Author's Note: This update has been a couple of years (or so...) in coming, but hey I'm keen to get this marked as 'complete' at last so except another update shortly. There will be one final chapter after this one. I think. Oh, maybe two. *sigh*
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CONTROL
by Sorrow
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"Are my friends alive?" Max whispered the question, breaking a long stretch of silence that had long ago surpassed the awkward stage.
For a long minute White remained silent, and she wondered if he'd failed to catch her words. Then she saw a movement from his corner of the room as he brought himself out of his reverie.
"Is my son?" The question fractured the air like a punch, and Max winced as she realised she should have seen that one coming. With a roll of her eyes she gritted her teeth. She was so sick of playing the Ray Game, and what did it matter now anyway to give a father some piece of mind?
"Yes."
From his dark corner, White took a deep breath and held it in, as if to savour the answer he'd sought for so long.
"Thank you."
The measure of relief imbedded in his voice surprised Max, and she turned sharply away. She waited for an answer to her own question, but the room descended into silence once more.
Should've figured on that one.
"Wise ass son of a bitch." Mole spat towards a corner of the cell as the door slammed shut and footsteps faded from hearing.
"You think he means it?"
"What, that they'll skewer me and serve me as barbequed lizard at their next banquet? Nah, just a bluff."
"No, I mean about – "
"Yeah I know where you're at." But Mole didn't have an answer to Joshua's question. Instead he looked to where their companion lay, still unconscious. Not good. When they were captured, he took the worst of the beating. Maybe it was a personal grudge White held against him in particular. Who knew? All Mole knew was that if they couldn't get their third musketeer to wake the hell up and continue the plan, this would be the worst rescue mission in history.
When White sauntered into her cell three days earlier, to gloat about the capture of the transgenics who'd tried to stage her rescue, Max had turned to Matthias with a last ditch bargain using the only tool she had left. A deal was made, and the Elder gave his word to let one of the captives go as a sign of good will; promising the release of the others, once her end of the bargain had been completed.
In hindsight, she wondered if the Elder had kept his side of the bargain at all. She'd learnt a lot about the breeding cult in the weeks since she'd become their captive. In particular; with all their pomp and emphasis on traditions and values, honour was not one of their strong points. Nor was loyalty, so it turned out.
Max daydreamt of where she would be now if she hadn't stepped off the ladder and into that room. She wondered if White was wrestling with his own regrets. Or plans for revenge.
He could kill her now, before the Conclave lay her on their sacrificial alter – or whatever they called it. There was nothing left for him to lose if he decided to outwit his cult buddies and extract his own revenge.
Well, there was one thing.
One card she could still deal. Not that it would do her any good now anyway.
"I can take you to your son." The words croaked from parched lips and she cursed herself for the lack of conviction in her voice.
Across the room, White sniggered in the darkness. "And how will you do that, 452? If you haven't noticed, you're a prisoner." Softer, deadlier now, he added, "As am I. No thanks to you. So your little carrot isn't going to bait me. Whether I like it or not."
"Can't blame a girl for trying." Max shrugged, and a moment later a fast footfall landed beside her, as hands gripped her shoulders and hauled her to her feet.
White stood before her, pushing her roughly against the brick wall as he leant in inches from her face, his voice low and dangerous. "Don't think to trivialise how important my son is to me, transgenic scum."
His breath was warm and soft against her skin and she shivered despite herself. Not out of cold, certainly not out of fear, but because a part of her had anticipated this reaction from him – the same strange part of her that craved it. Had weeks of isolation driven her to this? To bait her enemy into touching her just to remind herself she was still alive? To kick enough adrenalin into her blood to keep her heart pounding?
"Is this you trying to be romantic? Cause I gotta tell ya it's not working." She whispered the words against the Familiar's throat, as she pretended the darkness could cloak them in some kind of anonymity; pretend they were somewhere else. Someone else.
White flashed an arrogant smile as he released his grip upon her arms and slipped his hands to her hips, roughly tugging her to him. "Think you're lying, 452."
