First, HUZZAH, fast upload! I was on a roll XD.
Second, for those curious, which is probably…like…a two of you...I listen to a lot of music when I write. I actually, legit, can't write without some kind of music playing insanely loud in my eardrums. So from this chapter onward I will quote some awesome music I listen to whilst writing these things. As well as who I think about because DAMMIT I LIKE AUTHOR'S NOTES. Ready? GO.
You've got me out of control, I feel my stomach on a roll, I need my memory back…
You've got me stumbling fast, let's make that nighttime last, I wanna dance like that…
Ooo I wanna dance like that!
-I Need My Memory Back-The Glitch Mob
(Inspiration: Defalt)
Aiden is halfway successful in falling asleep. That is the closest he's ever been. When his eyes snap open there is a part of him that feels far too proud of that accomplishment. The only difference with this and any other middle-of-the-night is that he is sitting in the hallway of a club, and there is no sunrise for him to stare at to pass the time. However, he did hear something: a quiet scratching beat.
He looks forward, noticing Jay's room opened and slowly stands. He starts to move down that hall, touching the door Wick was in. He feels the sleepy vibration of his Aura on the other side, then continues toward the main room.
Jay's Aura is present to his senses before Aiden even fully enters. There is blatant electricity to it, almost painfully so. He sees the young psychic close by, standing at the balcony. Headphones practically glued to his head, along with that luminescent mask he was holding before. It shines different shades of blue in the dim lighting. His hands move just above the music controls, the knobs and buttons moving by themselves to his whim.
Aiden finishes staring, walking forward, speaking honestly, "The mask fits you."
Jay stops fiddling with the devices in front of him, pulling the mask down along with the headphones. Aiden could hear the music in them as if they were stereos before it is shut off. How loud is he even listening to that?
He sees Jay smile tiredly and shrugs, "I told Chelsea it was poetic justice."
Aiden walks closer to him, pulling the mask off, inspecting it, "Lies," He says, holding up the object, "This is clearly a rat mask."
"Yeah, and?" Jay asks. Aiden raises his eyebrow, in which Jay scowls. It was pretty adorable, like a bratty kid not getting a cookie. He takes the mask from him, "Oh please, give me this. Rats are at least a little scarier than fucking mice."
"Well you aren't the only one that got an animal nickname." Aiden reasons, but by Jay's expression he not having any of it.
"You got a cool animal though! Foxes are clever and great hunters. Mice are…" Jay trails off, not finding good adjectives.
"Cute, harmless and crawl where they are not supposed to," Aiden offers, "As oppose to rats, which are ugly, annoying as fuck and crawl where they are not supposed to."
Jay chuckles quietly, setting the mask down and looking at Aiden with a sly grin, "So are you calling me cute?"
"Well," Aiden leans against a stereo, growing increasingly more comfortable, "You are cute-ish, more like 'frustrating' than 'annoying', and you go places you're not supposed to. So you're more of a rat-mouse hybrid. I should really call for a new species discovery."
The younger smiles, then laughs, looking away at his music, then back at Aiden with bright eyes, "When did you get so lively?"
It is a good question, one that Aiden can't quite answer. The only time he remembers being like this is before Lena died, which seems so very long ago now. Humor was one of the first things to be eradicated along with that dock, broken by anger and revenge, overshadowed by purpose. He usually only had the occasional need to joke, be it very dry and lacking light. Like kissing Jay, he felt some odd complacency with his old self when talking to him as well. He shouldn't be OK with this, having one person change his entire perspective, but then again, he really, really didn't care.
As Aiden thinks, Jay has put his headphones back, bobbing his head to the beat Aiden could clearly hear. When he sees his curious look, the younger psychic takes them off, offering them, "Want to listen?"
"I can hear it without putting them on," Aiden says, hearing the light, dancing notes, nimble in chorus and rhythm, "How long have you been making it?"
"Well…" Jay waves a hand, the music fading from the headset as a dial turns on one of the machines, "Most of the night…I couldn't sleep."
"Why not?"
Jay shrugs as his common response, turning to play with the many buttons again, "I had a dream that I was here, on this balcony…but the club looked a lot different like…like it was back before the Revolution. I was wearing that mask…some dumb jacket thing…the place was really crowded."
"And you couldn't sleep to that?" Aiden asks, "That's better than all the dreams I have."
