[Disclaimer: Light sexual content at the end of the chapter. It is nothing too explicit, but I prefer leaving this disclaimer for anyone who might be uncomfortable with this type of content. I would also like to point out that I just now realized I had somehow mixed up two characters' names (James and Adams) at some point in the story. Most of it should be fixed now. I apologize for the confusion this might have caused. Thank you!]
*****
"Why?"
"Calm down."
"... Calm down?"
"Rouge. Pleas-"
"Calm down? You don't get to tell me that."
"I understand how you feel."
"Oh really?"
"Yes, really."
"Well, what I don't understand is why you keep lying to me after what I did. I told you everything. I risked everything by showing you this shit. And this is what it gets me?"
"I know. But I'm not lying. I just can't tell you."
"You can. You just don't want to."
"Look, Rouge. It's better this way."
"That's so fucking condescending. Even if you don't mean it to be."
"It's… It's more complicated than you think."
"It's really not. How little do you think of me? No, that's not it, is it? How highly do you think of yourself?"
"Wow. Really?"
"Well, you're basically telling me I can't handle what you know. You think I can't handle the truth. Shouldn't I know that for myself?"
"I never said that."
"Barely."
"Rouge."
"What?"
"Listen to me."
"I a-
"And I mean really listen to me."
"..."
"Yes. I am trying to protect you. Yes, I am purposely not telling you everything. Not because I think I'm smarter. Not because I think you can't handle it. But because you shouldn't have to handle it. Now that I know what I know, I would never want you to have to deal with it. I know that if you were in my position, you would do the same. To know what I know, I made that choice for myself."
"Then let me make that choice for my-"
"And I regret it."
"..."
"I know you risked a lot by telling me your secret. That was bold. Risky. Stupid."
"I-"
"But brave. Really brave. And I'll always respect you for it. And I won't make you regret reaching out to me. More than that. I'll just say it. I need your help, Rouge. I really do. And you're the only one who can help me with what I need to do. You know that. But I need you to trust me. Fully trust me. I'm not going to pretend that's an easy task. I can't even imagine how scary it is, knowing how fucked the situation is, and just going in blind. But I know you can do it. Am I wrong on that?"
"Of course not."
"Good."
"... I'm sorry."
"Come on, we should focus on what we have to do."
"Yeah."
"Once we start with this, we won't have much time. Doc will find out sooner or later and-"
Steps. Outside. Whose, there was no way to tell. They were going to welcome anyone the same way every time, however. Blades in hand.
Knocks: febril, polite. The two women hid behind counters and drawers, watching the entrance. Whoever the intruder was, they knew no one would answer them, giving away their position inside. They pushed the door.
There was always a small chance it was Doc. Or his men. It could be him. It would be him. Sooner or later, it would. And it felt as though the longer it took for him to show up through that door, the more likely the chances were.
Barely any light peeked through the opening. A foot pierced the darkness.
"Fucking hell."
Wig's silhouette carved the faint light in the door frame. Venom could recognize her figure quite easily. The massive locks of hair were also a good giveaway.
"I'm sorry, I-"
"It's ok. It's all good. What is it?"
"I brought new samples."
Wig glared at the open cemetery.
"…"
"How big is it?"
Venom inquired.
"About that…"
*****
"I never saw anything like this before."
"Yeah, me either."
The group stared at the tiny vial containing the minuscule sample Wig brought back from her mission.
"How'd you kill it?"
Rouge was curious, and unbothered by her unfamiliarity with the Necromancer.
"Well, now I'm scared we didn't."
The small amalgam of cells was fluctuating. It was alive. Somehow. In some way.
"This had stuck to my hair when we fought it. The rest seemed to have burned. Hopefully."
"This is a great find, Wig. Great job."
Venom smiled through her fatigued eyes.
"Thanks."
The Commander needed that acknowledgement more than she thought.
"No. Thank you. We'll be busy with this guy for a bit."
"What do you plan to do?"
The Rookie was impatient to start.
"To be honest, I don't even know. There's so much I need to test out first."
"Right, well, I should go."
It wasn't her place to be. And she didn't want it to be anyway. The less I know, the better, Wig thought.
"Sure. Thanks again. Really."
"Oh, it's nothing."
"It's not nothing. It's dangerous out there. I get to hide away here and-"
"I'm sure it's pretty dangerous here too."
"In its own way, yeah. If we're being reckless."
The Mad Scientist could feel her pupil's stare, stabbing her back.
"See ya."
*****
What the fuck is this?