He was unsure of what game the transgenic was playing this time, but he refused to fall victim to it. Catching her lips roughly with his own and smirking to himself as her arms slid around his neck in response, he decided this time he was going to be in control.
Until he faced the Phalanx during the Jam Pony stand off, Joshua had never fully exerted his strength. And since that evening when he held White's prone body across his knee and threatened to snap him like a twig, he had kept his strength in reserve. It took no small measure of his inner strength to keep himself in check when they were captured. Even more strength to hold back as Alec was beaten to a bloodied pulp.
He knew the plan, but a part of him couldn't understand it. Why go through the rigmarole of allowing themselves to be captured? He could care less if they managed to ferret out of the heart of the Familiar race and destroy its backbone. The only thing in the world that was important to him, was locating Max, and killing White. In that order, if possible.
The still form beside him uttered a low groan, and Mole was at his side, prodding him, "Take your sweet time Princess. No worries, we've got all day." Mole's voice was gruff, but tight with concern. Not that he'd ever admit it.
"I'm-okay-I'm-okay." Slurred the recipient of his sarcasm, and a hand raised to push away Joshua who was trying to 'help' his friend assume a more vertical position.
"How long?" The X5 asked as he sat, wincing, and touching a hand cautiously to his head.
"Three, four days?"
Joshua added, "Nearly started to worry about you, Medium Fella."
Alec swore and, still holding his head, clambered to his feet with all the cat-like grace of an injured bear. "Had it under control." He shrugged with all the nonchalance he could fake. "Four days huh? Long enough for them to think I'm out of the game."
"Good to go then?" Mole clapped a hand across Alec's back. Camaraderie. The X5 staggered forward and shot his comrade a half scowl. "Been wondering when you were gonna stop making chit chat and call the big guys back in."
Mole grinned cheerfully, and banged a fist against the steel door. "Hey! Assholes! Need someone in here!" When he turned back, Alec was sprawled the ground, seemingly unconscious once more.
White had resumed his pacing as Max sat to one side like a coiled cobra ready to strike. Her eyes followed the Familiar - back and forth, back and forth - loathing and desire still waging a war within her as guilt rose like bile in her throat.
The first time… There was a purpose in that. Twisted and futile as it was.
But now?
How could she ever excuse her actions now? Ames White. A cold-blooded Familiar. Her enemy. He who had committed or arranged the deaths of countless transgenics. Murdered his wife. The mother of his child. And yet here she sat with his scent upon her skin, and the soft warmth of his lips staining her memory.
Unable to bear the sight of White any longer, Max sank her head onto her knees, clutching her arms tight across her body and railed against herself. Revulsion churned within her stomach. There was no motive to what had just taken place. Least, not on her part. Not this time. The fact of the matter was that she had laid aside everything she had come to believe in, and acted on pure impulse. Need. Loneliness. Desperation. Lust.
Piss poor excuses at best.
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Across the room, White broke out of his pacing and leant against the wall, his expression intent as he watched 452 ever so quietly break down. A brief cold smile flickered across his face as she lowered her head to her knees. For all outward appearances, she could simply be resting. Bored. Plotting. But he knew she was wrestling with shame and lust and an all-consuming horror of her own actions.
He knew this, because he was feeling it too – the abhorrence, and the craving for more - much as he was loathe to admit it, even to himself.
452. The perpetual thorn in his side. Tarnished. Less than human. An abhorrence manufactured in a lab by his own traitor father; created for a destiny interlinked with his own. A destiny he swore would never be fulfilled. But here it was, unfolding before him. His father would be so proud. Too bad she'd never live long enough.
This game he played was just a way of spitting in the figurative face of his father. As far as he was concerned, his actions still had a purpose. What better way to pass the time while he waited for this life sentence to end? What was the sense in denying he felt physical attraction for 452 – had done from the moment he laid eyes on her in the cage. After all, it was in his nature to manipulate any situation to his advantage, and what did he care what the Conclave thought of it all now? If they had cameras in this room, he hoped they were enjoying the show.
