Translator

Translator

The Adept Slayer was coming.

That's what they said. Gunvolt didn't believe it. Copen Kamizono, here? Some imposter using his name, more like. What the hell kind of business would the real one have here, of all places? Here, an hidden facility somewhere in a vague forest surrounded by mountain ranges where a group of stubborn Sumeragi scientists and guards held their secret projects, with adepts as their lab rats…

Lab rats Huh. More like lab rat, singular. Gunvolt was the only one left now — his adept cell-mates had all died within the first year, and a couple other prisoners who had also been there, both before and after them, had also withered away into nothing. Gunvolt had been here for, by his estimation, a bit over three and a half years now, since he knew he'd been captured in January 2X75 and by now it was… what, August 2X78? September? How many full moons had he failed to see this far?

The point was that he was alone with virtually no hope of escape. He'd tried, of course, repeatedly, but he'd been unsuccessful and by the time the first six months were out his strength had waned too much to do anything other than just survive. The lightning in his body drained by his prison suit.

But survive he did. Bitterly wondering what he was even thinking when he surrendered himself to Sumeragi. He wasn't. He was desperate after all, having harmed a dear friend of his alongside causing a whole EMP shutdown on the neighborhood when his septima turned berserk.

To prevent the harm of more people, he came to Sumeragi, hoping they could figure out what is wrong with him, instead the organization was happy to just seal him away in a vaccuum and drain the constantly rising surpluss of energy his out of controll septima was creating. Making him not only a living battery for them, as was the point of Project Gunvolt, but also a prisoner and subject.

And now, apparently, the Adept Slayer was coming. With Sumeragi's approval of all things.

That was the new threat being spat at him, one more of scores, or hundreds, as the guards tried to break his will for no reason. Any information he could or would have given them at this point would be horribly outdated, but it was never about information or cooperation - just breaking him now that he's harmless in their hands. Make him pay for his past actions (without risking losing their last subject, of course). If there was anything Gunvolt enjoyed in this godforsaken place, it was getting a rise out of his captors, even if it always resulted in another beating or another—

Well, at the very least when he pissed them off it was proof that Gunvolt was still alive and still himself. True, he was a mere shadow of what he once was, the world's strongest adept that fought for what he believed was right, now a nobody faded into obscurity, and sometimes he did slip into some sort of temporary docile state where he was silent and uncomprehending of the horrors around him, but… they didn't break him. Nobody could. A shell of himself was still himself.

"I've met the Adept Slayer before," Gunvolt told them, with as much dismissive acerbity in his voice as he had the energy for.

"Oh?" said the Sumeragi guard in a very bored tone, "and what did he do to you?"

"You ought to ask what I did to him."

Killed him kind of by accident only to kick his anthem enhanced butt once he revived, that was. Of course, that would be hard to explain to anyone, so that would be a detail left out if they bothered to ask… just like the detail where the Adept Slayer hadn't interrogated him so much as he threw whatever weapons he had his way while lecturing for 45 minutes about the roles of adepts in society or something about his father and legacy. Only impressive thing about that was his lung capacity.

That and he was ridicouisly strong and smart for a fourteen year old. A bonafide gadgeteer genuis.

The guard rolled his eyes. "It was probably just some faker using his name and reputation for his own ends." and wow, if that isn't suspicouis. Talking about the guy as if he's your favorite athlete.

Gunvolt scoffed. It kind of hurt his throat. "And what makes you think the 'Adept Slayer' that's supposed to be coming here is the real one?"

"Oh, we just know."

Fuck him. That wasn't an answer.

Gunvolt was strung up from a hook on the ceiling (his cell used to be the backroom of a butcher's, near as he could figure) by his wrists. Dimly he remembered his time at Quill and how one of his fellow members had lost two limbs while being held prisoner, how they'd amputated his arm and his leg actually to keep him alive just a little longer, because blood flow had been cut off to them for too long and gangrene was setting in after the person was tied up too tight and left to just rot.

There wasn't much he could do here besides restlessly flex his fingers every so often – or at least do his best to – and hope that the same wouldn't happen to him. He needed his hands.

