So I got done listening to Mr. Brenks' audio logs and it only furthered my opinion that he should not have been the "all-time supreme villain" in all this. Yes, he did some shit he shouldn't have but to Hell if it wasn't at least a little justified. I'll spare you beautiful people a rant for your own safety. But the cosmos feel right in the world when I make Damien an ally dammit!
Well, after that, read something that has nothing to do with Damien! Enjoy!
"Mr. Marcowicz?"
Peter looks up from the papers he wasn't reading, staring across the meeting room table at a red-haired woman watching him with concern. She is familiar, but for the life of the man he couldn't remember what branch she resides in. Her name is Sandra; he is sure about that.
"Yes…I lost myself for a moment," He says, trying to keep his voice even. The last couple of weeks felt like a heinous nightmare he couldn't wake up from. He remembers waking up in the middle of his living room, his son gone and his wife's body lying beside him. His wife. He couldn't process it immediately, her beautiful skin being so pale and lifeless. She looked asleep, peaceful. It broke his heart even more knowing that she would never wake up, never be able to work with what he couldn't.
A psychic killed her, he knew this. The man stood right in front of him, but despite every conceivable effort he could not remember anything beyond the gender. His image is a faded haze in his mind, almost as if he was forced not to recognize it. Then again, he wouldn't be surprised if that was the case.
His wife is gone, yes, and so is his mess of a son. He guessed that he ran off with the murderer without a second thought. He isn't surprised by this either.
He always wanted an excuse to say his son was inherently evil. He begged for a reason to cart him off to some facility so he wouldn't have to deal with him. The man couldn't get himself to do it, however. There is a grinding, painfully reasonable part of himself that knew he couldn't hate the boy. Jay was his son, there was no way around it. His mother…she just wanted him to be normal. She always wanted children, she yearned to love him. Love him like any other human. Because of this, Peter couldn't believe in full confidence that Jay left because he reveled in causing destruction. He left because he knew he could be free from his struggle. The way they raised him was inane, but it was safe. Peter couldn't fully regret what they did, but he could a little.
Jay is not evil. He is a rebellious, bitter and immature but not evil.
Peter briefly notices Sandra exchange looks with the others on the board before standing, "May I talk to you…in private, please?"
The man stares almost dumbly. He has not been able to focus on anything the past week. He heard about a psychic protest going badly, ending in an appearance from the Fox. He remembers Jay talking about him many times with a starry-eyed gaze, speaking about a menace with such enthusiasm…
He heard that the mysterious Fox was seen carrying a young man under his arm.
The man remembers he has been asked to talk and stands, "Yes, or course."
He follows Sandra out of the room and down the hall. There are several sound proof meeting rooms in the Blume headquarters. They enter the farthest one down that sat empty. Sandra turns to him once they get inside, "I'm really worried about you Peter…you haven't spoken for the past hour…or at all really for the last week…"
"I'm know, Sandra, I know," Peter says, "I'm just out of it."
"You're not just 'out of it'!" She says, "You need to stop coming to work, Peter. After everything that has happened you can't stress yourself out."
"I'm not going to just stop, Sandra!" His voice spikes in irritation. One look at her expression makes him take a deep breath, relaxing his tone before continuing, "I won't just give up. I need to keep researching…"
"We can help you," the woman says, touching his shoulder, "We'll help you through this. But now you need to go home. I can tell the board, they will understand—"
"Sandra—"
"Go. And get some rest, you look like you haven't slept in a week."
That's because he hasn't, but Peter didn't want to leave. The events of that night, all the news coverage of it, the interviews…everything drove him to the brink of his sanity. He doesn't want to rest, he wanted to find a way to stop the menace of the psychic race. However, Sandra is desperate, her eyes containing worry that a lot of his coworkers shared.
"Fine…I'll go," Peter agrees quietly to the happy reaction of the woman.
"Thank you…" She says before stepping to the door. She turns back to him, her face soft and kind, "Take it easy, alright?" She leaves him alone in the room.
Peter takes a moment in the quiet to sit, raking his hands through his dark hair. Distantly he wonders where his son disappeared to. Jay may claim to be better off on his own but he isn't. He was sheltered his whole life, he knows nothing about the world. He wouldn't be surprised if he was already dead as well.
Lost in thought he just barely hears the door open and close. Thinking it to be Sandra he looks up only to see someone completely different.
He is a dark-skinned man, tall and young. He looks from someplace in the Wards from how his dark hair is styled in some ridiculous fashion. His eyes are black, but something about them is bright and unnerving. He stands, a hand placed on the table, the other holding a lit cigarette.
"Who are you?" Peter asks, instinctively standing and stepping back.
