xoxo.
X
She's changing. There's no doubt about it. With each passing breath, she finds herself getting hotter, and with nowhere to go, the outcome will be severe. She needs to escape, to find a way out before she takes on the role of a mass murderer— something far from what she is, but she can't. Not until she realizes.
She sits among a support group in an uncomfortable chair, legs crossed, hands balled into fists on her lap. Beads of sweat forming upon her knitted brows as her brown hues wander around the room. It's bland. No color, no decor. Just transparency, her, and people like her suffering from a lack of control.
Over the years since her power activated, Olivia has always shown tremendous control. Reaching considerable feats with only the help of her husband Fitz when he came into the picture and the sheer will within her, there was nothing to hold her back— nothing to stop her from being everything she's meant to be.
Until now.
Incoherent babbling surrounds her. One by one, the people go around the circle, filling the room with stories that didn't end so well and how they overcame the difficulties that arose. As much as she wants to focus, she's unable to. Voices screeching, the room spinning, her mind splitting in half. Control seems unlikely.
"Olivia." Dr. Dans notices the shift in her demeanor, everyone's gaze cutting to her.
"Today's lesson is control, and you aren't making a good example of that."
"I'm sorry, I'm just— it's hard. I'm having difficulties believing that I'm anything but a weapon." Unclenching her fists, a small fire dancing in her palms.
"How can I be anything else when I can do this?" A slight pause. "I've killed—"
"That wasn't your fault." He counters. "You were defending yourself from some nasty men. Men who wanted to use you. Men who wanted to dissect everything that you are to find out what makes you tick."
The thought makes the flame grow bigger, coursing around the entirety of her hands.
"What makes me tick? They wanted me dead— my head on a silver platter. There is no way around it." The flames travel up her arms.
"Olivia, control yourself. Remember what this exercise is for."
"What good is control when you can do what I do?" Head tipped to the left, rings of fire appearing within her dark hues.
"You're better than this." Rising to his feet, a few steps closer to her. "This gift you have isn't the nucleus of destruction. It's warmth, light. One of which this world can use more of."
Her entirety becomes consumed with fire, strands of hair transmuting to the element as she gradually hovers into the air— her burning gaze wandering around the room. This session is a test— a test to see if she can remain in control.
Olivia is a pyromancer. In other words, she can create, shape, and manipulate fire; the rapid oxidation of a material in the exothermic chemical process of combustion, releasing heat, light, and various reaction products, the flame is the fire's visible portion. Depending on the substances alight and any impurities outside, the color of the fire and the fire's intensity will be different.
"The choice is yours, Olivia." Dr. Dans returns to his seat, watching the rage consume her.
"Will you fall, or will you fly?"
She's been asked this question thousands of times and never knew how to go about it, but this time, she's ready.
Many people depend on her to be the brightest star dancing in the sky. She's the pinnacle of hope, happiness, and joy, and she can't take a detour that'll lead to her demise. She's a powerful woman, wife, and hero.
With a deep breath, her power ceases, and she returns to normal, landing on her feet.
"I want to fly."
Everything around Olivia freezes. The sound of machines whirring in the background fills the silence, and within a matter of seconds, everything besides Olivia pixelates and dissipates into a cloud of dust. The modern yet high-tech decor shimmering as the room returns to normal. The simulation complete.
The warm lights turn on, and in walks Huck and Fitz. The latter's holding a clipboard in his hand. His walk exuding strict confidence as his crooked grin graces his lips. His gorgeous brown and gray curls are bouncing wild on his head, complemented by a light stubble beard that enhances his splendor and attraction.
And his body? The man is a virtual image of ancient Greek fantasies, a herculean figure of immense strength that showed in each strand of taut muscle and sinewy. He casts a shadow that nearly fills the room. His white t-shirt fit him perfectly, and as such, there's no denying that he's an athletic man molded into a shape that only comes from spending a lot of time in a gym.
He's also gifted like his beautiful wife.
Fitzgerald Grant: organic metal skin; the ability to have skin with organic cells with metallic properties; and gravity manipulation; the ability to manipulate gravity. He balances her out when needed.
"So, how did I do?" Olivia asks, turning to face them. "Good, right?"