There was talking outside.

A man stepped into Gunvolt's cell. Gunvolt recognized him, mostly because of the white armor and the large, red boots.

Copen.

He looked older – of course he did, it had been almost four years since Gunvolt had last seen him — his light white hair had gained reddish tints at the end of each hair and he had it grown longer and spikier than usual, a sort of burn wound scar in the shape of an arrow was seared into his left cheek and went all the way to his chin only to dissapear behind his armor, he dressed a little differently (he had a big red cape now), but… well, there was no question about who he was.

And judging by the way Copen was looking at him, his eyes narrowed slightly, he was thinking the same thing.

"You're in luck," he said, turning slightly to the Sumeragi soldier next to him, but not taking his eyes off of Gunvolt, "I happen to know this man."

"What?" said the guard Gunvolt had been talking to earlier. "Have you interrogated him before?"

"Oh, yes. After a fashion, anyway."

Gunvolt glared at him, and Copen raised an eyebrow slightly, then finally pulled his gaze away to talk to the soldiers more directly. "Give me a few hours with him alone. I'll break him for you. He won't bother you anymore by the time I'm done with him."

The soldiers quickly agreed and left, closing the heavy door behind them with a slam. Then there was a very long silence as Copen and Gunvolt sized each other up.

"Have you been bound like this for long?" Copen said eventually, in Chinese, French, Italian and finally switching over to English (Each language none of the guards happened to speak).

"I can't feel my hands anymore, does that tell you anything?" Gunvolt said sarcastically in English.

Copen's mouth twitched in what could have been amusement or disgust. "That sharp tongue – you're Gunvolt alright." He took Gunvolt's jaw between his forefingers and thumb, and tilted his head slightly, scrutinizing him. Gunvolt watched him very closely in turn, distrusting. "Not that I needed any confirmation of who you are. I could never forget your face. Even with those bags under your eyes, you still look almost exactly like the brat I fought three and a half years ago."

Gunvolt's lips pulled back in a snarl. Copen chuckled, taking half a step back and dropping his hand.

"Alright, let's have a little talk, Gunvolt. I didn't come here by coincidence. I've been making changes through the country under Sumeragi's employ with my services as an interrogator, scientist and adept hunter for about the last three years. I figured that wherever you were, sooner or later my inventions would surpass anything adepts could offer, which means your captors were going to get fed up with you and want the assistance of a… professional in dealing with them. Assuming they didn't outright kill you, that is. But you're in luck, as we've still got some use left for you. "

Gunvolt stared at him, with no more a trusting look than he'd had a minute ago. "'We'?" he said dryly.

"Some friends of yours. They weren't happy about hearing you'd been taken prisoner and weren't having any success finding you on their own, and I owed them a favor, anyway."

"…"

"They actually were the ones who got the search area narrowed down to S-fit for me, this past December. You'll have to send them some nice thank-you notes once you're out of here."

"Did you come to get me out of here?" Gunvolt dared to ask.

Copen made a 'so-so' hand gesture. "Not right this moment. I can't exactly just walk out of here with you on my back, nor would the guards buy any excuse I might give about needing to transport you somewhere else without the higher ups say. But soon, Gunvolt….if you pay the price for it."

"What price?"

"That depends. You have two options here." He unholstered his gun and starting drawing lines on it with a finger, almost absent-mindedly. Gunvolt tracked it with his eyes for a few moments, then looked back to Copen's face, curouis. "Option one is that I leak your location to some adept sympathizing terrorist organizations about this place. Looks like QUILL returned it's boots on the ground around here, and they'll definitely be up for smoking out some of their ex-members — but there's a very good chance you'll die in the raid, and moreover it's unlikely said raid would happen any sooner than, say, three or four days from now. And that's the optimistic schedule.

"But… if you live, they'll probably smuggle you out of Japan, where you can recover in peace and figure out what to do with yourself from there." He impassively glanced down Gunvolt's body, and Gunvolt looked away deliberately. He'd been strung up in his cell like this all day, so he couldn't really be blamed for the fact that several hours ago he had wet himself, but still… "In a hospital, from the looks of things. Septima still out of controll and a fugitive for the rest of your life."

