darker_london | Regina (Peter, Paul, Lorelei) (Reply)

"He asked me if I would die for her. Peter. I don't want Tasha with me..."

Peter hadn't been able to argue with that. He didn't want Tasha there either. And he didn't want Paul to be alone. Paul was his friend and he rather didn't feel like losing another one of those. Peter himself couldn't die. It was for that reason that he went with Paul while Paul frantically rattled off the details of his short conversation with the person who had abducted Lorelei.

"Salve Regina? He said Salve Regina?" Peter was driving, and he didn't glanced at Paul, though he waited for Paul to elaborate.

"Yes. And then something about...hops, and...beer. She's at a brewery, but that could be anywhere!"

"No." Peter sighed and he immediately pulled the car over so he could turn around.

"What are you doing!?" Paul's voice was high-pitched and tinged with panic.

"The brewery we should be at is this way. Salve Regina. It means...well it's colloquial for a greeting. Like...be in good health. Queen. Regina means Queen."

"So?" Paul glanced at the night lights of London, which they were passing by again in the opposite direction.

"Queen Brew. It's...quite expensive. The alcohol content is higher. It's like...I don't know, elite beer. It's not common. But I...I used to drink it. Beer for the upper class. If it can get away with being called 'Queen Brew' without going down in flames for being homosexual beer or some such nonsense..."

Paul just watched Peter, wondering how the hell he knew shit like this. "You know...you are never not interesting."

"That's not true," Peter said, speeding up. "I'm often not interesting. But hardly anyone seems to notice." Peter pulled off into an alleyway and he started driving even more quickly.

"Please tell me we're close?" Paul checked his watch. They had about forty-five minutes left...

"We're close," Peter said through gritted teeth, because it wasn't true. They had a ways to go yet. Which was why he was speeding. "You just try to think of anything else he might have said that can help us."

"He said..." Paul groaned and he hid his face in his hands. Trying to recall the conversation through his panic was not easy. "He said...he said she wasn't in the ground. She was in another element."

"Jesus fuck." Peter turned the car again and he sped down an open roadway which seemed to be quite deserted. And that was for the best too, considering how quickly they were going. Sure, they had a siren, but neither of them had put it on. They weren't going to be arrested, but they just might crash into someone...

"What...Peter, what?"

"Water." And that was all Peter said about that. They were silent as Peter sped along, Paul glancing at his watch and Peter focusing on the road.

They were nearing the brewery, which was in a quiet and secluded commercial part of town. It was a small business and the people there worked normal hours. No one was around except one security guard and he was asleep. How this situation had gotten this way becoming apparent with that truth unveiled.

Peter and Paul woke the rotund man up and Paul showed his badge. The guard agreed to show them around the place though he was sure that it was empty. "Just...take us to the distillery," Peter said, his voice grim. "That's where we need to go." He avoided Paul's gaze. He knew the man was going to look terrified, he didn't need proof. "And we should probably run."

Run they did. The distillery was even more empty than the rest of the brewery. The guard flicked a switch, illuminating the large room. There were vats everywhere, though most of them looked...and smelled...like they held alcohol. "Do any of them hold water?"

The guard shrugged. "I think the empty ones do. I mean...the ones without beer. The water keeps 'em clean."

Peter saw Paul glanced nervously at his watch again, but he knew what time it was. They had about five minutes left. They needed to hurry. "Can you open the vats?" Peter asked the guard."

"Only the ones which aren't currently in use. The others are on a timer. Can't let oxygen in.."

"We don't need...yes, open the others. Quickly!"

The guard waddled off and Peter stood beside his friend, holding tight to Paul's arm. "It's alright, Paul. It's going to be alright."

Paul said nothing, and a minute later three vats opened to the light, bringing with it the frantic screaming of a young girl. "HELP!"

"Lorelei!" Paul scrambled down from the balcony and he rushed towards the vat the screaming was coming from.

"Wait! Paul, let me!" Peter moved Paul aside and then he climbed up the vat on the small ladder, until he could peer over the edge. There, a disheveling and terrified-looking Lorelei was looking up at him.

"Peter! Help the get the fuck out of here!!"