"I'll admit I was pretty worried you'd annihilate everything in the simulation when the incident from your past came up, but you remained calm," Fitz informs.
"And your power levels are stable," Huck adds. "There are no signs of depletion."
"Perfect." Her hands move to Fitz's chest when he closes in on her, his arms slipping around her waist to pull her close before sharing a kiss.
"We have that meeting with the president, right?"
"Yes. In an hour."
"Good. There's something I need from you." Hues cutting to Huck. "Any word on this Kingpin that's been terrorizing the city?"
"Yes. He's taking refuge in some abandoned warehouse in the rural parts of the city. I'm sending the location to your implants now."
Olivia's bracelet glows blue, as does Fitz's watch.
"Just be careful. Keep the casualties to a minimum." He can't stress that enough. "Only kill if you have to."
"Okay." They reply in unison, Olivia leaving Fitz's embrace and proceeding to the door.
"Five minutes, Fitz."
"I'll be there." Watching her walk away until she disappears, his attention reverting to Huck.
"Are we sure she's ready? I know she's been under a lot of stress."
"She's ready. The simulation never lies." He assures, a hand gracing Fitz's shoulder. "If she weren't, she would've killed everyone in there."
The worry fades. "Okay. It looks like the dynamic duo is back."
X
"Fuck me." Olivia breathes into Fitz's mouth, voice echoing off the walls of the bathroom as she straddles him in the bath. After the simulation, she needed a good taste of reality.
He doesn't need any more encouragement. His hand moving to his hardened arousal, and he pumps himself once, twice, before pressing the tip of himself against her. He's carefully slow to enter her— both basking in the feeling of her tight vice around him. As soon as he's entirely inside of her, her hips began to rock against him.
Her eyes squeeze shut in pleasure as he brings a hand up to wrap around her neck. He knows just the right amount of pressure to apply to her throat to make her even wetter.
He grips her hip with his other hand and changes her pace, moving her against him even faster. Her stomach in knots as heat spreads everywhere. She's close— and rightfully so.
"Fitz..." she moans, but he knows without her having to say anything. He knows her body as well as she does.
"Mmmh, give it to me." He groans, sporadic gasps slipping through his lips.
He squeezes her throat even tighter, momentarily cutting off her air supply, and the intensity in her head and her core makes her cum. Her silky vice clenching around his arousal. She cries out his name without hesitation, and he continues pumping inside of her, watching her ride out her high.
It takes a moment, but she finally remembers how to open her eyes when he comes undone inside of you, his warm seed filling her up and his groans mixing with the music of her moans. A delight they've always relished in with one another, a warranted addiction to say the least that wraps them in a cocoon of euphoria.
She stays on his lap for several minutes, exchanging gentle kisses. This is the first— well, the second time she finds herself in awe of Fitz and how he understands every aspect of who she is and her body. Every touch, kiss, and orgasm are binding her to a high she never wants to escape.
"Still feeling the effects of the simulation?" He asks, lips moving to her neck, leaving subtle marks behind.
"Oh, no." Lip tucking between her teeth, her head falls back— relishing in the feeling of his lips against her skin.
"You snapped me right out of that."
X
Side by side, Fitz and Olivia walk down the halls of the White House, attracting a great deal of attention. It's the third time they've been here to leave with no results, but this time— they'll remain planted in the Oval Office.
Fitz goes the dark route with his orbit. Black Tom Ford suit and shoes, slicked back curls leaving one to dangle over his forehead and a black briefcase. Though he's confident, there's an underlying feeling of pointlessness.
And Olivia? Of course, she stuns in a white Prada suit with red accents, white heels, and her signature white purse. Her hips swaying and her will burning more than the heat of her powers. She's prepared to get what she wants.
As they close in on the oval, his hand finds the arch of Olivia's back.
"No matter what, we aren't leaving here until she helps us."
"Agreed."
Quinn Perkins: the president's assistant, rises to her feet when she sees the family.
"President Whelan is waiting for you, and just a heads up, she's not in the best mood."
They acknowledge her with a nod before entering the oval, closing the door behind them. President Whelan is standing perfectly by her chair, arms crossed— her red tresses draped over the shoulders of her cream suit.