"What's option two?"

"Option two is that from here-on you work under my employ, for unlike a certain someone I do have a solution to your problem and I have reason to believe things are about to be chaotic again. You'd be a free man by tonight, or at least before tomorrow morning, and I highly doubt you'd be treated worse there than here. You'd be taken back to my personal base and be under the care of our medical staff there. Clearly the better option, if you ask me."

Gunvolt stared at the floor. There were wide swathes of streaky orange-brown leading to the drain in the center of the room, bloodstains, some of which had been there when he got here. Probably the blood of a prevouis subject they didn't care to clean up. Some of it was his own, though. A lot of it was. The prevouis occupant would have probably shouted yes at the offer to leave this hell, but...

"I sense reluctance."

"I… don't understand." Gunvolt looks up, straight into Copen's eyes. "Why would you help me?"

"You have your use to me, and I intend to use that. Things couldn't be simpler."

Gunvolt kept staring at him. "I don't believe you," he said at last. "Last time we met. After I… you, I… we… told me that even if you were wrong, you didn't care anymore…" He trailed off. God, he hated that memory. "Your hatred, I mean. I can't work with someone who wishes for genocide."

"That was years ago," Copen said, "I am no longer that angry child, desperate for a reason to keep living. I know what I value now, and have changed my focus to defend the innocent instead."

"Hm." Pretty words, but the lack of any emotion behind any of them only makes the whole thing suspicious. What are the odds of someone so stubborn just having a change of heart like that?

There was another pause as Gunvolt said nothing. He really didn't know what to say, the man that's been a constant

"You don't have to believe me, now." Copen said. "But to give a chance...would be apreciated."

"Y… yes. Fine. Just get me out of here, as soon as possible." He really didn't know how much more he could take. Is he going to learn that pigs learned how to fly when he goes outside next?

Copen re-holstered his gun. "Glad that's settled. Of course, now we have a few hours to kill, and you know the guards aren't going to accept me just walking out of here with you left untouched…"

Gunvolt winced, still not looking back up at Copen. "It's fine. I can handle pain."

"There's more to a good interrogation than pain."

"…"

"Want me to go easy on you, Gv?"

"…don't call me that."

"Gunvolt, then." Copen took a half-step forward, too close for comfort once again. "Do you want me to go easy on you, Gunvolt?"

"Does it really matter how I answer?"

"Yes."

Gunvolt finally looked up at him, glaring again, a silent acquiescence, or perhaps even a challenge.

"Let's get started, then." He moved one gloved hand and revealed a sharp claw. "Although I suppose first I should see what they've already done to you…"

He cut off Gunvolt's black prison clothes and Gunvolt jerked his head to the side, pointedly shifting his glare to the wall. After so long he was deathly thin, his ribs jutting out violently from under his skin, which was bruised and paler than he'd ever before been in his life. He'd gained numerous scars over the past years, many of them due to his septima and abuse – he was scabbed, too, a few wounds still healing, a few still fresh enough that Copen could probably make them start bleeding again with just his finger.

"It's just been beatings for the past, hm, two and a half years, hasn't it?" Copen said, "they stopped bothering with anything more complex?"

Gunvolt kept glowering at the wall, his nose wrinkling. "No, not just beatings."

There was an inscrutable silence for a moment, then Gunvolt felt Copen's hand on his lower back, and his whole body tensed, his heartbeat quickening more than it should have.

"Don't fucking touch me," he hissed, shutting his one visible blue eye tightly.

Copen ignored him. "They found other ways to torment you, then?" he said casually, his other hand slipping down, sliding easily between his sore flesh and his too-big pants, and between the cleft of his ass as its sharp nails retracted, leaving only smooth protected fingers.

Gunvolt bit his lip, swallowing a pained whine as Copen's finger reached his raw, inflamed asshole. He tried to shift his weight away from him but Copen's arm was in the way…

"Ah," Copen said. "They certainly had their way with you, didn't they?"