Peter nodded, glancing at the water-level. It wasn't high enough for her to be able to float and reach out to him. She was too short. "Paul, we need you up here!" And then, without a second thought, Peter jumped into the vat. He hated water, and he hated enclosed spaces, but they had very little time left. He surfaced and he wrapped his arms around the thin girl, boosting her up. "Here...here you go, Lorelei. Paul will be there in a second. He'll be there."

"Paul!" Lorelei looked up at him when he appeared over the edge and she reached her hands out to him. "Paul, thank fuck!"

"Lorelei. Just hang on!" Paul tried to lift Lorelei out, but it wasn't easy. He was standing only on a ladder meant for one person. He struggled with her, and after a few moments of grunting and a terrifying second where he thought they were both going to fall, he lifted her out of the vat. "Okay....Peter, I have to help her down."

"Yes, yes, go go!" Peter started jittering, wishing Paul would hurry. He was tall enough to reach Paul's hands, but without them he was screwed in here...

Paul found his way to the bottom of the ladder where Lorelei sunk to the ground in a miserable, wet heap. "I'll be right back, Lorelei, I promise." Quickly, Paul ascended the ladder again. When he was halfway there, a strange mechanical whirring sounded above him. "Shit!" Paul started climbing faster.

The vats that aren't used are on a timer.... "SWEET MOTHER OF FUCK GET ME OUT!" Peter screamed to Paul. Frantically, he tried to climb the side of the vat, which only saw him falling back into the water with a mighty splash. The world faded momentarily as the water blocked sounds and light, but Peter surfaced again. Paul appeared over the side, but the lid was closing. Closing. Closing. Peter jumped for Paul's hand, but if he stayed there like that he was going to be crushed. "Paul! Get Deirdre! Get Deirdre!" He let go of Paul's hand which Paul pulled back just in time, and the flat lid closed with a crash.

Peter let out a soft whimper and he wrapped his arms around himself. A loud whirring sound reached his ears and without warning the water he was standing in rushed out of the vat so quickly, Peter fell down with the torrent of it. He picked himself up again, dripping and shaking. Oh this was bad. This was very bad...

It started slowly. The amber liquid seeped in through a tube, pooling around his feet. Peter stared down at it as the level of it started to rise. "Oh fucking hell..." He couldn't hear a thing from the outside. Didn't know what was happening with Lorelei or Paul...all he knew was that the level was rising, climbing steadily up his legs. There was a small shaft of light from the tiny viewing window in the lid, and from that he could see his doom around his shins and then his knees. It rose steadily, not so fast that it would disturb the delicate balance of the liquid, but fast enough that it would kill Peter in about ten minutes.

"Fuck fuck fuck. Oh fuck fuck fuck..." The liquid was at his waist now. At his chest. At his chin. He was going to drown in undistilled beer. Oh, what a fitting end for an alcoholic... The level rose and Peter could no longer touch the bottom of the vat unless he was under the level of the liquid. The atmosphere burned his eyes and the smell was enough to make him faint.

Maybe that would be better...

But he didn't faint. He floated up to the lid, which he frantically pushed against. It was pointless and all it managed to do was to push him under the level of the hops. Don't give up. Don't let go...

Peter was frantic then, trying to keep breathing for as long as he could. Trying not to whimper to release much needed air. There were six inches of space between the liquid and the lid. Then five. Then four. Three. Two. One. Desperately, Peter breathed in, frantically hogging the oxygen. Desperately fighting against an end he knew was inevitable. With his face pressed against the lid of the vat, he gulped in one last breath of precious air, and then the level of amber liquid met the lid and the pumps stopped pumping it it.

Peter couldn't see. He couldn't hear anything except the sound of his own heartbeat, heavy in his ears. He couldn't breathe. He hadn't seen where the beer was pumped in, but maybe if he could find that, he would find oxygen. It was a long shot, but his lungs were already expressing their displeasure with not being given oxygen. Peter swam through the liquid, searching the rim for the tube. His lungs burned and he searched and searched. He whimpered then, not meaning to, and precious bubbles of air escaped his body. His search revealed nothing.

Peter's lungs felt like they were being ripped open as he started to bang frantically against the walls of the vat. He was fighting a losing battle. His consciousness was draining away. He let out what was supposed to be another cry, but no more bubbles emerged from his mouth. His body twitched as his mind shit off and his lungs tried to take matters in to their own hands. Peter's mouth opened again and liquid spilled in, effectively damaging his lungs beyond repair and cutting off his life. Again.