Title: Sublime
Author/pseudonym: Villanelle
Fandom: Mutant X
Pairing: None
Rating: PG
Status: Complete
Spoilers: Slight spoilers for Times Squared, HUGE spoilers for Power Play, and a little knowledge of Blood Ties.
Archive: Do not archive without telling me!
Author websites: www.villanelle.net/jesse
Disclaimers: The world and characters of Mutant X is the property of Tribune Entertainment and other companies. This piece is for entertainment purposes only.
Notes: In the "Jesse in the Eps" thread, I was lamenting on how Jesse seemed to lack a reason to hate Ashlocke. This fic is my attempt to give him one. This is unbetaed, and English is not my first language, so pardon any grammatical errors. And oi! This fic is not slash, so don't get any ideas, please. :)
Summary: Jesse gives Ashlocke the gift of immortality.
Vignette 2: White Noise
People tend to lie, cheat, and use others for personal gain. It was a life lesson that you seem to enjoy learning one time too many. At the same time as it was a lesson, it was also a trap. A trap you fall for every single time.
How did it feel to be used, like a mere tool chiseled without a mind of its own to direct its personal movement? This….it starts with a tiny itch beneath the bones of your chest, until it forms its own fingers, nails scratching, forcing itself into the surface of your skin. Your defenses rise to push away the feeling but it is too strong, and it corrodes your skin, screaming to be let out.
I hate you, Noah.
**************
Gaumont aims his gun at you, sleek like an eagle poised for flight, or in this case, for a kill. But Gaumont is too cold, although he admires you for your powers that made you a weapon more lethal than the lasers he wielded with haughty confidence, he still finds his hands too clean to be tainted by real bloodshed. You find it funny how a man who could use people like you without the semblance of feeling or redemption could find it necessary to protect himself from bloodshed. Is it because he still finds his actions as true means of justice, or because blood itself is too painful because it finalizes his sin? You want to ask him that but you couldn't find the words. You are tired. Too tired.
So he hands the gun to Sophia, and you still feel like you're not really there, like you're a mere audience of a silent movie without subtitles. Sophia turns to you with a predatory smile and aims the gun at you, and still, you can't hear her.
She utters a curse at you coursing through the floor. You fall down to the next floor with an impact you almost felt if you didn't feel so dead. Shalimar utters your name. Brennan calls for you, Emma calls for you, Adam is worried about you.
Still, everything around you is static. Just white noise, indescribable jolts of sound that lets you know that you're there, although you feel with such clarity that you're not.
****************
"Adam, Gaumont's got the Xeraxium," you barely scream out. Shalimar asks if you're all right, Brennan immediately takes control of the situation like the leader that he pretends to be. Emma, silent in her query, feels for you, her deft fingers carrying your weight, knowing that you are here, that's all that matters. But worrisome thoughts fly into your mind like a dozen boomerangs all returning to the same hand that threw it with lightning speed. Gaumont has the Xeraxium. Gotta stop Gaumont. Gotta stop Sophia. Gotta get the laser. And Adam pierces these boomerangs with a knife.
"Gaumont's been using you all along."
And the silent movie begins again. You are numb as Emma and Shalimar help you out of the Twin Creaks, their arms are supporting you, but you can barely feel them there. Brennan, you can barely see or hear him as he gets the Helix, and miraculously, you are sitting down and you are all on your way to stop Gaumont.
Brennan fights to control the Helix as Gaumont releases the lasers to stop all of you. But all of this is pure static to you, until now.
A few minutes ago, you were a mere audience of the movie. You were tired. Too tired.
Now, you are a part of it. And you are angry. Very angry.
You didn't think when you released the electromagnetic pulse to cut off the motor of Gaumont's truck; Brennan's protest, a short distraction. Emma feels for you, you can feel her, looking for you, as you find your way to Gaumont and Sophia.
Everything is so red in your eyes. Red, generating a heat that burns into your skin. Sophia wields the gun, now trembling in her hands. You smile inside as you feel her fear, so lucid amidst the burning rays of the sun. You decide to tease it, force it to come out stark naked. "Your plan was perfect, except for one minor flaw. Me."
And her fear traverses into her words, as her pride forces her to speak despite the terror beneath her skin. "You should have stayed down when you could, Jesse."
And Gaumont speaks. "You really think you can stop me?"
Words, so common to most criminals so sure of themselves they become blind when face-to-face with death.
"No need to, because you've taken care of that yourself." You spied the lasers creeping above you like a spider hanging on its thread, preparing to strike. You mutter more choice words. You mass in seconds, and you look at Gaumont's eyes widen in disbelief, his comrade's dog tags hanging at his palms for dear life.
Die, Noah.
And as Gaumont stands in between fear and disbelief, the lasers hit him. In seconds, he was gone, reduced to mere ashes, to nothingness.
Like how he treated your very own being as he used you as a mere weapon for destruction.
Like how your father treated your love for him as he used you for his own personal gain.
Anger is like a flame licking into the etchings of the heart, strong and silent. It is an emotion that is raw, stark in its power, an emotion that drives human beings to love, an emotion that drives human beings to kill.
And you like it.
You like it so much, you felt your legs propel you forward to inspect Gaumont's ashes, and you pick up his comrade's dogtags with a newfound wonder. A newfound freedom.
Somewhere in the distance, you hear Gabriel laughing. A laugh so far away, yet carrying the same mocking staccato beat that sent chills into your spine the first time you heard it. A laugh, peculiar.
So evil.
You stare one more time at the dog tags in your fingertips, and the silver turns into a mirror, and you see the young man staring at it with a smirk. The smirk on your face seems alien to you, an unfamiliar expression on your face that you struggle to remove, yet held on with tightly with dissent. And for a moment, you see Gaumont's eyes the split second before you pulled the plug from his life, staring at you, almost for mercy. It was eerie, like Gabriel's laughter. Faint, bereft of life, like the silver dog tags from Gaumont's fallen comrades, teasing you with the light.
End Vignette