"Stop," Gunvolt said hoarsely.

"Amateurs," Copen continued, his voice softer now. "This kind of hackwork is only done by those who don't understand how important it is for the interrogator to be able to concentrate. Rape will never get you answers — but, I suppose, they didn't want answers anymore, did they?"

"Stop," Gunvolt said again, "stop it. G-Get away from me."

Copen didn't seem to notice the tremor in Gunvolt's voice, and kept talking. "Of course, all things considered, when it comes to you it could be a legitimate technique. You couldn't care less about pain – but your pride…"

Gunvolt felt Copen's finger push up into him and he bit his lip harder, his body spasming in pain. Again he tried to move away – forward this time, towards Copen if that's what it took, but stopped at a sharp pain next to hip. Damn. He still had that claw out. Gunvolt would probably gut himself if he kept trying to squirm away from the burning intrusion, but…

"Oh, god," Gunvolt said, tilting his head back, gritting his teeth. "D-Don't do this, Copen. Not th-this. Anything but this…!"

"I suppose it's only fitting that such an crude manner of ways is effective on you of all people."

"Stop, stop, stop, s-stop—"

He groaned as he felt another finger. Fuck, it hurt. And his head was spinning, although somehow he doubted that had much at all to do with the pain. Maybe more related to the dehydration or exhaustion, or the fact that his rival was-

Fuck.

"You know," Copen said, "if you scream a little, it'll add authenticity. I'm sure the guards are listening in."

Gunvolt pressed his lips together, shaking his head frantically. Copen prodded him with his claw and he yelped involuntarily.

"Much better."

He briefly wondered why, if convincing the guards that Copen was really doing his job was the goal here, they couldn't just mutually fake it, but his thoughts were derailed as Copen's fingers curled against his walls, his sharp claw still scraping terribly if he moved, and Gunvolt whimpered.

"I-I-I don't think you're pretending," Gunvolt said, breathing just a little too hard, "about how you're so relucant to put on a show. L-let me go, you goddamn sadisti-FUCK!"

"I'm surprised you think that," Copen said in a tone of voice that did nothing to acknowledge the fact that he had two fingers up Gunvolt's ass and a claw pressed against his navel. "I derive no physical pleasure from doing this, and this brings no doubt about my masculinity either."

"Oh, I'm definitely not enjoying this either!" He tried to move away from Copen's hand again without thinking, and winced as he felt a trickle of blood run down his skin. "You're f-fucking holding a grudge, a-aren't you, Copen?"

Copen just scoffed instead of answering. One finger rudely nudged against Gunvolt's prostate, and Gunvolt's body jerked, his eyes snapping open. He kept staring at the ceiling, though. He couldn't bear to look at Copen right now. "Oh… oh god…"

It was difficult to tell if Gunvolt starting to get hard was just some kind of Pavlovian response after years of abuse, or if Copen was just rather skillful at toying with men's asses. Certainly the weird, unwanted pleasure mixing nauseatingly with his pain was a result of the latter, though. Something about it went just past visceral and into tapping into some hunger Gunvolt hadn't really known existed.

The claw vanished from his skin, and half a second later Gunvolt felt the heel of Copen's hand (still sharp) rub against his crotch, a little too gently. "They've conditioned you well, haven't they?"

"Gh… get… your hands off of m-me, Copen…"

Gunvolt tried to adjust his body so he was at least a little more- comfortable, but it was a difficult feat when his feet were only barely touching the floor to begin with and every move made his poor aching shoulders throb almost as much as his ass. He rolled his head forward, leaning it against his arm and glaring at Copen again.

It was a small comfort to see that there was nothing in Copen's expression that indicated he was enjoying this. Certainly he didn't exactly look bored, but there wasn't much emotion on his face at all. Just a glint in his eye that Gunvolt could convince himself only existed because Copen was finally at the end of what amounted to a very tedouis search.

"Anyway," Copen said, finally drawing his hand away from the growing tent of Gunvolt's pants, "Mytyl's gone."

