Fictober Prompt 4: "Fine, I give up."
Black Hole Years
They locked eyes. The room, dimly lit and packed with the degenerates of the psychic underworld, suddenly suffocated Chloe. She hadn't cared when she arrived, slinking around in a gray trench coat and a bandana wrapped around her mouth among monsters. But now, her chest squeezed, the scent of body odor and liquor making her head and vision swim.
So, this is where you've been, she thought, knowing damn well her words pierced through his mind.
He didn't answer. Bobby's mouth tightened, and she watched him slowly shake his head at her. She couldn't discern his expression in the poor lighting, and his mental defenses were too powerful for her to crack.
Clenching her fists, Chloe waded through the crowd. She stepped on tobacco and narcotic powders, grinding them under her sneakers. A few unscrupulous men glared at her, but she paid them no mind, not when her target was directly in front of her.
Someone nudged into Chloe. A short gasp escaped her. Bobby flicked his head at the woman who fell into her. The woman stumbled, her arms shooting out and clutching Chloe's shoulders. Her heels dug into Chloe's feet, and she gritted her teeth, biting back a sharp remark that would have jeopardized the mission.
The woman, dressed in garish shades of pink and real fur, raised her head. Chloe met her bleary gaze with cool indifference and suppressed her pity. She blinked her long lashes at Chloe, then a flash of recognition brightened her emerald eyes.
"Psychonaut!" she exclaimed, jabbing her finger at Chloe's nose.
Her cover immediately blew. All eyes turned to her, feverish and bloodshot, the air stinking with alcohol-filled gasps. Voices roared, rattling her brain with their indistinguishable insults. Hands rushed for her, but she set her fingers to her temple, her shield propelling them backward.
She wouldn't let them distract her. Bobby continued to observe her when they yanked knives and guns out of their belts and holsters. Someone fired and hit another man, a spurt of blood flying in through the air, and hell broke loose. Fists flew. Legs kicked. People stampeded for the exits, the chaos providing them their opportunities.
Bobby raced for the back door. He bashed his elbows into people unfortunate enough to be in his way and dove out. Chloe charged after him, bouncing off her heels into the air. Anger nearly blinded her if she hadn't focused on the thrill of finally capturing him, and levitating, she dashed out after him into the night.
Sirens echoed. Blue and red lights flashed in the distance. People poured out of the abandoned building in the middle of a nowhere city. Engines revved, and tires screamed on the pavement, but Chloe didn't care about the cacophony.
Bobby was fast. He was already a block ahead of her. She wasted no further time and chased him. The wind cut at her face, forcing her eyes into a squint. At the corner of a stucco apartment building, Bobby skidded to a stop. He whipped around, something green illuminating in his hand, and he chucked it at her face.
She gasped. She shot skyward as the confusion grenade exploded where she once levitated. The noxious gas seeped around her, numbing her legs, but she continued toward him, her nostrils flaring.
Don't think a childish maneuver like that will stop me, she thought, and again, he didn't answer her.
She counted ten paces between them on the street. He hadn't moved when he could have easily outrun her. He was one the fastest levitators in the world, beating out even Agent Hedgemouse, and Chloe pondered his next move.
"Are you done fleeing?" she asked, glancing at his stance. He levitated a few inches off the ground. "I suppose not. You wouldn't make this easy for me."
Again, no answer. It pissed her off. She threw her fingers to her brow and tossed out her telekinetic hand. Bobby pushed his own hand forward, a thick sweatband wrapped around the wrist, and snatched her glowing fingers. Chloe grimaced, her fingers tensing, and Bobby jerked his arm inward, pulling Chloe to the pavement. Her knees buckled, but she refused to fall, and instead, she kicked off the ground, breaking her telekinetic connection.
Bobby gasped. She lunged for his throat, white lights flashing behind her. He looked over her just as she snatched the lapels of his faded leather jacket. The harsh metal clasps dug into her skin.
A horn blared. Several followed in quick succession. Tires screeched toward them. Bobby was like a deer in headlights, frozen, even as Chloe threw themselves to the sidewalk, countless cars speeding passed them, police cars en route, red, white, and blue lights blinding them, but she finally had him where she wanted.
His head hit the ground with a sound that made Chloe's stomach churn. A faint trickle of blood slipped down his right nostril. She tightened her grasp on his lapels, shaking him, unable to fully subdue her rage.
"Hello, Bobby," she growled. "Did you miss me?"
He breathed through his mouth. His chest heaved, and he sucked in another gasp. Bobby's arms were splayed out, his legs trembling. He met her gaze, his glasses lopsided, forcing him to peer at her with his stronger eye.
She wanted to shake him. She wanted to unleash every bit of sorrow and confusion she had felt over the last several years. He had suddenly discontinued all manners of communication with her when they were younger. He had quit the Psychonauts just when she joined the intern program. When she was an agent, he had reappeared as an opportunistic hitman working for the worst scum of the psychic underworld, committing crime after crime after crime, digging his grave.