"Well that's what I thought. But then you came in to the club, down there," He points generally where Aiden's dream self would be wandering, "You kept staring down at some glowing thing…you kept getting more and more irritated the longer you stared at it. I was watching you. I stole something from you."
Aiden ponders this, looking down at the dance floor, "Sounds accurate. If someone stole something from me I would want to get it back."
"Even if it was me?"
"Well, maybe you were a different person in that dream."
"My dream-me was totally laughing his ass off, though," Jay chuckles a bit, looking at Aiden, "I don't know why I woke up…but I couldn't fall asleep after that. So I came here."
"Dreams are strange," Aiden says, "They can be truthful or just…nonsense." He waits for Jay to ask what dreams he has had, but the question never comes. The words seem to form on the younger psychic's lips, but they never form completely. He must have chosen not to. Is it that he noticed Aiden never sleeps? Whatever it is, he knew Aiden wouldn't answer it well. This makes him smirk slightly.
There is a couple seconds of silence, Jay speaking again, "Being default is bad, right?"
Aiden raises an eyebrow, "Default? I suppose. Default just means you are the basic product. Like…a default set of notes that you always use when playing music. It's always there, but just the foundation of something better that can be used or created."
"Dream-me had a jacket that said 'Default' on it. Why would he want to be basic?"
"It could be a nickname."
"It was spelled wrong too," Jay decides to add, "D-e-f-a-l-t."
Aiden looks up at the ceiling, "This is the most important thing to care about right now?"
"Yeah! I'm really concerned for dream-me and his bad spelling habits. And that he was laughing at you. I wanted to punch him," He suddenly smirks, "…or at least know why he was laughing so I could laugh at you too."
Aiden can't help but smile at this, letting himself laugh very simply before his dominant nature gets the better of him, "Maybe we should leave. I want to get back to the bunker before the police are fully awake."
He sees Jay's face fall drastically, picking up the headset again, "Listen to this, please? It's better when you actually have them in."
Aiden watches his pleading look, almost like asking a favor before being dragged off again. The Fox frowns, remembering what Leon said. Jay needs more freedom if he's ever going to understand anything. Then again, Jay understood a lot more than Aiden first anticipated. Startlingly so. Regardless, they needed to get back. He didn't like Clara and, he supposes Damien, not knowing what is going on.
He takes the headset, holding one of the speakers against his ear. Jay waves his hand again, switching the music back on.
In about five seconds Aiden throws the headset across the balcony, swearing as the painful frequency pounds at his head. He sees Jay's eyes wide, his hands up as if being held up at gunpoint, "What? What happened? Was it really that bad?"
Aiden curses again, his focus beginning to return as he looks at him, "J-Jay…is that how loud you listen to it?"
"Well…yeah, I actually go a bit louder actually," He mutters, "I didn't think psychics had sensitive ears like humans do—"
"Are you trying to kill yourself?" Aiden interrupts, shaking away the last bit of shock.
"Kill myself? It's just music!" Jay laughs a little, clearly not understanding, "I'm sorry if it was too loud…"
Aiden tries to process his casual behavior. The music is loud enough to scream through Aiden's thoughts, and Jay says he listens to it louder? He stares at the younger psychic seriously, "Jay…psychics can't listen to high frequencies of sound. It messes with their power. It's a weakness. Didn't you see those police with the white earbuds? That's why I came to get you. If you stick one of those in they will know what you are."
Jay stares, slowly raises an eyebrow, "You mean those dumb danger-tracker things? I thought mine was broken or something. All I heard was this screeching sound."
The Fox stares, his mind calculating, thinking of the woman chased by police, of Damien testing his invention on him. Jay isn't effected. He doesn't feel it.
He's immune.
Both psychics turn as they hear the doors, that are supposed to be locked from what Aiden remembers, bang open. Instinctively he grabs Jay's shirt, dragging them both down behind the mass of sound machines. Aiden hears several uniform footsteps, a man's voice prominent.
"This is the place…there are psychics here, there has to be."
"Mr. Marcowicz, are you sure?"
"You said this building wasn't checked. And I remember this place. My son went here."