"W-what do you mean?" Gunvolt asked, trying to distract himself as much as possible from what is happening. (It wasn't working very well.) "Is she dead? Is this your messed up way of coping?"

"No — she just dissapeared about a year ago. Didn't give me much warning, either. Best thing I can guess is that she got kidnapped."

"Why? She's not an a- a-a-dep-t—" He grit his teeth again as Copen's fingers spread and his hips seemed to jerk on their own. God, and the coarse fabric of his pants rubbing up against his cock was really starting to bother him, too…

"From what I remember, her caretaker schemed with a boy named Xiao Wu and gave him the Muse Septisomes instead of disposing of them as I ordered," Copen continued like Gunvolt wasn't panting harshly and shivering. "I was surprised by her betrayal, honestly. I'd known the person more than half my life. Hell, I thought she'd never be able to stand being in the same building as him. Not without trying to kill him, anyway. All I know is that he dissapeared too."

"Oh- god, Copen, stop—" he can't focus on exposition in THIS situation.

Copen narrowed his eyes slightly, then the claw was back at Gunvolt's too-sensitive skin, forcing him to still. Gunvolt stared at him, in pain, confusion tugging at his brain – was he really that tired? Or was it the desperation he felt, the primal urge to keep rocking back and forth on Copen's hand even though it fucking hurt?

And then the claw dug in, and Gunvolt actually screamed as Copen cut through his flesh, stopping just short of anything too important. His throat gave out as he tried to pull himself away from the nail, forcing Copen's fingers deeper into him.

"Don't," he choked, eyes wide, "d-don't… Copen… j-just end this…"

"Giving up so soon?" Copen said, twisting the claw. Gunvolt drew in a pained gasp through his teeth, trying very hard to not shake so badly lest some vital organ or blood vessel get nicked.

"I-I was at my absolute limit three y-years ago."

"And yet you continue to be as snarky as ever." Gunvolt had no idea if he was supposed to concentrate on the hand massaging his prostate, his erection, or the blood running down his stomach and legs – or if he even could concentrate on just one of them, if he even could do anything besides suffer through this too-intense chaos of sensation. His heart and his head were pounding. "But then, I suppose that's just you being exactly who you are."

"Wh- w-what do you want f-from me, Copen? Just l-let me be a-and I'll just w-wait for someone to c-come get me, I-I won't d-do anything else, I w-won't, I, ah, mngh… hh… leave m-me alone, j-just…"

Copen dragged the claw down, peeling a chunk of Gunvolt's flesh away into a loose flap of skin and viscera, his expression still unchanging as Gunvolt groaned in agony and instinctively drew back, his groan getting breathier and more dazed at Copen's fingers pressing hard against his prostate.

It was too much.

Gunvolt's whole body seized, and he screamed again – and a wet spot started forming at the front of his pants. Immediately after, he went limp, panting, little shivers wracking his frame, and Copen drew his fingers out, glancing disinterestedly at the ring of dark blood at his knuckles.

"Gunvolt?" Copen said, patting his cheek. "You still with me?"

Gunvolt stared at him in overwhelmed confusion, the lines of his face tight. "D-Don't," he mumbled under his breath, "don't… you d-are…"

"You are, then?" He studied his dirty hand in all angles, sending droplets of blood everywhere. "Then, I suppose there's a little something I ought to share with you."

"N-No… Copen…" Gunvolt could only say as the man forced him to look into two dark rubies.

"You were right when you said I was enjoying myself. In fact, that's the only reason why I'm here."

Gunvolt's lips twitched. "What?" he rasped at length.

Copen leaned forward and whispered into his ear: "I lied, no one's coming for you."

And Gunvolt broke.

When Copen drew back, Gunvolt's expression had changed, gone blank. He was just… staring, eyes unfocused, lips slightly parted. When Copen goaded him again - "Gunvolt?" - he didn't react.

