Ace Up The Sleeve

He didn’t flinch as the walls shook around him. The shaking of the ground and the thunderous booms reaching down into the earth did not cause a stir. Santos stared at the floor with blank eyes. His back rested against the cushion that held him up in the chair. Even in clean clothes, he looked disheveled. The disease ate at his body, giving him the appearance of a walking skeleton.

As the attack sounds faded until another round was volleyed, footsteps echoed in the stone corridor. Only the slight rise and fall of Santos’ chest showed that he still lived.

Callie took a deep breath and stepped into the room. He had aged so much since the last time she saw him. The poison was acting fast in his frail body.

She held her own hand up as she paused a few feet inside. Looking down at her own flesh, she pondered on the poison’s interaction with her own body. It was all part of the plan, just not Santos’.