closer to him. “But now is not the time to go losing your shit, Oz.” He told him seriously.

“When that time arrives, I’ll let you know.

But it isn’t now.” He met his eyes. “Hold together.”

Oz nodded weakly, swallowing the lump in his throat. “…Okay.”

“Good. Because you’re important. Important to her, important to the rest of ‘em.” Syd stopped to think the matter over.

“You’re lucky. I ain’t never been important to anyone.

That’s just not who I…” A song came over the hospital’s sound system which caused Poacher’s head to snap to attention.

He pointed at the ceiling. “Connie Francis?” He instantly brightened, like that meant something.

“Oh, shit! This is my jam, little buddy!” His head began to bob to the music.

“This is a sign, my man. Connie makes everything better, doesn’t she?

” There was an irritatingly cheerful buzzing sound and he reached down to his pocket.

“Excuse me for a sec, ‘kay?” Poacher answered his cell phone in direct violation of hospital policy. “Hey, what’s the…?” There was the sound of panicked shouting from the phone’s tiny speaker.

“Well, how much blood is there?” The man wondered calmly, then paused to listen to the answer.

“Hmm… Well, that’s no good then.” He began to tap his hand to the beat of his Connie Francis song and mouth along to the words while he listened to the person on the other end of the call.

“No, look in the cabinets for bleach.” Pause.

“No, bleach. Fabric softener won’t help. ”

Oz got back to his feet, trying to get ahold of himself again. His anger and hate were fading, replaced with a determination to be here for Miss Quentin, then deal with tracking down her attacker. And having an emotional breakdown.

Oz always tried to have careful control over himself .

He had slipped, but he was better now.

And no one had died.

“I can’t come right now.” Poacher told the person on the phone, but the caller didn’t seem to appreciate that news.

“‘Cause I’m watching the New Guy for Mull, that’s why.

” Poacher explained. “Look, just give me the address and you get out of there quietly, and I’ll call up Flannery and she’ll take care of it, okay?

” The person said something and Poacher scoffed in dismissal.

“Oh, that could’ve happened to anyone . Happens to me all the time. Don’t worry about it.”

Oz was about to ask him what that meant, but trailed off as he caught sight of a doctor walking down the hall. He raced over to her. “Has Miss Quentin’s condition improved at all?” He asked anxiously.

The doctor blinked at him in bafflement. “Improved?” She looked confused. “I’m a pathologist.”

Oz’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you here then?”

“…You called for me?”

“I called for The Mortician.” He corrected.

“We don’t have a mortician on staff.” She shook her head. “You’ll have to call one of the local funeral homes.”

“Not ‘a’ mortician, ‘ The’ Mortician!” He threw his arms out in exasperation. “As in ‘OUR’ Mortician! He was supposed to come in here and look at her!”

“You guys have your own mortician? Wow.” She picked up the paperwork and glanced at it. “Judging from your friend’s chart though, my guess is you supply him with a lot of work.” She flipped over one of the papers. “ Jesus … This looks like the sheet of a DOA, not someone who...”

“She’s not going to die.” Oz told the woman, trying to keep his temper under control.

The pathologist put the chart down. “I think you need to prepare yourselves for this.” She advised. “Call her family so that they can come say goodbye, because she doesn’t have long.”

“We’re here already.” Poacher corrected.

Oz nodded. “And we’re not saying goodbye.”