The helicopter ride had been tolerable. When you didn't need to stick to the roads, the airport was a mere half hour from the Raven Aegis' reclusive home. It had been a while since Isaiah had flown and the Heathrow they landed at was much different than he remembered. Not that it mattered. Badges were flashed by their suited escorts and they bypassed every security checkpoint. In fact, they were only inside the airport proper for a few minutes as they changed from the private heli-pad to the private runway. All records of Fletcher's past crimes had been wiped by A.M.R.O so Isaiah doubted there would have been any trouble had they traversed the airport normally but he certainly wouldn't complain about missing the lines.
Fletcher could barely contain his excitement on the plane. He stayed mostly confined to his seat but for the first few hours his eyes would dart about while his nimble fingers stroked an imaginary beard pensively. Fletcher's was the only mind Isaiah couldn't maintain a consistent read of. At the moment he figured his partner was contemplating different ways he could extract the life from his targets in the upcoming mission. All he knew was that he would not want to be the canvas on which Fletcher would paint his next macabre opus.
After a few hours, Fletcher apparently decided he had had enough time to think and drew from his bag the small zip-lock from earlier. The cocaine hit him savagely and while the first couple convulsions wracked his body, his mind escaped to a distant place. After the hit he remained quiet for the remainder of the plane ride. isaiah took a nap.
They received similar treatment at the airport in Las Vegas. They were swept through the terminals and deposited in a car that would take them to their destination. Halfway during the car ride, Fletcher began to flood back into the present, the effects of his high wearing off slowly. Fortunately he remained largely sedated until shortly after arriving on the strip. Isaiah wasn't sure if he snapped out of it naturally or it was the sharp, taunting bark ringing out that pulled him back to reality.
"Go to hell Asylums!"
"What the fuck d'he say?" Fletcher whispered placidly to his partner.
"Listen again, perhaps he'll repeat it,"
Fletcher licked his lips and closed his eyes, straining to hear the challenge.
"Go to hell you sons of whores!" the call emanated from a man who stood opposite a pair Isaiah thought looked familar.
"Ah, that's what he said," Fletcher nodded sternly in self-affirmation. He continued calmly but with a firm tone, as if deciding what to have for lunch, "I'll flay the bitch,"
Fletcher took off at a light jog. Isaiah let out a slight huff and followed suit, his legs pumping to keep up with his taller partner. They covered the 100 yards from the front of their hotel to where the challenger was quickly but when he saw them approaching he let out a different cry,
"Oh shit! Fletcher Miles!" With that he abandoned his aggressive attitude and attempted to flee the scene. He got maybe 25 yards before Fletcher, who had increased his pace to close the gap, got within range. He muttered a few choice words and hurled the spine his gauntlet had deposited in his palm. The alchemical magnetization he had created, combined with his inherent precision, resulted in the spine piercing the flesh behind the man's right ankle bones. It entered perpendicularly to the tight skin and sliced clean through the man's Achilles tendon. Now free from its binding, the tendon rolled up like a party horn devoid of air. The man shrieked in pain and fell to the the ground in a heap.
"Oh my, you look to be in a bad way my friend," Fletcher contorted his face to his best, and scarily accurate, impression of sympathy, "Let's see what ol' Fletch can do to help. I'm no doctor but I used to kick ass at operation. Just let me know if I hit anything important,"
He pulled one of his folding blades from the strap of his pack and unfolded it. Fletcher tested the edge with his thumb and then squatted down. The man was scrambling to get away.
"Nurse, be a dear and restrain the patient," with a quick flick the blade he sliced deep into the man's left hamstring, causing the muscle to spasm wildly.
The man cried out again and began swinging his arms wildly at Fletcher.
"Doctor, maybe we need to rethink the nurse's outfit. The patient can't keep his hands to himself," Isaiah stood by, his slightly averted eyes held no pity.
"You'll just have to make do nurse, we simply don't have the funds for brand new uniforms this year,"
"I suppose. Oh well, you don't graduate at the top of your class without being resourceful," As the man brought his hand up again to claw at Fletcher's face, he severed the hand with the blade. With one hand Fletcher pinned the remaining, intact arm to the ground and with the other he sliced cleanly through the wrist, leaving the man with two bloody stumps.
"Nurse, how does that bleeding look? We need to keep that under control, Hippocratic oath and all,"
"Yes sir," Fletcher muttered a few words. The air whooshed as his hands burst into flames. He grabbed the man's stumps, cauterizing the wounds. Isaiah looked on as distaste crossed Fletcher's face. The screaming apparently had grown annoying. He planted his right hand over the man's mouth and seared it shut.
"There you are doctor, I think the anesthesia is kicking in. We shouldn't hear a peep out of him until the surgery is done,"
"Very good nurse, let's begin," Fletcher loomed over the man and peered into his eyes. The tears that streamed freely from them caused him to nod his head curtly and issue a quick salute. "Your nose won't be lighting up for me, so let me know if it hurts," Fletcher grinned and began to work.
When he was finished, he stood up. Covered in blood, he turned to his partner,
"Isaiah, have you said hi to our two friends here? It was kind of rude of you to ignore them, don't you think?" With that, Fletcher turned and waved jovially at the Gemellie.
"Forgive us, I'm Isaiah and this is Fletcher."