Freddie is pulling desperately at the machine. Marcus is barely conscious as the needle is slowly making its way through his skull. Freddie is crying with effort, straining with all the might he can muster from his scrawny frame. Blood if spilling freely now from his wounded stomach. He lets go of an anguished scream.
The machine gives.
Freddie rips the needle from his dad’s and tosses it away. With a final struggle, he heaves his father from the slab and onto the floor, before collapsing against a wall.
Marcus is starting to come round already, the wound on his head quickly knitting back together. His eyes focus on his son.
MARCUS
Freddie?
Marcus pulls himself over to his son. Strength us already returning to his limbs and his movements quicken.
MARCUS
Freddie!
Freddie is already gone. Blood has soaked through his costume and pooled around his legs. His head lols side to side, his gaze unfocussed. Freddie’s head sinks into his chest. He becomes still.
Marcus gets to his feet and stands over his dead son, blood on his hands. Behind him, the blast doors slide open.