Now that Chloe had Bobby pinned where she wanted him, glaring at him, she remembered the countless hours she had spent wondering why he had cut her out. Each year felt like an even deeper black hole. It had taken her a long time to crawl out of it with help from friends who loved her, but she still wanted him to be present in her life.
He felt sturdy underneath her. Lean, but thin. A coarse scar cut across his cheek. His freckles seemed faint, his color pale. His hair was frizzy, his fiery orange curls crowning his head. Up close, he was impossibly tall, but when he was lying down, she almost felt the urge to settle down next to him and look at the night sky.
"You're wanted for too many charges that I can even list in a single breath. Betraying the Psychonauts. Assaults. Battery with deadly weapons. Severe misuses of psychic powers against the non-psychic and psychic communities. And I'm finally, finally bringing you down," Chloe hissed, arching her back and leering down at him. She kept her fists in front of her chest, ready to strike him if he tried anything. "Do not think of resisting. I will use force."
He didn't answer. He pushed his glasses up his nose and didn't bother fixing their tilt. His brow creased, and his eyes narrowed, accentuating the deep red bags underneath them. She heard him breathe through his clenched teeth.
"Are you going to say anything?" Chloe asked, throwing her hands out. "Come on, say something. I want to hear your rebuttal. I need to know why."
Nothing. Bobby focused on the moon above them. His eyes seemed misty.
"Talk to me, Bobby," she ordered, trembling. She pushed off him and hurried to her feet. She let him sit up, still staring at her. "Talk! You can go years without speaking with me, but when it's time to finally talk, do you think the silent treatment will work?"
His mouth fell open, but he quickly closed it. He dug his elbows into the cracks in the sidewalk. The hum of the streetlights filled the silence.
"You won't say anything," Chloe remarked, lowering her arms. They slacked by her sides. She tore off her bandana and threw it at his waist, Bobby wincing when it landed on him. She threaded her fingers through her short hair, bowing her head, noticing the Psychonaut pin that had slipped between the buttons of her trench coat. A bitter laugh escaped her. "Well, maybe I should have anticipated that. You did cut me out of your life without warning, and despite my best efforts, I could never contact you again." She threw her hands up, her mouth tightening into a disbelieving smile. "And when you do show up again, it turns out that you've left the Psychonauts for a life of cheap thrills and vices! Isn't that a kick in the teeth?"
Her cheeks flushed. The insects buzzed overhead against the streetlights. The dissonance of the police chase had faded into the bowels of the city. It was as if they were the last people alive, all lights in apartments and business off, all voices hushed, just like it had been when they were stargazing children in the wilderness.
'Anything?" she blurted, crossing her arms and gripping her elbows. "Will you say anything to me?"
He gripped her bandana. She watched his bony fingers brush against the scratchy cloth. He seemed unaware of his surroundings, looking at the street and the parked cars as if trying to comprehend them.
His gaze fell to his hands. Scars lined them, some old, some new. They startled Chloe, her brows knitting together. He raked his fingernails through his scalp, lifting a few strands of matted hair and tugging his hand free.
She wished she knew what kind of thoughts ran through his mind. She wondered if she ever knew him at all, if she had wasted her time, gaps of her life, trying to fill the void of uncertainty he left behind. Chloe took a step closer, her shadow crossing over him, and he flinched, turning his head away, his shoulders hitching as if she had struck him.
"What happened to you? What happened, Bobby?" she whispered.
Bobby slipped off his glasses. They landed in his lap, and he massaged his eyes with his thumbs. Faint bruises decorated his gaunt cheeks, black and blue spots that seemed to have replaced his freckles. She hadn't noticed them, and she swallowed, her heart coming to a stop when he finally sighed.
"Fine, I give up," Bobby said as if he hadn't spoken in years.
That was it. Three words were all she'd get out of him. Chloe didn't know how to feel as Bobby pushed himself to his feet, his glasses landing on the concrete. He towered over her, his hair blocking out the street light, and he offered his wrists, the implication not lost on her.
"I'm not going to cuff you. Recently, psilirium restraints were deemed unethical and illegal," she explained, and Bobby lowered his hands to his waist. She rubbed her neck, the lapse in silence uncomfortable. "I will be bringing you to the Atrium. There, agents who are more experienced with your line of work will take over your case, but I have asked to remain involved. They granted my request."
As she spoke, his eyes seemed unusually wet and shiny. He squeezed them shut, his tall frame trembling, his fists shaking in front of him. Quiet curses slipped out of him, all of them aimed at himself.
Chloe didn't know what to do. Her expression softened as she watched him press his knuckles against his eyes, hiccuping and choking. But just as he didn't answer her, she bent forward and grabbed his glasses, offering them to him.
"Let's go. We have to make up for our lost time," she said, forcing the glasses into his hands.
Bobby stared at her, face damp, eyes glassy. He clutched his glasses with enough force that Chloe feared he'd break them. The Psychonauts certainly wouldn't provide him a second pair.
He shoved them on his face and nodded. Chloe reached out and gripped his wrist, pulling him closer to her. Not another word passed between them but a sigh and sniffle. And then, slipping her hand down to his palm and squeezing it, Chloe teleported them to the Atrium where Bobby would await his judgment.