Metzger's office, surprised to see her alive. He bolted into that secret passageway, but ran right into an ECHO squad. They gunned him down and kept moving—left him for dead, but he clung to life.
Nightingale watched as Phellman pulled himself down so many flights of stairs, crawling on his belly and bleeding badly. He pulled himself all the way to floor 15, and then somehow managed to pull himself up to his feet. Using the wall to support most of his weight, he found his own laboratory.
He collapsed just inside, and dragged himself to the storage unit where he kept his most recent experiments. One weak, shaky arm lifted, and his quivering hand punched in a security code to unlock the heavy steel cabinet with a loud, hydraulic hiss. The shelf slid out and he reached inside, grabbing a handful of tall, narrow vials.
Somehow, Nightingale knew they were his nanobots—exactly like the ones Doctor Metzger had injected into her.
Phellman rolled onto his back and shattered the vials in his fist. The glass tore his flesh, but he could feel—and Nightingale could feel—what must have been millions of microscopic machines pouring into his open wounds and sealing them shut. They went into his wounds and healed them from the inside, starting with his hand. After that his bullet wounds began to heal, repairing the internal damage to his lungs and heart first, and then closing the bullet holes in his torso.
He gasped in a breath once his lungs were fully functional, and his heart began beating full force.
Too quickly.
He panted for breath and sprung to his feet, eyes suddenly wide and excited as if he had received a sudden burst of adrenaline as he looked all over. “No!” he shouted, and lifted his shirt. The bullet holes had healed, but flesh continued to grow. The nanobots didn't know when to stop, so they kept multiplying his cells—creating more and more flesh, continuously packing it on, creating large swells on Phellman's torso. “They work, I know it, I saw it! They healed her without these side effects, why not me!?”
His breathing became labored again when his lungs began to swell. He clutched his chest and bolted from the room, sprinting down the hallway, his mind racing with possible solutions. Supplements were at the top of his list, though, so he ran to the other end of the floor, and burst into the cybernetics laboratory. He was panicking and afraid of dying, and the emotions were transferred to Nightingale.
“Calm down, kid!” Jonny shouted, but Nightingale didn't seem to be listening. She had picked up that tube—it wasn't even five seconds ago—and almost immediately began bawling her eyes out.
“ I don't wanna die, I can't, I wanna live!” Nightingale shouted. “I need the synthetic lungs... The synthetic heart... Synthetic veins...”
“ What the hell's wrong with her!?” Jonny asked Michaela.
“ I do not know!” Michaela knelt beside Nightingale and looked her over quickly. “She appears unharmed!”
“ The nanobots will absorb them,” she continued to mutter. “They'll reject my damaged organs, and will assimilate the synthetics.”
“ Synthetics?” Jonny asked, and then reached down to grab the thin tube—a synthetic vein—from her hand. He tossed it across the room, and Nightingale immediately snapped out of it.
Her eyes shot open wide and she looked up at Jonny and Michaela. “It was Phellman!” she shouted.
“What was?” Jonny asked.
Michaela immediately pulled Nightingale into a hug, and stroked her hair. “It is alright, child. Your internal organs are unharmed, and I will make sure they stay that way.”
Nightingale calmed down considerably when Michaela hugged her, and she squeezed her tight in return. “That monster was Phellman. His nanobots turned him that way. They were supposed to heal him, but they turned him into a monster!” Nightingale pulled her head back suddenly, tears pouring down her face as she stared up at Michaela. “Doctor Metzger put
Nightingale watched as Phellman pulled himself down so many flights of stairs, crawling on his belly and bleeding badly. He pulled himself all the way to floor 15, and then somehow managed to pull himself up to his feet. Using the wall to support most of his weight, he found his own laboratory.
He collapsed just inside, and dragged himself to the storage unit where he kept his most recent experiments. One weak, shaky arm lifted, and his quivering hand punched in a security code to unlock the heavy steel cabinet with a loud, hydraulic hiss. The shelf slid out and he reached inside, grabbing a handful of tall, narrow vials.
Somehow, Nightingale knew they were his nanobots—exactly like the ones Doctor Metzger had injected into her.
Phellman rolled onto his back and shattered the vials in his fist. The glass tore his flesh, but he could feel—and Nightingale could feel—what must have been millions of microscopic machines pouring into his open wounds and sealing them shut. They went into his wounds and healed them from the inside, starting with his hand. After that his bullet wounds began to heal, repairing the internal damage to his lungs and heart first, and then closing the bullet holes in his torso.
He gasped in a breath once his lungs were fully functional, and his heart began beating full force.
Too quickly.
He panted for breath and sprung to his feet, eyes suddenly wide and excited as if he had received a sudden burst of adrenaline as he looked all over. “No!” he shouted, and lifted his shirt. The bullet holes had healed, but flesh continued to grow. The nanobots didn't know when to stop, so they kept multiplying his cells—creating more and more flesh, continuously packing it on, creating large swells on Phellman's torso. “They work, I know it, I saw it! They healed her without these side effects, why not me!?”
His breathing became labored again when his lungs began to swell. He clutched his chest and bolted from the room, sprinting down the hallway, his mind racing with possible solutions. Supplements were at the top of his list, though, so he ran to the other end of the floor, and burst into the cybernetics laboratory. He was panicking and afraid of dying, and the emotions were transferred to Nightingale.
“Calm down, kid!” Jonny shouted, but Nightingale didn't seem to be listening. She had picked up that tube—it wasn't even five seconds ago—and almost immediately began bawling her eyes out.
“ I don't wanna die, I can't, I wanna live!” Nightingale shouted. “I need the synthetic lungs... The synthetic heart... Synthetic veins...”
“ What the hell's wrong with her!?” Jonny asked Michaela.
“ I do not know!” Michaela knelt beside Nightingale and looked her over quickly. “She appears unharmed!”
“ The nanobots will absorb them,” she continued to mutter. “They'll reject my damaged organs, and will assimilate the synthetics.”
“ Synthetics?” Jonny asked, and then reached down to grab the thin tube—a synthetic vein—from her hand. He tossed it across the room, and Nightingale immediately snapped out of it.
Her eyes shot open wide and she looked up at Jonny and Michaela. “It was Phellman!” she shouted.
“What was?” Jonny asked.
Michaela immediately pulled Nightingale into a hug, and stroked her hair. “It is alright, child. Your internal organs are unharmed, and I will make sure they stay that way.”
Nightingale calmed down considerably when Michaela hugged her, and she squeezed her tight in return. “That monster was Phellman. His nanobots turned him that way. They were supposed to heal him, but they turned him into a monster!” Nightingale pulled her head back suddenly, tears pouring down her face as she stared up at Michaela. “Doctor Metzger put
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