(Thirteen)
Remy dodged out of the way as Zander hit the wall hard. He barely had time to react before the fight had broken out, it had happened so swiftly. Justin had grabbed the Siskan without an ounce of mercy and flung him against the wall with pathetic ease. The impact of Zander's head shattered the mirror, sending web like cracks all the way down its long length. The Siskan raised his hands to defend himself but built in program inhibitors prevented him from acting further. He took another crushing blow to his face and crumpled on the floor with a whimper.
Justin stood over him his hands still fisted. His eyes were glazed and his body shook with rage. "You pathetic little freak! I catch you in here with him again, I'll have your files erased!"
Zander cowered, covering his face and wishing only for this horrible pain to stop. It went beyond the physical beating, Justin's shine was sparkly with black hate and furious hurt. The vibrations his body gave off were choking Zander like a poisonous fume even as he groveled on the floor.
Justin stepped back, satisfied, and turned to Bruce.
Bruce was standing with his mouth agape, stunned. He had never seen Justin lash out at anyone so violently and was shocked by it. He withered under Justin's angry stare and cowered himself, knowing he was in the shit now. Obviously he had been justified to worry about this affair, Justin wasn't going to sit still for any of it. "I'm so sorry!" he gasped, knowing he had to say something, anything to make this right again.
Justin went off, not the least bit placated by his lover's submission. "What do you think you're doing, fooling around with this toy? You've known me a long time! We grew up together! You know I won't share you, not even with this Siskan piece of trash! What were you thinking!"
"I don't know! I don't know! I was just curious about him because he was Siskan! I mean, Jeez, it's not like he's real or anything!" Bruce blurted out, hoping only to soothe his lover's wrath and get out of this.
Zander put his head to the floor and groaned, hurt more deeply from Bruce's words than Justin's fists. Here it was again, that constant reminder that he wasn't real, that he wasn't good enough to be loved. He shivered from the sharp pain slicing through his heart, his very soul.
"You decide now. Me or this stupid, worthless program!" Justin challenged, his voice shaking with emotion. He was trying to be the strong one here, the manly one, but he was deeply hurt by this betrayal and it showed.
"Don't be ridiculous, of course I choose you! It's not even a question!" Bruce said, his voice shaking with emotion. He'd had no idea that Justin would take this so seriously.
Justin looked into Bruce's eyes and saw his sincerity and fear. He took it as a sign that Bruce's love for him was still neatly in its place and was satisfied. He swallowed heavily and composed himself. "Then let's go. It's time for practice."
Justin grabbed his property in the form of Bruce and dragged him out, not being the least bit gentle. He was calming down, but was still gruff enough to have his lover submit, even to this. Bruce allowed it and never looked back, not even once as he was towed away.
As soon as he was alone, Zander groaned and rose unsteadily. He leaned into the sink and coughed painfully, vomiting up a wad of grey gel. He was overcome with emotion and the shock of being beaten, his artificial body simply hadn't been designed for this level of abuse. Pain was always hard for him and this had been simply awful. Grey fluid poured from his mouth as he heaved into the basin again. It wasn't real vomit or blood, it simply shimmered as it warmed and disappeared away into thin air. Zander's body was one huge agony, the pain was horrible, terrible. He had never felt anything like the repeated emotional and physical assaults he received in this place. Not even Zartak had beaten him this way.
Zander pumped some water and washed his face as he started to cry. His hands trembled with shock and he splashed water everywhere. He didn't notice it much, he was so sick of being trapped here with all of these hateful and violent vibrations. It was awful. If there was any love here, it was as far away from him as it could possibly be.
Zander looked up into the shattered mirror and saw his fractured face, the splintering of who he had become here. It would prove to be an eerie predictor of the future. He felt a surge of self loathing for his weakness and this pathetic existence. He raised his fist to punch the hated image, wanting nothing more for this face, for this life to be over and ended. This was new for him, this bitter self hatred. He had always been loved and so loved himself. Here he was despised and abused because he wasn't real and it was affecting him badly.
Zander saw his raised fist with Young Kimble's eyes and heart and started to shake as he lowered it, surprised at his feelings. "I am, too, real!" he sobbed, miserable. "I ain't trash, I'm real! Sheyman, please! Ya gots ta come back and git me out of here! I gots ta git outta here, please...!" He broke down completely, bawling freely and without shame, the perfect picture of complete and utter misery.