"Aarrgh!- Fuck shit fuck!"
"Welcome, welcome! Partner."
There was no other place James wanted to be less than here. Yet he knew he had to.
"Holy fuck- Mrghg- Aarrrgh!"
"What can I serve you?"
"Nothi-"
"Ooooh! Who do we have here?"
"Frost, just leave 'em."
"Ain't no way. Even his lap dog's turned against him."
James could not focus on a single thing. Insanity. Everywhere. Which ironically turned into a symbiotic normalcy. Mob invited him for a meeting. He didn't expect to find this rugged debauchery, as he called it.
People. A lot of them. This was another thing. He expected a one-on-one with the man, or with a few of his most trusted associates. Not this. Or maybe these dozens of drunken soldiers were all his most trusted associates. Which would be quite troublesome.
And the people themselves. Some seasoned soldiers, scarred by plentiful skirmishes, and poisoned by too many unknown substances. The Dons. All of them. Even if there were only three of them, it was a rare sight for Doc's man. Commanders rarely all find themselves together. But it was expected of Mob's Family. He would have to get used to it.
Rookies. Doc's favourite cohort. Some of them at least. Nuke and Kage. Strange, he thought. After hearing of a recent clash between them and Frostbite. He won't tell Doc they turned on him. Obviously. Looks like they will be on the same team from now on.
Doc probably knows already anyway. And about me too.
"FFFFFUUCCKKK!"
"Won't you shut up, bitch!"
And there was him. Lunchbox. Held down on the bar's counter by a few soldiers. An old man under a large coat hovering next to him.
"Oh, I see you are curious about what is transpiring here, aren't you, James? Come, witness the extent of my resourcefulness."
Mob invited him forward, pointing his cane. Morbid curiosity pushed him forward. It was certainly not the screams of agony, or the flooding blood, or the ferocious gore, that drew him in.
"Spanner. Mind a spectator?"
The old man barely broke through his preparations to look behind him, briefly.
"Suit yourself."
The mysterious man was wiping off blood and flesh from his cleaver, its rusty teeth having recently fed on the young man's previously ripped-off leg, evening out the cut. The barman emptied a few money's worth of alcohol on the wounded limb before, in the same movement, pouring some into a customer's glass. As if used to the manoeuvre.
"Hmpgfhmmhmm--!!!"
Another patron had enough of the screaming and nonchalantly shoved a dirty rag down Lunchbox's jaw while maintaining his incomprehensible drunk conversation with his peers.
"... What exactly is happening here?"
James was almost afraid not to ask. As if they were all waiting to brag about this freakish tour de force.
"Wouldn't you want to know, Golden Boy?"
"Pardon?"
"Doc's fuck toy."
"... Huh?"
James was not the type to lose his temper easily. His senses were overstimulated, however, and the statement was truly baffling.
"I know who you are, son. Here to spy on me for your master?"
"Now, now, Spanner. This is an esteemed member of my council."
Mob can be quite the middleman.
"Right. No matter."
Spanner growled through his metallic denture. His glassy eyes flew onto an old case at his feet. As he reached for it. His body creased. Not in the old-bones-and-tired-articulation type of way. In the not-greased-enough-metal way. Things probed and poked against his jacket in ways a normal body should not have. He nonetheless placed the case on the counter, next to the convulsing body.
He pulled a tainted sack, which seemed quite heavy from the slight struggle it took the old man to manipulate it. The worn-out layer of fabric couldn't even hope to muffle the loud thud the contents of the bag made against the blood-tainted bar. The old man's gloved hand reached into it and pulled out a metallic contraption.
"Hold him down."
"The fuck you think we've been doing this whole time?"
"Not holding him down. He's wiggling. I need no wiggling."
After some aggressive grunts, the men doubled their effort to keep Lunchbox from moving.
"Why the hell can't we just knock the shit out of him?"
"No."
His voice spoke the words without any reason. They didn't need to know of it to listen.
"It won't be quick. And it will hurt. Bad."
The taste for petty lies withers with age. All lies, for that matter.
Everybody involved will soon discover that this iron rig is, in fact, an alloy appendage. While appearing rather rudimentary in its design, its architecture is quite complex. A genius' work. A mad one, but a skilled one.
Effortlessly, the craftsman worked the buttons and levers on his own contraption until a sharp point came out of one end. A taunt too big and too sharp for human use. Yet that was its very purpose. It craved human flesh. And it waited for no one.