Copen nodded to himself. He figured he'd do something like this – when some people are pushed to their limit, it isn't uncommon for them to drop into moody, unresponsive silences to dissociate with the suffering, and as far as completely shutting down like this went, Gunvolt would come back to normal in a few hours or perhaps days. (At least he won't try to ditch Copen midway like this)

Copen cut the rope around Gunvolt's hands with his claw, and Gunvolt collapsed bonelessly to the floor with barely a wince. Apparently on instinct, he (in a series of uncoordinated twitches) curled in on himself, pressing his arms against the yawning wound Copen had given him.

"Good," Copen said, largely to himself, as he slipped his fingers under the striker's arm, pushing the flap of flesh back into place for what little good it would do, "looks like I didn't go overboard. I was worried I'd overestimate you…"

Gunvolt's breathing was awfully shallow and ragged.

Copen rubbed a hand over Liquid's hair, which had been unattractively grown long like a weed. "Just stay like that," he said softly, "don't die on me. Not now."

He stood, wiping his hands off on his pants, then re-sharpening them it and putting it back. He walked back out of the cell, without a sound, like nothing special had happened in there.

"So?" said the same guard from earlier, who was unsurprisingly lurking just outside the room, along with a few others, "we heard a lot of conversation in English. Did he say anything?"

"Nothing important," Copen said, "he was rather delirious for most of the time, anyway."

One of the others, the youngest one Ocelot had seen at the institute, glanced through the doorway at Gunvolt curled in a loose fetal position on the floor. "And… you broke him?"

"Naturally."

"N...no more outbursts?"

"None. As long as you don't let him recover, that is — just keep his spirit worn down and he won't be able to raise a hand against you ever again. But," he added, holding up a hand, "I did have to injure him in order to do it. So unless you want him to die, leave him alone for the next day or so. His body will start to mend itself before his mind does."

"Also, he can stew in whatever it is you did to him," said one of the guards agreeably.

"Of course."

The young man who was watching Gunvolt through the doorway still hadn't looked away. Copen narrowed his eyes at him, twitching his tongue, and the guard quickly stepped back, embarrassed. "Ah," said one of the others, "how much do we owe you for this, Adept Slayer?"

"This one's on the house," Ocelot said, waving his hand dismissively, "since I did previously know him and all. Been looking for a way to take him down a notch or two for years… anyway, I'd best be on my way. And don't forget - leave him alone for the next day or two. He can't take another shock to his system just yet."

"Yes, Adept Slayer."

Next time Gunvolt woke up, he was patched up, washed, given clean clothes, and placed in a bed somewhere on an medical platform with an IV and curtains for privacy if he wanted it. He really didn't remember being moved, most of the process has passed by in a blur that he couldn't pick the details out of now and now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure how long he had been in bed.

He vaquely notices Copen's presence again at some point, talking to a medic as he enters the room. He couldn't get more than a few words out before clamming up though, like it or not. Still Gunvolt remembered what had happened in S-fit and still felt dirty, despite being cleaned, and he didn't realize until now that it wasn't the kind of dirty that soap and water and disinfectant could do anything about. It was a kind of filth that reached down deep inside him to places that shouldn't be touched.

Gunvolt glanced around the room he was in while waiting for his voice to recover. It was a rather large one, with two rows of beds on either wall, and there were a handful of other guys in here (well, a handful of men, one woman, and a few curtained beds he assumed had someone in them) – all bandaged somehow, broken bones, burns, the like. As far Gunvolt could see he was in the worst condition, and he wondered if the reason there wasn't anyone just lying in here ill was because sickness was confined to a seperate room just in case it was contagiouis.

"Hey, look." said the medic, a woman with long brown hair and a white dress with green highlights and blue eyes as she came closer to him, looking down on him with a kind expression. "The patient's awake!"

"I see," Copen replied, stoic as ever, the glance he gives Gunvolt devoid of any guilt or discomfort. "I'll leave the explanation of where he is, to you then…" and that said, he moves to leave.

"Wait." Gunvolt mumbled as hard as he could, and it seemed Copen heard him as he turned around.

"Yes?"

"You….you lied….I thought I was going to die there…"

"We know," the medic said, a guilty expression on her face as she defends him for some reason. "He explained to situation to everyone in advance, and I'm sorry we couldn't find a better way."