"If it isn't the Grants. It's nice to see you again." Gesturing them to the empty couch. "Let's get started, shall we?"
They take a seat on the couch, Fitz preparing to place his briefcase on the table, but he ceases when she raises a hand to stop him.
"There's no need for that. I'm a bit pressed for time, so let's just skip to the point. Why did you request another meeting? I've already said what I had to say."
Olivia despises the tone. "You did, but you didn't let us say what we had to say."
Silence.
Checkmate.
"We want you to consider having Fitz, and I work under your order." Crossing her legs. "We don't need your money or your resources, just your word that you'll allow people like us to do our jobs as heroes."
"And why do you think I need you specifically? Your gifts are more chaotic. Having you both under my order means that I'm responsible for any and everything that goes wrong. That includes excessive damages to the city, casualties, and more people like you showing up."
"We get that." Fitz replies, "but we aren't children who can't control their power. We train hard every day, we kill when needed, which is a rarity, and we always make sure that the people and the city come first."
A soft hum. "Wasn't there an incident where Olivia leveled three blocks, killing over fifty people?"
"That was different." Olivia retorts.
"Do tell."
"One, I wasn't a hero around the time of that incident. I was being hunted by men who wanted to exploit this power, men who wanted to use me as a weapon. Two, I think we're losing sight of the reason why we're here." Brows knitting.
"This isn't about Fitz or me. This is about the good of the country. We've saved countless civilians on our own accord and even helped you indirectly."
"And before you comment, President Whelan, please understand that we didn't have to come here out of respect for you and how you want your country ran," Fitz adds.
"We could've continued to ride the shadows and keep the streets clean."
"So, why didn't you?"
"Because we're tired of not being seen." Olivia answers. "The world needs heroes, and if you aren't going to get up from behind your desk, go out there, and fight the fight we've been fighting, I suggest you take what we're saying into consideration."
That strikes a nerve, but she's impressed.
"Where was this fire the first two times?"
The question causes Olivia and Fitz to exchange glances before casting their gaze back on Whelan.
"Had you shown me this side of you, the first two meetings would've gone very differently, but we're here now." A faint smile.
"Tell me. The last time you were here, you mentioned the Kingpin terrorizing the city." Hues cutting to Fitz. "Have you found him?"
"No, but—"
Before Fitz could finish, there's a knock on the door that attracts their attention. When the door opens, in walks a man dressed to perfection in a black Saint Laurent leather-trimmed wool safari jacket, chalk-stripe wool-twill trousers, and black leather loafers.
The couple takes note immediately.
He's somewhat tall, slim figured, and rather pretty, but not in a condescending way. His hair is a little past his shoulders, waved, and he's carrying a red folder which signifies someone has been killed. The sight of him brings the president to her feet.
"Sorry to interrupt, Madam President, but I handled that situation." Holding the folder out, she takes it and examines the contents.
"Good." Closing the folder, she turns to Fitz and Olivia, sliding the folder across the table.
"Looks like your friend has been eliminated."
Fitz picks up the folder, and when he opens it, the horrific images of the Kingpin bombard his and Olivia's mind. Quickly closing it, he places it back on the table.
"What did you do to him?" The question is for the man, but he doesn't acknowledge it.
"My constituent here did what needed to be done, but that doesn't mean I don't have use for you two." Gesturing a nod.
"He'll explain it."
"The Kingpin may be a pile of blood and bones, but his work still succeeds him. Two more warehouses need to be hit before we can consider this a win." Turning to Olivia and Fitz.
"That's where you two come in." Folding his arms across his chest. "You tag along with me, we finish this once and for all with flawless execution, and President Whelan will agree to your proposal."
Fitz doesn't hesitate to agree. "Deal."
"I just have one question." Olivia's brows furrow. "Who are you?"
"Ryan Hunter." Dark brown hues flashing pink. "It's nice to meet you finally."
And as quick as he came, he vanishes, leaving a faint pink smoke behind that fades away.
"So, are you ready to show your skill?" Whelan asks.
"We are." The couple answers simultaneously, rising to their feet.
"We won't let you down, Madam President," Olivia assures.
A faint smile. "I'm counting on it."