Aiden hears Jay suck in a breath, his crystalline eyes wider than before, a distant, childish fear returning to him as he whispers, "Holy shit…'
The Fox slowly glances over the balcony. He sees Jay's father standing in the middle of the dance floor, several armored police amongst him. He drops back down, mumbling, "Yeah. That's a good way to describe it."
"You know, you could have just waited till we opened."
Aiden glances over, seeing Leon at the foot of the stairs, a hand in his pocket, clothes that seem to just be thrown on. He does not lay an eye on the two other psychics as he watches the police.
"Why wasn't this place properly checked?" Jay's father demands in a voice Aiden could describe as powerfully bitter.
"The owner is a psychic, sir, but he has caused no trouble for years and…ah…he's-" He mumbles the last part, but Aiden hears it as 'a victim of those radical police'.
"I've never caused trouble, Mr…" Leon begins.
"Peter Marcowicz," The father speaks blankly.
"Alright, well can I please ask why you broke in? I'm going to have to pay for the doors you probably broke."
"You're known for harboring psychics."
"Yeah. I am," Leon says with a shrug, "So?"
"That's illegal."
"As of yesterday by impromptu marshal law," Leon speaks, his jaw set, venom in his tone, "My deepest apologies if I didn't want to kick out the one psychic I have with me in the pouring rain. I've never harbored your rouge psychics that you so violently despise."
It is interesting how eloquent Leon got when talking to cops, Aiden thinks. It is rather amusing.
"I don't mean the meek psychics that come through here for music," Peter says slowly, "You harbor the person known as The Fox."
~WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW~
Jay feels like his world is collapsing in on itself. His father is about ten feet from him, and he knows Aiden is here.
"I'm sorry to say I don't allow foxes at my club, sir," Leon sighs, stretching his arms behind his head, his metallic limb shining in the dim light, "It's bad for business."
"Then would you mind if I tested something out?"
Jay sees Leon's jaw tighten, but very slightly. He didn't know how he could be so calm, like Aiden, who watches just as blank.
Aiden looks at him, taking the mask he left on the floor and handing it to him, "Put this on," He whispers, barely audible. Jay nods, taking it from his hands just as a high-pitched shrill floods the room.
The younger psychic watches Aiden as he swears, loud and vivid, plugging his ears as the alarm becomes more intense. Jay almost couldn't stand it, he has never seen Aiden in pain, never seen him so curled up in physical weakness. He is supposed to be feeling this. According to Aiden's expression earlier, about the high frequencies. But he didn't.
He didn't feel a thing.
He hears some of the armed guards making their way up the stairs. He sees one struggling with Leon, who is collapsed at the top in similar anguish as Aiden.
"Jay," He hears Aiden say through his teeth, "Mask…now."
He takes little time to hesitate, pulling it back on and taking a deep breath before slowly standing, his hands up as the police train in on them. The alarm shuts off as one cop looks to Jay, "Who is this?"
Jay didn't know how to answer. Obviously he had to pretend, he is just a human, and he didn't have anything to do with it. He has to lie, lie like he usual did so naturally with his father. Now, now however he is stricken with nothing but angry bitterness. He wants to fight them, he wants to break them for what they did.
So why does he stay silent?
"He's human, that's all I got," One cops mutters as he trains his gun on Aiden, "Just bring him down with this one."
The first looks to Jay, gesturing to the stairs, "Nice and easy…"
Jay slowly nods, but inside he feels deep tension. His father is down the stairs. His father who lost his wife, who could very easily pull off his mask and take him away from everything he wants and now loves.
But, he doesn't have time to hesitate. He drops his arms slowly, following the cop down to the dance floor. His father looks toward them, Jay could feel his heart beating faster watching him tinted blue from the mask. The eye contact is brief as he turns toward Leon, dragged down by another cop.
"I don't like being lied to," He says tightly, "Now you just made it difficult."
"Fuck you," Leon spits, though the words are not angry, almost casual, amused by his situation, "I really hope you aren't blaming me. I'm not exactly on good terms with your little army you built up over the years."
"You're…unfortunate circumstance doesn't matter to me," Peter says, "Lying out of spite. Killing people who want to protect civilians—"
"I got fucking ambushed," Leon suddenly snaps, jolting at the grip of the cop, writhing back as if utterly sore again, "You're not protecting anyone. You're hunting down people that are different because you are afraid."
"I'm not afraid," Peter speaks, completely steady, "And you're making it worse."
