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"Can you manage by yourself for half an hour old man?"
Zandik turns another page in his book, laughing dryly at your question. "I do prefer around the clock care my dear," he quips, "but I suppose half an hour is doable."
You hurry over, nearly tripping over the cane that rests against his desk, and peck his sunken cheek fondly before moving towards the door.
"So energetic.. Don't I get a proper kiss?"
You've already got his coat half on when you answer. "Takes too long. Wouldn't want to be back even a second later than graciously allowed."
The poor bakery worker had nearly fainted when you'd entered the shop, but the ornate Fatui emblem adorning Zandik's coat had the other customers pulling away and letting you skip the queue. You'd taken care not to slip on the ice-coated streets on your way back, carefully balancing the two boxes and one bag of pastries in your arms.
Maybe you'd gotten a little carried away picking out so many treats, but after learning that Zandik rarely ever celebrated his birthday... Well, you wanted to make sure his 85th was one to remember!
While he normally scolded you for bringing food or drink into the laboratory, you figured today could be an exception and pushed open the door with your hip.
"Zandik I-"
Something was wrong.
There was something in the air that tasted off.
A lump forms in your throat with no explanation.
Why were the segments all here?
A few of them had already turned towards you, their eerie red eyes sending a shiver down your spine.
The youngest one looked uncomfortable. Far more than the norm. Another one had a hand wrapped tightly around his little wrist.
You take a small step forward when something hoarse reach your ear.
The voice was so faint it could've easily been drowned out by your pulse hammering.
'please'
One of the older segments clicks his tongue and step aside.
"Sentimental fool."
Your breath caught in your throat and you were moving before you could realize it. The dull thud of bagged pastries hitting the ground sounded far away.
Zandik was on the ground, his stupid monocle cracked, a trickle of blood spilling from his mouth.
It all seems so far away.
You're on your knees beside him within a heartbeat.
His lips are moving but you can't hear. Can barely even see the worry on his face through your tears. His fingertips are cold where they shakily brush along your cheek.
"Zandik? Zandik what's wrong?"
You want to reach for his hand, to kiss every scar and wrinkle like you've done so many times before. But before you can act, a heavy hand settles on your shoulder and pulls you away.
The segments push you aside, letting you roll along the stone floor.
Your throat burns as you scream at them. "Help him! Do something!"
One of them laughs. Soft, under its artificial breath.
Another steps in front of you, obscuring your view. "We are. Stay out of this."
Behind him you see Zandik's shaky hand reaching towards you and you shake your head. "No, no you're not helping him! You're just looking."
You try to crawl past the segment only for a foot to hit you square in the abdomen. The pain barely registers as you cough your lungs out.
Zandik groans. Something like your name dances in his sounds of agony.
You want to throw up as you stagger to your feet.
Three steps later and you're pulled against the firm chest of another segment, its long beaklike mask resting on your shoulder.
"Easy now," he coos, "don't stress yourself unnecessarily."
You can barely breathe through sobs, chest heaving and eyes burning as you fight your captor's superior strength. Through the blur of tears you see Omega reach down and the air shifts. Only your cries fill the air.
"You can't do this! Bring him back- bring him back!!" You try to kick at one of the younger segments. It looks at you with pity and something close to disdain. "Bring him back! I demand it!"
This catches their attention, a few of them chuckling.
You keep screaming while they lift Zandik's body onto a cold metal table, the reality of what they're about to do sinking in. Zandik's face is set in a faint smile, the kind that was reserved for you only. They don't deserve to touch him. You scream it at them, but there's no reaction.
Had his last moment been spent looking at you?
The laboratory fills with familiar sounds, metallic clinks of tools being laid out, gloves snapping into place. You don't realize it before then, but you've stopped fighting and in turn the segment has loosened its hold.
Your throat burns when you try to speak. "You can't... do this.."
Omega laughs, scalpel glistening as he twirls it between his fingers. His pointy mask scratches down the side of your nose, dangerously close to your eye.
"Out of respect for the old man, we're willing to forgive your insolence today if you keep being a useful assistant. You've got many more good years in you, a pity to waste that on a decrepit old man."
Your face twists in disgust. "I worked for him."
"We are him, dear," one of them quips.
You want to snap, tears still fresh on your cheeks, but Omega presses the sharp blade against your throat. "Careful now. Unless you want to join him?"
The force with which you bite down on your bottom lip felt like enough to draw blood. Zandik wouldn't have wanted you to die with him, he'd told you often that you were too good for this life. Too good for him.
You'd never believed it. But now you saw how much he'd changed since before you knew him.