After an age of door pounding and an arsenal of expletives, the cell door was unlocked and thrust open, and two heavy-set Familiar guards entered. Mole waved an arm towards Alec, lying prone on the floor, and did his best to look helpless. No easy feat.
As one guard approached the unconscious figure, the X5 flipped himself up, slamming his heels into the Familiar before bouncing to his feet and following through with a flying kick to the head. Alec's kick ricocheted the guard backwards, into the waiting arms of Mole who casually broke his neck as he caught his fall.
Before the second Familiar could respond, Joshua grabbed him from behind and lifted him into the air. Finally, able to use his full strength, the transhuman smashed the Familiar down in a move that instantly broke his back. It was not Ames White lying broken at his feet, but it was one step closer.
Mole was already stripping the first Familiar out of his clothes, and shaking his head as he wondered how the hell Alec was going to fit his gear. These snake guys were bred like giants. Alec threw the Familiar's clothing over his own, figuring the extra bulk would help hold up the pants. Nothing a shoestring belt couldn't fix.
"Ready to roll?" Joshua clapped a large hand on Alec's shoulder. Wincing, Alec nodded and gave a brief smile. "I'll bring back pizza" He said with a wink, before slipping out the door.
Once in the corridor, Alec let his bravado slide for a moment as he pondered the predicament they were in. Taking out a couple of guards, donning their gear and mingling amid them in order to discover Max's whereabouts, bust her out, return for the other two then make their escape…
Well it seemed like such a foolproof plan when they were on the other side of this stronghold.
As he hitched up the oversized pants and starts in a direction that had a 50/50 chance of being the right one, Alec realised the word he'd been looking for was foolhardy. Foolhardy.
For the last hour, White had been using the cell as an exercise yard. An extremely small exercise yard. Stripped of his shirt and sleek with sweat, he performed stretches and sit ups, then leapt to an overhanging pipe to complete a few dozen pull ups before the pipe began to groan under his weight and he dropped lightly to the dirt floor, to fall straight back into sit ups once again.
Max was surprised he hadn't broken out a yoga mat and performed the one-armed peacock. She wasn't sure whether he was trying to show her up, or was simply showing off. Either way, it was working. There was a sliver of resentment that the guy actually had energy to burn. Obviously he hadn't been a captive of his own people long enough to truly appreciate the memory of a full meal.
Then there was the other part of her, the traitorous part that had made itself at home in a queasy corner of her stomach (right next door to the growling hunger pangs). She couldn't help but appreciate that this wacky breeding cult's thousand year quest for perfection had quite possibly reached critical mass, and while it felt alien and somewhat sickly to in any way admire White's form, she couldn't help but invent a strange kind of logic that it didn't matter now what she thought or did in regards to Ames White. That line was crossed long ago. Roughly 9 hours in fact, if her estimate was anything to go by.
She tried to close her eyes against him, to deny herself, but in her mind's eye she could still see the angry red welts that adorned his back from when she dug them in to draw him closer. And how his collarbone bore bite mark, from when the friction of his body moving against her caused her to clamp her teeth into his neck to stifle a cry. As the memory caused her skin to flush, she felt her stomach roll again, and she clutched her arms across herself.
Aware of how uncannily silent the cell had become, the transgenic snapped her eyes open, and her gaze met the direct stare of the Familiar, who had ceased his workout to watch her. He frowned slightly as he studied her, as if trying to figure out a complex puzzle.
"Something the matter, 452?"
His tone was neutral, which caught her by surprise. She'd been expecting smug. Scowling at his false concern, she replied, "Gee, where do I begin? Being stuck in this dump with you for one."
A retort twitched the Familiar's lips into a sardonic smile and he opened his mouth to deliver it.
"Oh just shut up!" Max snapped, eyes blazing with a fire he'd learnt how to stoke oh-too-well.
White closed his mouth and turned away to resume his sit ups, but she could see a self-satisfied smirk twitching his lips, and she knew that even without trying, he'd won this round again.