"Listen, I want to make this quick," The stranger says casually. He had an accent, but it is light, as if he were trying to hide it, "You have a psychic problem?"
Taking it as vivid sarcasm immediately, Peter scoffs, "I've had that problem for twenty-two years."
"I can help you," The stranger speaks simply. His voice is smooth and strangely eloquent for the person who owned it, "I just need you to deal with something for me."
There were more basic questions Peter could ask, like how the Hell the stranger got into the headquarters in the first place. However, all he could hear was that the man had an answer to the psychics, and at this point he is willing to listen to anyone.
"What is your problem then?" He asks.
The stranger seems pleased with his question, smiling brilliantly, "You've heard of the Fox, haven't you?"
"Of course…" He couldn't keep the bitterness from his voice as he speaks, "Who hasn't?"
"He's just…being a bit of a problem."
"That's a gross understatement," Peter says, laughing shortly, "He may be stopping crimes but that's just so the cops don't get on him immediately. Now look what has happened…"
"I completely agree," The stranger says, keeping his smile as he rolls a chair to him, sitting himself down, "Let me tell you a bit about psychics."
Peter slowly joins him at the table, his eyes were grey. The man swore they were black but he tosses the thought aside, listening carefully as the other man spoke. He details each kind of psychic, ones that make objects float, others that control the body and some the mind. Peter asks why he cannot remember the face of his wife's killer. The stranger responds by saying that certain Will Benders, as they are called, can cause amnesia. It makes the man sick to think that his mind is being tampered with by some freak.
The man speaks finally of a psychic's weakness. High frequencies beyond human hearing. It seems like such an odd weakness, but at this point he didn't think the stranger would lie.
"Why are you telling me all this? Why didn't you go to anyone else?" Peter asks carefully.
"You seemed like you needed the information the most," The stranger stands, "Name's Iraq, by the way."
He moves past Peter. The man hears the door open and close, the footsteps silent inside the sound proof room. Peter sits, staring off at the opposite wall, "I've got what I need," He speaks to himself, "I can stop this."
~WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW~
Wick exits Blume headquarters with quick strides, crushing the rest of his cigarette under his boot. He didn't often smoke, but just thinking of being the image of Iraq made his head ache enough to need one. He didn't bothering covering the accent with much effort, Peter clearly couldn't remember that he had one. The amnesia he gave him took a lot of energy to pull off but it made things far easier in the long run.
As for changing into Iraq, well, he hates the bastard, and he needed one hell of a scapegoat for what he just did.
The young man treads down the long, dirt driveway, whistling nonchalantly. Pawnee is a bizarre place to have a high security psychic research facility, but he isn't complaining. He enjoys the city far better, however, and soon. He needs to locate Jay and quickly and move his way back on his side. He hopes to every God available that the Fox hasn't done too much to his ignorance, but he knew his prayers are in vain. It had been two and a half weeks since he disappeared. If the Fox were to do anything, it would be making him less useless.
"How do you outsmart a fox?" Wick mutters to himself as he walks, laughing at the idea, "You don't."
His only chance was that Jay got close to the man. Jay may be stronger than before but he has the unfortunate trait of faith. If he sees Wick again, he'll hear him out. If he could get Jay on his side, the Fox may follow, even if it is reluctant.
He keeps this in mind, strolling to a nearby bike parked at the side of the road. "Where are you, Jay?" He questions to himself, the bike roaring to life at the wave of his hand, "Where has the little mouse gone?"
He shoots off down the road, leaving fading dust in his path.
~WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW~
Jay is alone, a steady and loud beat blaring in his earphones, drowning any sort of natural existence. Beyond, the bridge leading to the city. The sun is rather relentless today, the heat beating at his back as he stares down his objective.
He finds it hard to imagine that it had been three weeks. Aiden is convinced that he is not ready, but despite actually having living conditions he craves the city again. He barely explored a quarter of it before he was pulled into all this. He wants to discover everything this city had to offer, even if it is at his own expense. He isn't useless now.
Finally pulling himself from his desire, he looks back at the bridge. He's seen Aiden move it a dozen times with a simply wave of his hand. Clara sometimes makes a gesture with her foot when her hands refused to leave her pockets. Damien literally doesn't do anything, as if the bridge feared his disappointment.
Now Jay stands in the same spot they always placed themselves at, sneaking out when they were all busy. He speaks to the object, "Alright…I can do this…you can move for me."
He imagines the thing laughing at him like the simple idea was completely ridiculous. It could fuel him really, he always worked better when everyone is against him. He couldn't say why. He supposes that it is all the sweeter when defeating opposition that think of him equivalent to a speck of dust.