Jay frowns, the anger from before and from Leon he could feel is even brighter. Usually, from his experience, when psychics are angry, things move, things get out of control. However, everything is still. The frequency weakened them.
But not him. He wasn't effected. He could do something. But he has to wait for the right moment, he needs to think.
"Does it matter what I say? Are you going the cut the rest of me up now?" Leon scoffs, "It didn't end so well the last time but hey, you could always try again—"
"Leon."
Jay feels his stomach twist at the voice. It is cold, deadly even in weakness. He looks over, seeing Aiden, flanked by two police, his eyes seem even more surreally bright than before, the green shining like some brilliant beacon. There is nothing soft about him, nothing that Jay saw in the alley or even just a couple minutes ago. He looks like a completely different person. The person he saw on the dock. The one that kills.
Aiden finishes what he began, "It's fine. Don't make it worse."
He sees Leon strangely obedient, but there is something that looks like laughter in the back of his eyes. Jay could say he feels the same way distantly.
Something tells him this will get interesting way too fast.
Jay's father looks to Aiden, his expression changing just slightly. He speaks with the same amount of steel, "I thought it would be a bit harder to take you down."
Aiden's face is starkly bored, stoic, "You're not the first man who's said that to me."
As Leon smirks, Jay laughs, laughs straight and short. He couldn't help himself. He sees his father whip around, glaring with an expression Jay has seen a lot over the years.
"Who is this?" He demands the cop next to Jay. He looks flustered, probably by Aiden's comment.
"We don't know. He was up by the Fox, but he's human. Wasn't effected by the frequency." The cop explains.
"He's the DJ," Leon speaks as if it were obvious, "You're in a club, aren't you?"
Peter moves closer to Jay, raising an eyebrow, "Your name?"
Jay stares, looking over at Aiden who is watching him with barely visible eyes. He can't speak for him. He needs to work on the fly. He looks up at his father, eyes he's lied to so often before "Default."
He watches him sneer, "You're actual name."
"Default. You've got a problem with that?" Jay challenges, a growing strength in him, a strength built on rebellion and fire.
"Yes. Because that's not a real name. That's a concept."
"Well bitchiness is just a concept too but you seem to be fluent in it."
"Why are you wearing a mask?" His father growls, his anger clear in the question. The simple question just because of the lack of comeback. Jay's been through this song and dance before. And he feels the great and desperate need to dance even better.
"It's a show thing," He speaks, "And it's less wear on the eyes up there. Strobe lights aren't used much these days but they are killer."
"Take it off."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Fuck you, that's why."
"Leave him alone, Marcowicz. He gets feisty if you talk to him for too long," Leon says, rolls his shoulders only to be stopped by the cop, "It's annoying as shit sometimes."
"I hate to have employees so childish," Peter says slowly, stepping away.
"He gets the job done," Leon shrugs, "Are you going to leave my club or what?"
Peter ignores him yet again, turning back to Aiden. There is a viciousness in his eyes as he speaks, "You took my son."
Aiden stares, "I did now? I'm sorry, but your little frequency burst is making my head hurt. Messes with my memory."
"You carried of a boy from a protest five weeks ago," Peter accuses harshly, stepping closer, "It was my son. You have him. Where is he?"
The Fox looks up at the ceiling, as if thinking about something, summoning thought, "Ah…right. That one. Jay, right?"
He hears his father suck in a breath, "Yes. Where is he? What have you done to him?"
Jay thought that he should feel some sense of urgency in his father's plea. But, it isn't much of a plea. It is a demand. A means to an end. He felt no love in his father's voice, no desperate want to see his son again. He knew this as true. His father wanted to get his son back to say he got his son back. Nothing else. At least, not from what he hears.
Aiden watches Peter, his tone steadfast, "He's fine. He's safe. I never hurt him. Honestly…he's much happier now."
His father is positively shocked. He stares, unbelieving, "What? And you say you are familiar with happiness?"
"I'm familiar with Jay." Aiden says. Then smiles. It's a twisted thing, terrifying. To Jay though, it was absolutely, chaotically attractive.
Peter stares, "What do you mean by that?"
"Does it matter?" Aiden scoffs, "If you think he wants to go back to you, you would be wrong. Tell me…do you want him back because you love him? Or is it just to say you got him back?"