"You...hurted me….god, it hurts….i-it hurts…"

He was kind of out of it, wasn't he? Considering the state he was in right now, was he drugged?

"You heard him, give him some water and painkillers." Copen replies and the medic swiftly obeys.

She handed Gunvolt a water bottle, and he tried to get him to drink it with the medicine. It kind of worked out in the sense that Gunvolt was too dizzy to do more than take a few small sips and swallow, which was what he was supposed to be doing anyway. (If he drank too much, he'd throw up, which would leave him feeling even worse off). In the end, he only feels marginally better.

"His injuries are pretty bad, but with some rest, I think he's going to be okay," the medic spoke to Copen and in response he just gave her a nod. "Still to treat a prisoner so horribly…"

"What?" Gunvolt suddenly spoke up, more awake than before now.

"What what?" the girl repeated.

"What did he tell…"

"Let me talk to him," Copen said to her in response, and she moved to give them space after.

"Listen, adept." Copen said once he was sure he had Gunvolt's attention.

"Don't call me that."

"Listen, Gunvolt. I only did what I did to save you. Those people expected me to break you – my reputation precedes me, I'm afraid – and if I hadn't, they would have suspected I was up to something. There's no telling what they would have done to you with the little time they had left. Best case scenario would have been them moving you and playing dump, which would have meant a delay as we tracked you down again. More likely, they would have outright killed you."

"You… didn't have to do it like that."

There was a sigh. "You have every right to be mad at me, Gunvolt, and I don't expect you to forgive me. But as long as we're on Base X (that's the name of where you're at) together, you need to remember – I saved your life."

"…"

Copen took the silence as Gunvolt thinking about his answer and watched as the striker took another silent sip of water. Gunvolt in turn vaguely wished he would pass out so he wouldn't have to think or feel for a little while.

A clock hit its tock for a third time before Copen spoke again with an, "So?"

"I have nothing to say to you," Gunvolt replied bitterly. They both kept their voices low so the others in the room wouldn't pay too much attention. (They probably were anyway.)

"Hm. Well, I'll speak my last piece then. As I said before, we've got a friend of yours onboard."

"Who?"

"Quinn Sakurazaki."

"?!"

"I'm sure you remember the person that so graciously hosted you before. Ever since your disappearance she did her best to spread the news about your vanishing and even more to find any lead to know where you are. No hush money or threats were capable of making her stop. Coincidentally, I met her during my first year of employment just as some of my colleagues were starting to believe that more permanent solutions were needed to keep her quiet."

"If you've even touched one hair of he-"

"I haven't. If anything she's the one that approached me. It's not every day that you're accused of murdering someone out of the blue. But enough of the past, let's just make things short and say we got an understanding. One's that led her to being a temp staff member until we finally find you. So in other words, you'll be getting a visit from her in a few hours at the latest. I'd brace myself."

Gunvolt was silent for a long time. "I… don't want to see her," he finally said.

Copen raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? With the way she talked about you, I wouldn't have thought anything had happened between the two of you. And she sounded so beside herself when I told her we finally found out your location."

"I… no… I'm sure she thinks she wants to see me again," Gunvolt said, lowering his voice more until he was sure only Copen could hear him, "but it's better if she doesn't."

"Because you're a ticking time bomb that can't controll himself?"

"I-yes, that's exactly why."

Copen sighed. "Somehow, I think that won't be a problem for some time. Besides she's spent almost four years not knowing if you were alive or dead, Gunvolt. I'd give her at least a hi."

Gunvolt decides to focus on the first part, "What do you mean by that?"

"Take a look in the mirorr, Gunvolt." Copen points out a small one set beside his bed, the moment Gunvolt picks it up he sees that there's a black collar put around his neck with a blue sword sticker.

Naturally his first instinct is to snap at Copen for putting something on him fit for a dog, but the moment he puts one hand on it, he feels like all energy in his hand is being drained through it via a shock, a sensation that he can only atribute to a speficic attack years ago. Greed Snatcher.