"Or a mouse," Jay speaks his thoughts with a voice like poison. He now focuses everything toward the bridge. He closes his eyes, his music still mindlessly blasting loud enough to kill any normal eardrums. Aiden told him to keep his eyes open when using his power, but he couldn't get Wick's idea out of his mind. Visionaries work better with their eyes closed. He practiced alone in his room like that, when Aiden wasn't looking. A tinge of guilt went through him every time, but he continued through it.
He expects the bridge to not respond, he had already readied himself for failure as he imagines the metal turning. He remembers the bridge taking a good thirty seconds to turn fully, he didn't care that he couldn't hear it move. He waits, dropping his arm after the chorus of his song ends. He feels distinctly less energetic, perhaps that is a good sign.
His muscles tense as a hand touches his shoulder. He whips around, grabbing the jacketed arm opening his eyes, staring back at Aiden. He looks back at him, pulling his hand off his wrist. His lips are moving but Jay couldn't hear a word his is saying. Aiden seems to know this, ripping his headphones off with little gentleness, "What are you…dammit, Jay…" He says, tossing the headphones aside.
Despite never hearing Aiden stammer like he did, Jay is more concerned with his headphones being cast aside so recklessly, "Hey! I use those a lot, you know."
"Jay…" Aiden begins again but fails to continue, simply pointing behind him. The younger psychic turns slowly, the bridge completely turned.
A huge grin erupts on his face, "I…I did it! I moved it!" He laughs, turning back to his teacher, "I told you I could do it!"
Aiden isn't nearly as excited as Jay. He conveys more anger than anything else, "Why did you try and move it without me being here? You could have hurt yourself."
Jay's grin falls slightly, "But I didn't! I mean…I am a little tired I guess but…why are you so mad?"
"I'm not…mad," Aiden sighs, "You're not ready to leave, Jay."
A flash of stinging irritation burns Jay's chest, "Excuse me? You're the one that said that if I move the bridge on my own that I could go into the city! You promised that."
"I didn't think you would be able to move it so quickly."
"So you underestimated me," Jay says slowly, unable to hide the acidity in his voice, "No fucking surprise there."
"I didn't…you don't understand, Jay."
"Holy shit," Jay laughs, it is cold and unforgiving, "You sound like every other person I had in my life. 'Jay doesn't understand, Jay is ignorant, Jay can't survive on his own. You know what, out of all people I thought that you would get that I'm different. I'm not a fucking waste of time, I'm just as powerful as anyone here!"
At this point, he couldn't control what he is saying. He didn't care who he is talking to or even how insulting any of it was. He is sick of it; of everything.
"I'm not saying that you are weak, Jay. You need to calm down," Aiden's voice refused to raise, he is always so calm, so steady.
"Why should I? Three weeks I've been with you and to Hell if you notice one damn thing about me. Do you notice anything? At all? Or are you just an emotionless asshole like everyone says you are?"
Aiden narrows his eyes, "I'll say it again. You need to calm down."
"Why should I?" It is a stupid question, but Jay is not in the mood now. He knew his powers go haywire when he is angry, but he didn't care.
"Because you'll get yourself killed. That can't happen." The way Aiden says this is odd. There is a rough, clinging protectiveness in his voice. That isn't what is odd, however. Jay has heard that enough times. It is the very small sense of weakness, as if saying it caused some world ending catastrophe.
This makes Jay rethink himself, but the heat of his frustration is still brimming in him, "I'm not going to do anything stupid. I can walk around Chicago without you breathing down my neck."
"I seriously doubt that."
Jay's eyes flare, speaking again before his mind thought otherwise, "Why don't you trust me? Do you think I'll end up like you niece?"
He could see the older man's muscles tighten, his eyes stricken. Jay forgot that he wasn't actually supposed to know about the niece, but Damien spoke about her. Now, seeing the pure anguish in the Fox's emerald eyes ripped at his heart, "Look…I didn't mean…"
He doesn't finish his sentence, a sudden and powerful pain corrupting his stomach, as if someone punched him there with an iron fist. He wraps an arm around it, gasping away the rest of his apology. He looks back up at Aiden standing in same place, but his expression is fiery, "I don't know how you know about her…but she has nothing to do with you. You are different. You are not her."
"I know I'm not…wait…what?" Jay grumbles out clumsily, trying decide what he meant by him being different. The pain he feels dissipates slowly, he releases himself, seeing Aiden walking away from him, "Wait…! Where are you going? What were you talking about?"
Aiden stops, glancing back at him as if contemplating the meaning of the words himself. He then looks up at the sky, "It will storm soon. You should get back before then."
Jay's frown deepens, "What?"