"I want him back because it means he won't be with you," Jay's father growls, "You are nothing but a bad influence on him."
"Oh, I see," Aiden's voice is vehement, like burning acid, "I'm the bad influence showing him how to use his gift, how to make him stronger and show him something beyond the four fucking walls of a room."
"It was all I could do!" Peter shouts suddenly, "What the fuck was I supposed to do? I work with the biggest damned researching and police force for you freaks and to have my own son be like you? No…no I couldn't do it. I wouldn't deal with it."
"So you locked him away. You didn't want anyone to know. You couldn't face it. Well," Aiden narrows his eyes, "Look where that got you."
Jay watches his father freeze, his muscles stiff with anger. With one, fluent motion, he pulls a pistol from his belt, shooting cleanly through Aiden's leg.
The shot send rippling shock through Jay as Aiden curses, lagging against the grip of the cops as his leg blossoms red. Jay sucks in a breath, speaking without thought, ripping from the officer's grip, "Aiden!"
All eyes turn to him, he stares back at them; all tinted luminescent blue.
Peter gestures to the officers still idle, "Deal with him," He looks back at Aiden, eyes fiery, "Funny how weak you are without powers. And people think you are bulletproof." He touches the gun to Aiden's temple, the latter eyeing him, emotionless. Jay feels an officer grab his arm as he watches the action.
Two seconds later the officer is on the other side of the room.
The rest of the occupants of the room watch the body fly at break-neck speed, slamming into the wall. The cop moans, still moving. They turn back to Jay, his hands in fists, the fire bright and out of control. His anger at the world, at his father.
It is all breaking lose.
Peter drops his arm, staring, wide-eyed, "You're one of them…"
Jay steps back, wishing with pure, livid intensity that his father could see the lightning in his eyes. He lifts his hand, feeling the energy of the machines above them. He flips the stereo on with a simple flick of the wrist, a loud beat flooding the room.
He speaks with perfect confidence, "I'm not getting paid enough for this, Mr. Marcowicz. I'm only here to make people dance." He smiles, maliciously happy as the beat intensifies, "Let's see how well your party can move."
~WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW~
A ragged pain rips through Aiden's leg as he's dropped on the floor, the entire group, save Peter, converging on Jay. The psychic flips around, an intense shot of worry and frustrated anger rising from not being able to do a single thing, the frequencies still scrabbling his power. He hears the music that Jay had turned on, bright and energetic, breathlessly fast.
And apparently so was Jay, as he darts in between men and up the stairs, his mask flashing in the lights. He stops at the DJ set up, a spare stereo flying into one of the officers as he climbs about the instruments. He catapults off, Aiden sucking in a breath as he sees him grab onto the lights above.
"You know you are not getting a raise for this, Default!" Leon shouts over the music as Jay crouches on the lights.
"Fuck you, I'm saving your lives!" Jay shouts back, Aiden seeing his eyes close as the tables and chairs about them fly with vicious speed at the enemies.
Aiden feels arms around him, seeing Leon drag him across the room to the wall, leaning him against is as they watch the chaos.
Jay is moving just slower than a flash of lightning as he drops off the rafters onto one of the cops. Yet he tries to grab a man's gun but is overpowered. He quickly squirms out of the fray, using his powers as strength, ripping a gun from one man's hands, having it shoot another in the shoulder.
Jay doesn't even know how to use a gun. He simply knows what one looks like when it shoots. He imagines it, and it happens.
"That kid is something else…" Leon mumbles, "Something fierce."
"Something valuable," Aiden says, feeling a sense of remembrance. Jay is angry. He could feel the bitterness in him, the thorn-covered pain and contempt over years of sheltered control. Bottled up inside, it is bound to burst.
Jay just saw him get shot in the leg. That was his trigger.
"He really didn't like you getting hurt," Leon says, rubbing his temples, "Fuck…my head."
The two hear the song fade into silence, looking up at the chaos that had ensued, Jay standing among unconscious bodies, leaning heavily against the trashed bar. Aiden struggles to get up, wanting desperately to make sure he's alright. Leon, however, keeps him still, "Your leg—"
Aiden sees Peter inching toward Jay, pistol in hand. He could see Jay's breath is heavy, oblivious to the movement. The older psychic grabs a bar stool, standing, forcing his power back to the surface through the frequency-driven delusion. One of his swords flies from his coat, flying across to the bar and training on Peter.
