Perhaps I should point out, as it will later come to some importance in our tale, that Bartleby was never one to be able to run far. Being the weak and surprisingly fragile person that he was on the interior, it’s hard to believe that he could run at all. Nevertheless, he did run. He ran from the infirmary to the main doors. Not a far distance, one could say, but to our Bartleby, it felt like two miles. On the way he heard a loud banging that had to have come from a gunshot. Panicking, he finally collapsed at the doors where a group of similarly clothed butlers and maids were already crowded. When they saw their Master fall to his knees, almost all simply stood and stared, victims of The Bystander Effect. I say almost all because Malware was instantly by his side, effortlessly lifting him up by the cuff of his shirt. “Master…” he muttered through clenched teeth as he helped him up, “I would recommend not going out there.” Bartleby didn’t even hear him, as he had already ripped from his grasp and stumbled out the door.

He was greeted to a small knot of people, many small-time framers and lesser merchants, huddled over a writhing dog. One was holding a pistol, while the others were shouting and clapping him on the back, evidently pleased with him. Bartleby stood stock still, for the dog kicking and screaming on the ground was Credit, the dog with the white muzzle.

“Oi, Chaarles, it’ em’ agin’, poot tha poor bloke outta it’s misery…” one of the men standing beside the man with the pistol said. The man with the pistol (who we will now call Charles) aimed at Credit and shot at him once more. Credit said nothing, not even cry of pain as he slumped over and died. Bartleby didn’t even hesitate. With a cry mixed of rage and pain he stumbled pathetically towards them, his energy long since died out. The men turned to look at him, some in surprise, others in amusement, and many in anger. Charles, being one who looked at him in resentment, quickly brought up the gun and fired at him, more out of reflex than thought.

Bartleby screamed and slumped to the ground, clutching at his bleeding leg, the blood flowing fast and freely. He heard a gruesome cracking when he reached the ground, more than likely his femur.

All of this had happened in less than thirty seconds, and everyone around Bartleby stood paralyzed. Their herd mentality set in, unless someone was to go forward, no one would. Malware, of course, was the one that came first. He shoved several people to the ground as he sprinted to his Master, bits of dirt and grass flying behind him.

Bartleby lay sprawled out on the ground, paralyzed to move or speak. He looked up at the man who had mercilessly killed his dog, his eyes still blazing with fury. “You… You bastard…” he choked out, the words felt almost solid in his throat. The man looked at him, still in shock over what he had done. He looked at his companions for support. “Ya all saw him…” his eyes were watering, whether out of guilt or fear we’ll never know. “Ya saw him charge me! He coold of killed me! Ya all saw it!” his companions, more out of fear than support, smiled nervously. “Ya, noow calm doon, ol’ hinny. Calm doon…” one of his companions grabbed his shoulder, speaking to him in a composed manner. Another one of his friends nodded and grinned, quite authentically I might add, and said, “Aye, mate, that bluidy queer woon’t urt’ ya anymoor…”

Bartleby winced in pain as Malware quickly plucked the bullet out of his flesh. His face was caked with his Master’s blood, and he quickly spat the projectile out into the grass. “Is that what this is about?” Bartleby’s voice only a shaking whisper now, “You killed my dog just because you think I’m… Are you stupid?” there was no rationality behind it. Then again, people who unnaturally hated others usually weren’t rational themselves. “Just because I won’t find a wife… Just because I never go outside… That automatically makes me homosexual?” he flinched when he heard Malware preparing to cast magic on him, to close the wound. His senses were becoming muddled, everything seemed to echo in his ears. His hand clenched at the ground, and he felt another hand, a rather bony one, wrap around it.

“Faith, can ya hear me, man?” Jergens. Bartleby forced himself to look up, only for his head to flop back to the ground. He could hear the conversation between Jergens and Malware. It didn’t seem promising.

“What do ya mean ya can’t heal the bone?!”

“Well… I can’t… I don’t have a spell for-…”

“Fuck your spells! He’ll die if ya don’t heal it!”

“Eventually, yes… but he might be able to heal in a few weeks if we’re lucky…”

“Is that supposed to make things better?! Fuck no! I thought you were a doctor…”

“He didn’t have much longer to begin with…”

It made him feel sick to have to hear his only two friends arguing. He could imagine it now… A deer from the forest and a homeless man screaming at each other as two groups of people watched on either side. It was so ludicrous; he would have laughed if he wasn’t in such pain. He could feel himself being lifted up by familiar arms, his chest pressing against Jergens’s. “I’m sorry Faith…” he mumbled. “This’ll hurt a little…” he picked him up fully, trying not to move his broken leg. It did of course, which caused rivers of new pain to seep into it. Bartleby whimpered a bit, ashamed at his own weakness. “Shhh… Hey Faith, ya wanna know something?” his voice… so reassuringly cheery and bright…

“I love ya.”

Bartleby had heard that from him so many times before, but with the way he said it this time… he knew that he meant it… Oh well, not like it could be helped. Bartleby lightly tapped his shoulder, his hand already there to begin with, and whispered those same three words in his ear.

There was a crowd of servants around them at this time, but Bartleby didn’t notice, or care.

It would be a mistake that would ultimately cost not only his life, but Jergens’s as well.
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Hey everyone! I got a great game for ya! See if you can count all the lame refernces I make to my last story (if you bothered to read it) Win and get a free piece of writing about any character! : D

Also, to Thaddgrey. I'm sorry that I haven't updated the backstory I'm doing for SideWinder. I've been having such awful writer's block with it and I want it to turn out nice. Just know that it's getting done bit by bit :3

Also ALSO, the next chapter will be the LAST chapter. Almost over, yay!