Nothing could have muted the scream that came out of the freshly amputated man as the acute probe pierced his severed flesh and dug into his bare bone marrow. The horrid pain was unbearable.
"Oh for fucks sake, Spanner! My bar!"
Lunchbox's body had no resources to waste in this instant to hold its bladder tight.
"The blood, I can do with. But the piss, man! You know I can't with the piss!"
The barman was looking at the pitiful state his counter was in. It had seen worse, somehow. Way worse.
The old man ignored his plea, focused on his craft. He would rather do without the screaming and the crying. And the pissing too. But subjects need to be conscious. Fully. The brain and the mind both had to accept the grafting.
No exception. If they weren't cooperating, he would make them. Until they accepted his offering.
Multiple thin metal rods sprang from the steaming machine and sunk into the tender, sore flesh of the man's thigh, securing its grip. Manually, Spanner fiddled with some tubes and conductors, following through with the surgery.
In the creased corner of his eye, he noticed the young man's light slowly leave his gaze. The crude doctor forcefully gripped the swollen thigh and squeezed it hard, calling on the depths of pain to keep his patient awake. Which it did.
After a few more endless minutes, he spoke the words.
"It is done."
These were not an idiom for an enchantment that would magically remove the ache. But it was a step forward toward salvation for Lunchbox.
Their volunteer work terminated; they quickly let go of the human experiment, leaving him to bathe in his pain. And his blood. And Tears. And piss.
His teammates did not know what to do in this precise situation, other than awkwardly offer their presence next to him.
The old man paid no attention to all of it. His job was finished.
"Who are you?"
James just had to know.
"Nobody. Not anymore."
"My, I cannot let such a valuable asset of mine undersell himself in front of such a profitable collaborator."
"What did you do?"
It's as if the Father wasn't even there.
"My job."
"Which was?"
"To fix him. And I fixed him."
"Why?"
"Because I was paid."
"Paid what?"
"That is not of your concern, Golden Boy."
The Commander tapped his cane twice on the ground. Even under the chaotic ruckus, its regal connotation could still be felt; a member of the Foundation was summoned.
The young woman brought a bag up to the doctor and pressed it against his chest before walking away. The man's gloved fingers played with the opening of the pouch, a slight grin stretching across his face as the slit of the fabric widened.
"Good."
"Good indeed. Until next time, old friend."
"Don't rush."
Just like that, he disappeared into the crowd.
"We will get that cleaned up; do not worry, James."
The large Lieutenant waved his cane vaguely.
"I am not worried about that. Why did you call me here?"
"Oh, James. This is your welcome party."
"This? This shit show?"
"Oh, Jame-"
"Stop right now. I'm not going to put up with your bullshit."
"Ah, your generation loves crude vocabulary."
"Oh, for fucks sake, just cut the crap!"
"I need you to meet with Doc's weapons master."
"The smith? Forge?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I need to assess which side he's on."
"Well, he works for him, so."
"So do you."
"..."
"My intel tells me he might be compelled to join us. You will convince him to; that is your mission."
"Sure. But why?"
"Furnish us with arms."
"We can already do that. I mean, we just have to ask Doc to-"
"Without Him knowing."
"..."
"If you need a weapon, only Forge can do it. Right, at least. And Forge only responds to Doc. He does not converse with anybody else. So if we need a weapon, take this girl's blades I just ordered, for example; I had to go through Doc."
"... Which now he knows you made it specifically for her, tying her to your coup."
"Correct. He will know. Everything, eventually. But we can slow him down. Throw him off. Hinder him. Make him improvise."
"Right. Sure. I'll see what I can do."
"Yes. And you will succeed."
"Yeah, well, that depends if h-"
"You will succeed, James. I do not trade in the business of failure."
James said nothing. He looked over the young soldier in the back. Lunchbox was slowly getting up, fighting through the agony, standing on his new iron leg.
*****
The warm lights showering down the ceiling only amplified the golden lust of her hair, the smooth edges of her skin. He could spend the rest of his life burning her image in the back of his mind, and he would never be content. Never had Jab felt this way before.
He wondered. Guilt and shame poisoned his reasoning. Was it because he was lonely that he loved her so? Would his rooted despair cling to the first act of kindness thrown his way? Had it been anybody else that night, would he have still thrown it all away the way he did with her?
No. It was because it was her. It wasn't the first time someone approached him. He had his share of encounters while he was drinking. But nothing ever happened. Not until she came along.
Ace was routinely pacing around the rooms, attending to herself the way she usually does, with only a shirt covering her. Nothing else. His gaze would not drop her. It could not. As if losing sight of her figure would mean losing her forever.