"I see you figured it out, and the answer is yes, the collar has a special magnetic field that dissipates and drains a certain amount of septimal energy that your body constantly creates. As it's one of my inventions, it's tolerance can naturally be heightened or lowered so long story short: You're wearing a glaive, collar edition. The only reason it can even do this is thanks to my artificial material: PIX."

"I, uh, okay?" To say Gunvolt's amazed would be an understatement, he's mostly in awe and pissed at the same time. He suffered years of capture only for Copen to just create a solution to his problem in who knows how much time? He doesn't know, but he also knows that thinking that that is unfair is just his emotions speaking, but he can't help it. "I'd like it if you'd leave me alone now."

"...Very well." Ah, there it is! Irritation in his eyes, that's an look on Copen that's familiar. "You do need your rest and I won't be in the way of that. The moment you've recovered however you will be properly assigned to an unit and will be expected to work for your bread. That and the obligatory introductions to some faces, but again, now isn't the time for that. Enjoy your rest, Gunvolt."

"Man, did he always talk that pretentouisly?" Gunvolt snaps the moment Copen leaves the room.

"You can say that again," another patient replies in humor, revealing that yes, some people were overhearing what they were talking about. "But don't tell anyone I said that, ok, rookie?"

"...Sure." Gunvolt replies, only to see yet another unknown face pop up, and another, it's clear that now that he's on his own, the other patients are going to try to communicate with him.

It is within that whirlpool of chatter, that Gunvolt starts to wonder whether things will be ok.

Next chappie:

"It's only me," Gunvolt called back.

A pause, then Copen opened the door. He was partially undressed, his shirt hanging open and his hair down. "Something you wanted to talk about?" he said.

"I…"

He stepped back, gesturing. "Come in, Gunvolt. You can sit down if you like."

The only place to really sit down was Copen's bed, but Gunvolt didn't let that stop him.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I just… wanted to see you."

"Hmm. You've grown strangely attached to me as of late, haven't you?"

Gunvolt broke eye contact. "Strange indeed…"

"Not that I'm complaining. Why, it almost feels like you've forgiven me." He made to finish taking off his shirt. "Do you mind?"

"No, go ahead."

"So, Gunvolt," Copen said, continuing undressing in front of Gunvolt as though it were the most normal thing in the world, "have you forgiven me?"

"…no. I mean… no, I haven't. I can't."

"Forgive me in particular, or forgive someone in general?"

"I don't…" Gunvolt ran a hand over his hair in something like frustration. Damn, he really needed to cut it back to shape… "I don't even think about what happened, Copen. I don't want to. And either way it doesn't matter, it- it wasn't exactly the first time. It barely stands out. Everything else is a blur."

"Mm."

"And you- you did it to save me."

"That I did."

There was a long silence. Gunvolt stared at his lap, and Copen, stripped down to his boxers, took his sweet time putting on a nightshirt.

"But you did enjoy yourself, didn't you?" Gunvolt said with begrudging, accusatory bitterness. "You got off on it."

"So did you."

AN: Thanks for reading so far.

I got bored so I wanted to write some Gunvolt X Copen smut, hence this.

There will be more of course, as for some clarifications.

Base X is bassicaly a gigantic air ship where the duo can take missions and stuff. Imagine any Megaman X game and you've got the basic gist of it. In this AU Gunvolt's septima is reaching a new level (without the dragon god nonsense) while Copen reached a new pinnacle in science with PIX tech, so in other words... elements of Post Gunvolt 2 and Gunvolt 3 will be in this. (Shadow Yakumo is real, Xiao Wu and Mytyl dissapeared, ATEMS will be an opponent and a new QUILL has risen from the ashes. Will two former foes be able to deal with this TRIPLE TROUBLE?)

Also yeah, the IX2 bosses are now creations of Copen here, more detail on that later as spoiling too much isn't really juicy now is it?

One problem tho, I can't think of a better title name. So if you have one, lemme know.

Oh and (Edited Image for the lolz, credit to the real author here: /linesonwhite/status/1676822071350034432)