X
Ryan Hunter. A former intelligence officer in MI6 trained as a spy, martial artist, and assassin, and outfitted with an arsenal of high-tech weaponry, mainly a pair of cybernetic sai embedded with his DNA for various purposes. He's lethal and gifted.
Ryan is psionic. In detailed terms, he can create, shape, and manipulate psychic energy in various ways, including manifesting in material form. He's also an illusionist, which allows him to create, shape, and manipulate illusions, causing targets to see, hear, touch, smell or taste things that do not exist or cause them to perceive things differently from what they truly are.
His gifts are the reason his work with MI6 was cut short. They deemed him a liability— a threat to society and vowed to have him killed. It wasn't until President Whelan found him on her radar and gave him a job to provide him with protection MI6 cannot bypass and give him a chance to use his talents for good.
And he has.
Entering his apartment, rustic in design, he's caught by surprise when he sees his boyfriend Ari doing push-ups on the counter in a white t-shirt, green shorts that sit on his thighs, and brown boots. Why? Who knows, but he rolls with it— closing the door behind him, taking the chance to admire him before interrupting.
Ari is a beautiful work of art, his body a sculpted terrain of firm muscles and golden skin, every tempting inch further proof of his utter and undeniable perfection. His medium-length hair is flowing with each push-up complemented by his cleaned, rugged beard.
Yes.
"Ari. Why are you doing push-ups on the counter?"
"Don't worry; I'll make sure I wipe it down." One last push-up, he maneuvers himself to sit on the counter— legs on opposite sides. He smiles.
"How was work today?"
"Good." Approaching the counter, resting an elbow against it. "Took care of the Kingpin and saw that family again."
"The Grants?"
A hum to confirm.
"How are they?"
"Adamant on becoming part of the president's order." A hand traveling up Ari's thigh.
"Do you think that's a good idea? The order isn't necessarily meant for people like them. They're too good."
"Yeah, but they have the will to do what's right. However, they just want to be heroes, not do what we do."
"Either way, it has nothing to do with you."
"You're right, but I'm going to need your help."
"You know the president hates me for calling her out on her bullshit. I can't."
"Which is why I said I need your help." Hands gracing his cheeks. "Next mission, they're tagging along. President Whelan wants the Kingpin and everything standing in his name eradicated. I could use your talents and expertise."
"Mmm, my talents and expertise?" He repeats as a question.
"Yes."
Ari Mitchell. A former mercenary, a formidable fighter, and an even more ruthless killer who found himself near death during a deal gone wrong. He played with fire and was met by a bomb that left his body in an incapacitated state though his brain was still active.
He was kept on life support for years in an underground facility funded by President Whelan, who liked his track record. When there were no signs of recovery in sight, she made a judgment call to inject him with a serum that enhances the human body and mind.
This process gave him a second chance at life. With no destructive abilities, Ari makes up for it with his enhanced condition, which means he possesses capabilities, attributes, and aspects at an enhanced level, beyond that of the average member of humans.
Complementing that is his weapon proficiency. This is the ability to understand and use all weapons with the proficiency of a master. He's also a teleporter, allowing him to move instantaneously from one location to another without physically occupying the space in between. He's the perfect soldier.
And how did he and Ryan meet? Well, they tried to kill each other a few times in the past.
"I can't say no to that face, but under one condition."
"What is it?" Hands rubbing up to his chest.
Leaning on, lips to Ryan's ear. "I want to hear you scream."
Pulling his head back to meet his gaze. "Deal."
X
"What do you mean you have nothing?" Olivia asks, leaning against the computer desk while Huck searches for information on Mr. Hunter.
"He works for the president. How is there nothing on him?"
"Maybe she removed him from all databases because of the work he's doing for her." Fitz answers.
"I don't think that's true." She retorts.
"Maybe it has nothing to do with her and more to do with his past." Huck suggests, "but why are you so curious?"
"You should've seen what he did to the Kingpin, Huck. It was the most gruesome thing Fitz, and I have ever seen."
"I think that's pushing it."
Brows knitting. "What makes you say that?"
"I have the images of the body. Mind if I pull them up to explain?"
"Feel free."
Palm gracing the computer screen, he swipes his hand across, and the images of the Kingpin appear like a holographic screen before them. Olivia and Fitz wince in disgust, but they keep their comments to themselves.