He was breathing heavily, a ball in his chest, resting shirtless on the large sofa which appeared small in the luxurious living room. It was overwhelming, this feeling; A passion so strong it bordered on frenzy. It would burst in him at the least expected times.
"Now that you seem to stay here every night, I'll have to make you pay rent, you know. This place ain't cheap."
Ace joked from the bathroom. She was half waiting for an answer, getting the shower working. He did not. He stood up and walked assertively. He stood in the spacious doorway for a moment. She looked at him from the corner of her eye.
"Hm?"
Words were beyond him at this point. He broke through the distance, keeping her away from him and kissed her. His hand reached for her cheek and then her neck, desperately trying to find a place where it would make it feel like she was his, even for just this instant. She responded lovingly to his embrace.
"Not the kind of payment I was looking for, but we can make something work."
It was not until he failed to respond to her again that she understood. She saw it in his eye. That's when she gave herself to him. She locked her arms around his neck as he pulled her from her hip with his firm grip. Their kiss intensified as his hand slipped through her oversized shirt and reached for every corner of her soft body, enjoying her under his touch.
Relentless, they were breathing into each other, their pulses accelerating. The shower was steaming, its humid warmth falling short of the heat of their passion brewing for one another. He effortlessly handled her up the vanity, her damp thighs sticking to the slick marble.
They looked at each other, as if frozen by their overwhelming fervour, not knowing how to savor eachother to the extent they wished for. Jab caressed her with his lips, from her mouth to her jaw to her neck. Ace instinctively dug the fingers of her left hand into his long hair as she braced herself with the other, feeling him enter the bottom of her shirt to reach her.
She moaned over the running water as she felt his intensity on the sensitivity she displayed to him. She pressed the back of her head against the immense mirror crossing the wall and crossed her legs around him, her heels digging through his strong back, as he tasted her.
She uncontrollably curled up her upper body into him when she was overcome with pleasure, now also feeling his fingers explore her. Jab straightened up and kissed her forehead fondly, but she wanted more. More of him. She pulled him to her mouth and abandoned herself to her desires.
She forcefully removed the shirt refreigning her to feel him fully, before working on his pants with her frantic hands. Now without any cloth barricading them, she took him into her hands. He was trying his best to put his lips on hers, but the moans she pulled out of him were keeping his mouth agape, panting into her mouth.
Ace wanted to know how much more she could get out of him, moving her mouth slowly down his chest, passing through his stomach, until she reached him. Like an echo of her, he couldn't help but move his hand through her soft hair as she exorted pleasure out of him. He squirted his eye and grunted at her restlessness.
Before long, they pulled each other into the spacious shower, the glassy confinement already fogged up, as though the water now covering them both was bringing them closer to one another.
Unconsciously, they both took command over the other in waves. When he wasn't pulling her into him, she was pinning him down.
It wasn't only lust she was feeling when he was pressing himself into her, but love. Likewise, she wasn't only craving him, but giving herself to him. They had no idea how deep into the night their frenzy had brought them, or if it was the warmth of the self-made sauna or their frenzy that made them lightheaded. They knew one thing was absolute, however. This affection.
He felt guilty, even more so in these moments, that he would doubt her. Not on purpose. He couldn't help it. He never felt worthy of love. At the slightest hint of it, he would flinch. Something too good to be true.
She couldn't love him. Not to the extent that he loved her. He was nothing. She was everything. He had no value. She was worth everything.
But that was selfish. And he knew it. Slowly, he was healing. She was healing him. Unknowingly and unconditionally. He asked her before. And he still wanted to, never satisfied with the answer. Why she loved him.
But not tonight. He accepted her feelings, just like he knew his were for real. He looked at her serene figure, snuggled into him. He felt tears swell up as the words approached his lips. He wouldn't question her. Not tonight. Instead, he would accept her.
"Thank you."
Is all he could say. But that was all he wanted to say.
"Hmm?"
She was feeling drowsy, depleted from their endeavour.
"Nothing."
"Sure."
"We should get in bed."
"But I'm comfy."
"'Cause you're lying on me. This fancy shower floor is not quite cozy."
"Carry me."
"You can't walk?"
"You're not that good. Yet."
He could but scoff in disbelief at the sharpness of her rebuttals. Still, he didn't mind. Both because she felt weightless to him, and because he didn't mind at all. He would do anything for her. She knew that. As he was now trying to accept that the same was true for her towards him.