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John's scream echoed in the room, chocked with agony as he watched the scene before him. He was beside Virgil in an instant, hands covering the blood soaked shirt; unable to find out where it was coming from, feeling the warmth of the blood. Eye's desperately searching for some way to stop it, to push it all back inside.

"Scott! Scott, please!" he begged, not knowing what he was begging for. For his brother to make everything alright again, for him to turn back time and stop all of this, for him to tell him everything would be alright. Anything. Everything. Nothing.

"Virgil, don't die. Please don't die." He pressed harder, using his own shirt, torn from him in a panic to staunch the blood flow. His heart sinking as Virgil's face just got more and more pale, and the blood continued to pool around him.

"Scott!" he almost screamed, needing Scott to answer him.

Scott stood just a few steps away, staring, unseeing, at the scene in front of him. "He's gone."

John bit back a screech of frustration. "He's not, he's not. Virgil please, don't die… please don't die…"

"The Hood…" Scott continued as if he hadn't spoken.

"Call an ambulance, get a doctor. DO SOMETHING SCOTT!"

Scott blinked and saw, for the first time his little brothers, and the blood, and was galvanised into action. Placing the call for an emergency airlift from the bunker immediately.

John knelt in the blood that was turning sticky, afraid to take his eyes from Virgil's face, wanting to cry every time he heard a ragged breath, or felt his brother's chest rise and fall.

"Please don't die." he whispered brokenly.

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