"If you look closely at the wounds, you'll see they're self-inflicted."
"So, you're saying he didn't do this?" Fitz inquires.
"Yes, but that doesn't mean he wasn't the cause of the wounds." Two taps and the images vanish.
Hunter himself appears with an apple in his hand out of the blue— attracting everyone's attention— the faint pink smoke fading.
"If you're done discussing what I did or didn't do to some asshole that was terrorizing the city, we have a job to do." Taking one last bite of the apple, he discards it in the trash.
"What the hell. How did you get in here?" Fitz steps forward, hues shifting cobalt.
"Magic." Hues flashing pink. "Kidding. President Whelan gave me your address, so I came."
Olivia grabs Fitz's shoulder, taking him off the offensive mode. "The security systems?"
"Are outdated." Arms folding across his chest. "Any more questions, or can we go?"
Glances are exchanged amongst the group before Olivia steps forward.
"We're ready."
X
The ride to warehouse number two is silent. Fitz and Olivia sit in the back of the truck while Ryan and Ari stand closer to the front engaging in irrelevant conversation. The married couple has dealt with all kinds of craziness as a superhero duo, but this? This is different. They're under a microscope, and if they so much as lift a finger the wrong way, President Whelan can go back on her word and deny the proposal.
So, they have to play nice.
As much as they don't want to.
"So—" Olivia breaks the silence. "— are you two a couple?"
"When we want to be," Ari answers, Ryan's brows knitting. "Have you killed anyone?"
She has, plenty of times. "Yes, but that was before my ascension to hero."
"Then I have news for you." Grabbing the bar on the truck's roof to stop him from falling as the truck turns down the street of the warehouse.
"You're in the wrong truck."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Fitz wonders.
"This is a kill mission. Everyone inside has to die for this mission to be a success."
"That's not—"
"You're more than welcome to go home," Ryan speaks. "If you want to remain these outstanding heroes with perfect moral compasses, then you can leave now, but if you do, you won't get what you want."
"You played us."
"If I wanted to play you, you'd never know."
"This is the president's request, Fitz." Olivia stares out the window. "This is her test, and if we want our proposal to be accepted, we have to do this."
His hues fixated on Ryan, he apologizes for the assumption silently, shifting his attention to Olivia.
"And what if she asks us to do it again?"
"Then it's a small price we have to pay."
Only Olivia can make sense of things like this with her words. Fitz would rather fight, but sometimes that's not the best option.
"We're here," Ari announces, the truck slowing and the lights shutting off.
"What's the plan?" Olivia asks, rising to her feet. "Do we go in guns blazing?"
"Ryan and I will take care of the goons outside of the warehouse. You sit patiently and wait for our signal." Ari answers.
"What's the signal?" Fitz asks, rising to his feet.
"You'll know when you see it." Ryan places a hand on Ari's shoulder. "Let's go."
In a cloud of black smoke, Ari and Ryan vanish from the truck, leaving the Grants behind to watch this flawless execution Ryan mentioned.
X
Appearing on the guarded roof of the warehouse, the black smoke fading, Ari and Ryan do what President Whelan sent them to do. Kill.
"Hey, you! You aren't supposed to be here!" A goon speaks, prompting the others to surround the couple.
"I'll take the back; you take the front." Ari retrieves his dual katanas from their sheath on his back, spinning them in his hands.
"See you at the bottom." Pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. "Oh— and take out our friends, will you?"
"With pleasure."
Ari teleports away, and Ryan's hues shift pink as the footsteps close in on him. Rolling his neck, pink energy forms a pair of sai composed of psionic energy in his hands, and when his shoulder is grabbed, the killing commences.
Vanishing and reappearing behind the goon, Ryan jags his sai into the back of his neck, psionically burning the flesh from his face. Removing it, he elbows an oncoming goon in the bridge of his nose— breaking it before vanishing and reappearing in the sky. His sai pointed downwards; he stabs them into the disoriented goon— violently stabbing him in his chest.
Guns are drawn, but before they can shoot, he creates a psionic nexus that draws the weapons in, disarming the remaining goons. Spinning the sai in his hands, he chuckles while creating two psionic duplicates of himself with extending claws that charge towards the goons, tearing through them with ease— leaving nothing but bloodies corpses behind.