But he doesn't get an answer, the older psychic already heading back to the bunker. Jay wants to run after him, a tragedy happening in his heart. He needs to apologize, but his legs already head to the bridge. He pulls away from the sight of the Fox, moving across the bridge, the machine moving back as he exits on the other side. Jay rips at his thoughts, forcing himself to head forward, unrelenting.
~WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW~
The city is just as unfamiliar as Jay remembers it before. He feels rather exposed, however. He has contacts that he carries in his pocket, but being in the Bunker for weeks made him believe he needed to stay low. But, that is Aiden talking.
Regardless, he stays in the crowds of people, avoiding police or any security-like figures. Eventually, a familiar sign shows up in the distance. The Ambrose Theater.
"Oh…Dot ConneXion…" He mumbles to himself. It seems to be closed, probably only in operation at night. He curiously tests the door, finding it unlocked. Before he can slip inside someone taps him on the shoulder. He turns quickly, seeing a police officer standing behind him. He tries not to look nervous, clearing his throat, "Yeah, officer?"
This officer seems to find Jay's poorly hidden nerves amusing, giving him a friendly smile, "Calm down, kid. You aren't in trouble. We are testing something out."
"Is it a delicious new recipe for the bake sale?" Jay jokes, trying to keep it innocent.
"No…" the officer chuckles light-heartedly, making Jay relax a bit more, "Just try this on real quick, it's a security measure, little earpieces to sound when there is danger nearby."
He holds out a small white earpiece, Jay takes it, a part of him interested in the idea. However, most of him knew that dangers probably included psychics.
Despite this he takes the earpiece, cautiously placing it in, "What am I testing?"
The officer is looking at a small sensor looking object, "Do you hear anything?"
He could, there is a high pitched wailing in the device; it sounds like a malfunction of some kind. He looks at the officer, shrugging, "Nope." He takes it out, handing it back to him, "I hope it works out, though."
The officer nods almost sympathetically, "Me too."
They go their separate ways, Jay entering the club. It is empty except for the sound of a mixing board. He follows it, stopping in the main factory-like room that he saw briefly before. There are only a couple people around looking like employees. One looks up at here, "Hey."
"The door was unlocked…" Jay finds himself saying.
The employee is a pretty young woman, smirking at him, "Yeah. Didn't you read the sign? Our last DJ bailed on us. You up for the job?"
~WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW~
Aiden picks up his swords without touching them, the objects floating toward him as he exits his room. His pace is rigidly quick as thunder bellows outside the Bunker.
"I don't know why you are so antsy, he's been gone a couple hours," Damien says, although his tone is amused, as if he knew exactly why Aiden is acting the way he is but not revealing it. He's playing with a silvery object, plucking a string of leather from the table he has made a home on, "I'm sure the kid is fine."
"I have a bad feeling…" Aiden mumbles, not even caring about the tone, "And we didn't leave on good terms. I don't need him running off."
Clara is unnaturally quiet. She has been around Aiden for a couple of days, watching interaction between him and Jay with an odd attention. However, she speaks now, sounding like she really doesn't want to, "Please don't make me say it, Aiden."
"Say what?" The Fox is barely listening at this point.
"She's trying to say that I'm right," Damien assists with a smirk, "He'll come back."
"There is a chance he won't," Aiden retaliates blankly, thinking about the younger psychic with a startling amount of worry. Jay spoke about Lena, his niece. He wanted to break at least one part of him for speaking of her, but he knew he didn't mean it. Jay is someone who insults without thinking, even if it be against him. He couldn't be angry at him.
"There is no stopping you then…" Clara sighs, "I don't like this, Aiden…"
"Then you have the same feeling I have, I'm going," He says, heading up the stairs, "It won't take me long."
"Don't get killed, that will be disappointing," Damien says passively just as Aiden leaves.
Aiden wastes no time riding out into the city on his bike, thunder roaring ominously in the darkening sky. On his way he questions where Jay could possibly be.
"Someplace familiar…" He thinks aloud, "Someplace he's been before."
He stops the bike, turning around and back down the street, ignoring angry drivers as he heads straight toward Dot ConneXion. He stops at a light, his hands shaking as he floats there. He hears a sudden and shrill scream, his head darting to the sidewalk.
A woman is collapsed on her knees, her hands on her head. She shakily rips something from her ear, throwing it at the officer before stumbling up and down the street.
Aiden watches several officers begin the pursuit after her. He turns back, remembering seeing a couple other cops with earpieces. The woman screaming…she had an Aura.
"That's bad fucking news…" Aiden mutters. He kicks up, riding around the cars across the red light, "I need to find Jay."