Zander was filled with pain, not just from Justin's blows and Bruce's harsh words. He never got used properly here, not the way he was supposed to. Not the way he was made for. He had been here for five weeks, liberated from the Dognan shelves by the Clan. Instead of being used for pleasure, someone had the bright idea of using the Siskan holograms for training. Day in day out, he had been forced to work as a sparring partner for the Clan men as they trained in the war against the Dognan. He was hit, bashed, yelled at, abused, and never given the sweet release he needed to overcome it all.
He could physically feel the Clan's violent vibrations humming around in the air and bouncing off of the walls. The violence was all around him. He felt it even if it wasn't directed at him. It was like a horrible drumming in his ears, terrible and constant. All of the arrogance of the men and their constant bickering was tearing away at him and driving him mad. He didn't possess the skills to protect himself from the mental bombardment. Even with Zartak, Young Kimble had gotten by because the sessions with clients kept him going. Those small doses of love were still there, holding him up. He didn't have that here. He had never gone this long before without being properly used.
This wasn't just about sex, it was the intimacy he craved. That split second where for just one moment, he was the bright shining center of someone else's universe. He was important. He was loved, even if it was for just one time. He wasn't looking for permanence, just the repetition of that love flowing over him again and again. Just one dose of that wonderful healing love would have rubbed out a great deal of the pain he was trying to deal with now. His young and budding personality, designed for much gentler pursuits, could not cope with the constant mental and physical abuse that had become his new daily fare. He sobbed now as he fell to the cold stone floor, abandoning all hope as he prayed for a death that would never come.
He wasn't the only one suffering. Remy was down on his knees as well, holding his face in agony. He had thought that since he wasn't sharing Young Kimble's body that he would be spared the physical pain of what the Siskan felt. He was wrong. He had felt Justin's blow as if he had received it himself.
Gambit was fast, Gambit was quick, Gambit had years of hand to hand training. He couldn't remember the last time he had been hit in the face like this and with such force. Making matters worse was the fact that Zander's misery was being dumped in on him as well. The pleasure room he had tolerated well enough because that had been fun. As lovely as that had been, what he was feeling now was ten times worse.
He knew what this was even if he was powerless to do anything about it. His meager empathy had just been given a serious upgrade, but he'd had no time to work with it. He had lived around enough telepaths and empaths in the Mansion to know that mental shields were required, not just for defense against attack, but just for day to day living. It was so easy for mental perceptives to get swamped by the emotions of others around them. He also knew that it could take months, even years for some empaths to build strong enough shields to protect themselves. He'd had no time. Gambit was strong willed like Wolverine and a survivor, but he'd had just about enough. He had no shields, not for all the emotional bombs going off all around him like this.
He let one sob get out of him before he could stop it, the tension and pain was too great, and he felt the pilot Kimble bump into him gently. "Not 'xactly one a my brighter moments, huh?" Kimble whispered. His voice was scratchy and strained. He was suffering himself but because all of his programming was still in place, he was quick to comfort the nearest person in distress in spite of his own suffering. He put his arms around Remy and held him, just as he had held Seth, trying to ease the sting of this.
Remy tried to pull himself together. He couldn't lose it out here, no shields or not. He might not be in the middle of some big mutant battle, but he was still on the job here. Granted, this was in many ways harder than an all out brawl, but he had to see Kimble through this the same as he would for any other troubled mutant. He had to keep his wits. He had to remember his training. He reached out, taking a hand from his face to touch Kimble's. "Je suis bien," he stammered. " 'M okay. Jus' give dis boy a minute, d'accorde?"
"I'm sorry 'bouts alla this, Rems. I truly am. It wuzn't my idear ta haves ya here," Kimble apologized. He could feel Remy's pain because he was holding him and Zander's because it was his own. "I wouldn't ever want nobody ta be feelin' this, least of all you cuz I loves ya. I means that." He gave Remy another comforting squeeze. "I'm real sorry. Please don' hates me. I'm so sorry!"
Remy wiped his eyes as he felt some of the pain dissipate. Kimble was taking some of it, the pilot's presence was a relief. It would have been a lot worse if he'd been here alone. Gambit gathered himself, falling back into the role of protector and helper. He could compartmentalize this if he thought about it hard enough, he could get through this by thinking only of his friend and not himself and collapse later, preferably into a big bottle of whiskey. He was an X-man after all, trained for extreme stress. He could do this. "Je suis bien, don't worry. Gambit don' 'ate you. 'E's just not used to de abuse, mon ami," he gasped in a weak joke, a feeble attempt at levity.
Kimble smiled, relieved to see it. Remy must not be that mad, not if he was trying to joke around. "Don' worry, it's almost done."
"Dis de worst of it, non? S'il vous plait?"
Kimble put his head down on Gambit's shoulder. "No."