Down below, Ari takes the quick approach and teleports behind the goons along the stairs of the fire escape guarding the side entrances— stabbing them through their chest. Time is essential, so he has to be quick; otherwise, the mission would end in failure. When the fire escape is clear, he vanishes and reappears down below, surrounded by a plethora of goons.
With a smirk, he spins rapidly, slicing their heads off with a clean cut. Dodging a kick from the left, he grabs the leg and somersaults into the air— vanishing. The goon falls onto his back, and before he can scream, Ari jags his blade into his mouth with an inordinate amount of strength. Sheathing his swords, he picks up the body and throws it into the air— signal complete.
Fitz surrounds himself and Olivia in a gravikinetic aura from inside the truck and flies out into the sky towards the building. Along the way, Olivia surrounds the deceased body in the air with flames that dance around the corpse— burning it to a crisp.
"We need a way in," Olivia speaks.
"I have an idea."
Arms wrapping around Olivia, he surrounds them with enough gravikinetic energy— propelling them towards the warehouse. Within a matter of seconds, they crash through the front of the building, leaving a giant hole in the front. Gunfire ensues, but with cobalt hues, Fitz descends to the ground with Olivia behind him, expanding the energy around them— creating a hemisphere of gravikinetic energy that prompts the bullets to spin around them.
"Any ideas?" He inquires, the barrage of bullets becoming too much. "Not sure how long I can hold this!"
"Drop it." Olivia's hues raging with a fire that dances around her body. "Let's have some fun."
With her words in mind, Fitz maneuvers the energy from the hemisphere he created to spin around them at a higher velocity. With a step forward, he sends the bullet mixed energy towards the incapacitated goons. The gravikinetic energy sends them flying back, the bullets piercing their skin, leaving dismembered corpses behind.
"Now, Olivia!"
Outstretching her hands in the direction of the goons, Olivia sends a river of flames hastening towards them— burning the majority of them to crisps, same as before. And the ones that are left, well, that's where the real fun begins.
Somersaulting over Fitz's shoulders as the remaining goons approach them, Olivia brings her heel down on one's head— kicking him to the floor. Hands consumed with fire, she brings forth a pillar of fire from below that sends him into the air and towards Fitz. Rolling his neck, Fitz trades his normal skin for his organic metal skin, granting superhuman strength, stamina, endurance, and durability.
With the body coming his way, he leaps into the air and clotheslines the goon's head clean off. When he lands, he charges to the last one's standing— Olivia jumping onto his back. When they close in, she vaults off of him into the air. Spinning rapidly, she launches blades of fire that lacerate and burn their skin. Fitz charges one with his shoulders, sending him flying back into the wall.
He's hit with a chair in the back of his head, but it doesn't affect him. Turning around unscathed, he grabs the goon by his neck and throws him into the air. With her flames dancing around her body, Olivia wraps herself around the goon, heating herself to incalculable levels, burning the flesh from his bones— landing perfectly on the floor. The duo's now approaching the last man standing.
The toe of her heel to his crotch, Olivia brings the goon to his knees. His screams echo off the walls, but having enough, Fitz reaches into his mouth with ease, pulling out his throat from the inside and throwing it aside. They watch him struggle to breathe, grasping at the hole in his neck only to die not even seconds later. With a huff, Fitz's skin returns to normal, and Olivia's flames cease.
The coast is now clear.
Right on cue, Ryan and Ari appear in a cloud of black smoke— both covered in blood. A quick look around, and they're pleased with the results.
"Good work." Ryan acknowledges. "President Whelan is expecting you first thing in the morning." He informs.
"Don't be late. Oh, and get rid of the bodies, will you?"
And with that, Ryan and Ari vanish in a cloud of black smoke.
"Let's make this quick," Fitz speaks, a hand outstretched to the deceased bodies; he gravikinetically lifts them into the air.
Fire dancing around Olivia, she shoots a barrage of fireballs to the bodies— incinerating them with ease.
"Now we can go."
Taking her hand in his, Fitz surrounds them in a gravikinetic aura and flies into the sky— disappearing into the night.