The father holds up his hands, Jay turning at the sound of the sword. Peter sneers, "I should have expected something like this, a psychic ridden club with a psychic DJ."
"Default, are you alright?" Aiden calls, keeping his identity concealed within that mask.
Jay takes a moment to answer, his voice strained, "Other that feeling like I ran a marathon, I'm fine…"
"That took a lot of energy," Leon says, taking Aiden's arm and helping him closer as Aiden keeps the sword afloat.
"A bit more than I wanted…" Jay sighs, looking back at his father, "Well this is a bit awkward, isn't it?" there is a condescension in his voice that can only come from a resenting son. Aiden takes grip of the bar when he reaches it, close to Jay but not giving any idea of a closer relationship as he turns his attention to Peter.
"Now, answer this question," He says, "Who told you about our weakness?"
Peter scoffs, laughing, "You can just bring this sword down through me. I'm not saying anything. This city doesn't need more chaos."
He is serious, and Aiden knew this. He has to try a bit harder, but a part of him hesitates in pursuing his usual methods on Jay's father. He knows Jay won't care, knows that whatever he did he would forgive him. Yet, he still hesitates.
"Got a difficult mind, Fox?"
Aiden looks up toward the balcony, a familiar purple-haired figure leaning on the railing. His grin makes the Fox want to aim a sword at him as well.
"Where the Hell have you been?" Aiden asks accusingly.
"Well that fucking alarm you could say woke me up," He explains, stretching as he moves down the stairs, "Though I saw all the nonsense here and didn't find it to my liking. I was gonna help the DJ, but he seemed to handle it himself pretty effectively."
Nothing about this young man made Aiden trust him, but he knew Jay does, who watches with a slightly sleepy head. His breathing is soft and rhythmic in Aiden's hearing.
Peter watches Wick, his eyes narrow, calculating. Aiden knows well enough the Will Benders could cause Amnesia, as to why Peter shows little remembrance of the face of his wife's killer. He also knows that he can counter-act it, disrupt the power, and let the man see the murderer. He couldn't get himself to, though, as amusing as it would be. There is more important information that he needed.
"We need to know who sold out our weakness," Leon states, "Can you do that?"
Wick feigns offense, his grin relentless, "Yeah, I can do that," He turns to Peter, "Alright, just a name, mate. Not that hard."
Peter doesn't speak, but watches Wick with wide eyes. It is a common tactic for humans aware of Will Benders not to speak. If they don't speak, then they won't have to reveal anything. Aiden scowls slightly, very certain that this young Bender is far beyond that idea.
The purple-haired psychic sighs, his hand up now, making a gentle, caressing motion, as if trying to guide the words out like a lost dog. "A name. I can see it in your thoughts, mate. He said a bloody name."
Peter's expression changes, dropping his gun and holding his head, stumbling against the wall, cursing vividly. Aiden moves his sword away, watching.
"S-STOP—" Peter shouts, sliding down the wall, "Please!"
Wick steps closer, "Then give me the name, mate. It isn't that hard."
Peter wraiths back gripping his head. Aiden can only imagine what pain he is experiencing. He could care less, yet he looks at Jay, his face along with his feeling hidden under the mask. Yet, Aiden feels a hand curl around his, being gripped tight.
Aiden speaks up, "Wick, stop. He's not going to say it."
"I don't lose, Fox," Wick responds, eyeing him with bright grey eyes, then back, "I'm almost there."
He hears Peter scream, loud in the acoustic room. Aiden twitches as Jay squeezes his hand, cutting into his skin.
"Wick," Jay suddenly shouts, making the purple-haired psychic look over, "Stop…he won't say it."
The Will Bender stares, lifting his hand, and swiping it down, as if to stop a band. Peter falls silent, gasping over and over.
"I didn't think everyone would be so fucking sensitive. He tried to kill you all," Wick says blankly, "Although…didn't think he'd be this tough—"
"Iraq…"
The psychics look to the struggling Peter, his eyes strained, his skin pale, "He told me…his name was Iraq."
~WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW~
I should be enjoying this Jay thinks to himself as his father twitches in deep mental pain. The sight made him take Aiden's hand, as if that is always what he did. There is drips of blood on his fingers from when he had cut him with his nails. He didn't know if it is just because he is incredibly tired from the fight that he barely remembers. Or if he really did care about his father. Then again, he didn't think he could watch the most despicable man in the world be tortured like that. It is all too surreal, and his imagination too realistic in imagining what Wick could be doing to his father's head.
But it is over now, he said a name. Iraq.
"I've heard it before," Leon speaks, "He's part of the Club."
"Of course he is," Aiden scoffs, unaffected by the past event as Jay assumed he would be, "But why would he do that? Especially being part of that business."
"Could be revenge," Wick offers, looking over at them, "Maybe he hates where he is. Although it really doesn't matter, does it?"
"No," Leon agrees, "He's your man. Now…if you don't mind, I have to make up an alibi before more police get here."
Jay looks around the trashed club, wondering what kind of alibi you can get from this. He sees Aiden reach into his pocket, taking out a ridiculous stack of money, placing it in Leon's hand, "Blame it on me. Make up some dumb story about the Fox robbing you, the press will have a field day."
Leon smirks, closing his fingers around the money, "Will do, Pearce. Now," he reaches over the bar, producing a first aid kit and shoving it at him, "please get the fuck out of my club."
"Right," Aiden takes Jay's shoulder, "We need to go."
"Wait…" Jay looks at Leon, "So am I fired or something?"
The man grins, throwing his hands up, chuckling, "Why don't you come back when things are less hectic."
The invitation is good enough. He knows Aiden wants to leave. He also had a bleeding leg that no one seems to be concerned about.
"I should get out of here too then," Wick walks to the door, stopping for a moment, "Oh…there was another thing…Do you know Damien Brenks?"
Aiden stares, "Yes…why?"
"Because I got pinned in an alley a night ago with some assholes trying to find the guy who sold out the weakness. And they weren't gonna leave without an answer…"
Jay frowns as Aiden does.
"And Damien was the only guy I knew who made an invention for that weakness—"
"You told them—"
"I said it might be him!" Wick grumbles, "Calm down. There were only a few of them. Not anything big."
Jay could feel Aiden repressing his irritation. He slips his hand on Jay's arm, pulling him to a back door, "We're leaving. Now."
"Can I remind you that your leg is bleeding?" Jay says quickly as he's pulled out into the open air. The fresh, early morning chill awakes Jay's senses just before Aiden collapses on the alley wall. Jay's heart skips, kneeling next to him.
Aiden groans, looking at him, "You can take the mask off now, you know."
Jay touches the object, forgetting it was on his face. He rips it off, running a hand through his dark hair, "I passed out when I got shot in the ankle."
"Well, I've been shot way more times than you," He says, handing him the first aid kit, "You passed out from the shock."
"R-right," Jay takes the kit, rolling up Aiden's pant leg, "I don't exactly know how to stich things like you either."
"Just listen to what I tell you," Aiden says calmly, beginning to give him instructions. Jay listens, doing as he says, forcing his hands not to shake. He can feel Aiden's eyes on him as he starts wrapping bandages around the mended wound, "You did very well back there."
Jay looks up, "I…don't really know what happened. I was just…angry."
The older psychic laughs shortly, "That was pretty obvious," He expression grows more serious, "But you could do with more strength. You can't rely on your powers."
"Well…apparently that frequency doesn't affect me—"
"Let's keep that a secret," Aiden frowns, "That's something we don't need anyone to know. The less they know about you the better." He slowly stands as Jay moves his hands away.
Jay moves up as well, nodding, "Ok…what about Damien and Clara?"
Aiden's eyes flash, "Fuck…those two…" He moves out into the street, Jay close behind him.
The older psychic looks at him as they hurry down street, "Jay,"
"Yeah?"
"There is more I don't want you to talk about."
Jay looks to him, knowing exactly what he means, the mere thought heating his chilled skin. He nods quietly.
"And Jay…" The younger psychic sees Aiden stop at a bike, "Don't hate me."
Jay smiles, "I don't. Far from it."
He moves forward as Aiden gets on the bike, sitting behind him. He wraps his arms around him, grinning.
"You're bring conspicuous."
"I know."
"Stop it," Aiden can't hide the slight amusement in his voice as he commands the bike to come to life, roaring down the street.
"Just try and keep your eyes on the road," Jay says slyly, "I'll keep it a secret."