Flug hoped he was doing this right. This was just one of many forms of meditation, and somewhere around the 30th pose that he had tried. Even after clicking through various meditation, karate, and yoga tutorials online Flug had yet to find a posture he was comfortable with. The whole thing in and of itself struck him as extremely silly and pointless, but given that he couldn't sleep on things if he tried, he kept on going through video after video hoping he could find some magic pretzel pose that kept him calm and relaxed throughout the night.

He had found a new favorite past-time over the past few nights: wasting his time.

Flug told himself that he was going to be productive during these eternal all-nighters. He told himself that he would use this time to expand his mind. And what did he spend the last four nights doing?

Flipping between Top 10 Anime lists and random documentaries that caught his eye.

Don't get him wrong, he thoroughly enjoyed learning about the puppeteer behind Elmo and the horrible conditions of fast-food slaughterhouses, as well as the 10 Most Evil Villains in Anime, but it wasn't exactly the sort of knowledge he'd been hyping himself up about.

Tonight, however, tonight was something different and he was determined to not waste the night away.

Tonight was only about another 17 hours away from when he would be presenting his project for his Engineering Club. And he'd found out there was going to be a surprise visitor to spectate.

An American professor from a similar Universidad (sorry, University) in California. Supposedly he also had a Gift and was interested in what students from across the border came up with. He was going to be there for some tour or something, Flug didn't know the details. But he was going to be on campus and was invited to watch their demonstration.

So, Flug was nervous. This guy was being built up as some kind of big deal, and Flug was worried about what he would have to say. That and he didn't really know much about actual Americans, he just knew that in most media, they seemed to be really trigger-happy and eager to shoot things. Like people crossing the border.

Ok, not helpful.

Which was why Flug had spend the last few hours of moonlight trying to find a position that didn't make him feel like a complete idiot sitting on his bed in front of his laptop with his eyes shut like some weird Hippie-Hipster-lovechild.

He was hoping that trying out this meditation thing could relax him enough to get through the night in relative peace. So far, it was slow going.

The Lotus position, the most common one, pained his legs. It turned out there were three variations of it, quarter, half, and full, all of them putting his lower half to sleep in what felt like minutes.

The main issue was that he couldn't seem to reach the point of relaxation he wanted. He always got distracted by his uncomfortable posture, or bothered by how he felt like a complete idiot just for trying this, or got annoyed by the video itself. Such as the endless repetition of "breathe". He knew how to breathe, he'd been doing it for over 20 years thank you very much. He didn't need to be told over and over and over again "Breathe in, breathe out," he wasn't going into labor!

Although Flug really didn't have any reason to be nervous. While everyone else had been spending the last few days trying to finish up their projects at the last minute before the live demonstration presentation amalgamation incantation what-in-tarnation (shit he was babbling again) tomorrow, Flug had been ok up until hearing about the surprise spectator. Which he should've been, given how early he'd finished them. It had only taken a few hours to make sure that everything was working perfectly as it should. So he was not any more neurotic and excitable that usual.

Ugh, the open wounds covering the right side of his face itched. Flug tried to ignore it, tried to put it out of his mind and get back to whatever the nice lady on the computer was telling him, but he was already losing his patience. Meditation was clearly a lost cause.

Oh, right, why was his normally scarred over cheek and part of his upper arm and shoulder now open? What opened his scars? Well, that's a really dumb story highlighting the lengths Flug would go to in order to avoid human interaction.

With so few days left before he was set to present his inventions, what Flug should've done was triple-check the wiring and make sure everything was working perfectly, ensure that nothing was going to go wrong by measuring the electrical output and perhaps asking one of the professors for their input, or even just taken the time to relax in his free time and go into his presentation well-prepared and quote-unquote "well-rested".

What he should not have done was remove his finished projects from their heavily sealed lockers at school for "field tests".

Given the sensitivity of their materials and their use, it was strictly forbidden to remove their inventions from school grounds. Since they were made with school property on school property by school students, they were effectively school property themselves. Meaning Flug just robbed his own school.

Thank God for his naturally nervous and jittery disposition. Anyone else would have seemed strange stuttering and jumping at every noise and constantly looking over their shoulder.

But, Flug actually did that pretty often, especially since Aurelio Cruz had made it a point to stop by more and more frequently. Flug felt like he had to be on the lookout for him. It was like Aurelio was going specifically to see him, not that he was of course that would be crazy, and it was surreal.

Flug hoped that Aurelio wouldn't hold it against him if he shot him with what was pretty much a bondage-style taser with less pain. Aurelio being angry at him wasn't something he wanted. He was intimidating and attractive and dreamy and had a scary habit of avoiding consequences for his actions.

Even if Flug couldn't actually dream or have nightmares anymore, he could still come up with hundreds of terrible scenarios in his head to freak himself out. He really wished his brain would just stop doing that to him.

Kinky as they were, they were not what he needed at the moment.

He'd stolen (he freaking made them, yet he had to steal them) his two latest inventions and had ridden the bus back home in a state of frenzied panic. Paralyzed by the fear of getting caught.

What would happen if he were found out? Would he be expelled? Would they confiscate his inventions? Was he going to be taken in for questioning? Or even arrested?! All of those seemed likely, as he was technically committing theft (Or would it be robbery? Was the penalty for one different than the other?) at the moment. In an attempt at being rational, Flug reasoned that most likely he would not be expelled. Not if he could convince people that he wasn't aware that they couldn't take their projects home.

As for getting the police involved, well, no one though Flug to be very intimidating or to have any bad intentions. He'd probably get off with some questioning, and maybe just a warning if he acting pathetic enough.

He could probably pull that off.

As he reached the familiar stop across the street from the red-bricked apartment building he lived in, he felt himself tense up even more. This was it, Flug just had to make it home and he was safe. No one ever came over, none of his schoolmates had even ever been here, no one knew where he lived or had his number so once that door was firmly shut and locked he would be cut off from the world once again and could think in peace.

Except for Black Hat. He had his number and had been here before, he'd even walked him to his apartment door that one time, so Black Hat could contact him if he wanted.

Speaking of, he was sure he never actually told Black Hat where he lived. Not even in passing. Flug didn't think he even told him that he lived in an apartment at all, much less what the address was!

As Flug trudged his weary legs up the stairs, not even checking to see if the elevator had been repaired yet, he came to the conclusion that Black Hat stalked him. Or had paid someone else to stalk him. He did mention that he had someone dig into his past, a villain with more experience than Flug in the ways of computer science, was it so far fetched to assume that things like his address or place of work would've been included in whatever illegal background-check had been performed without his consent?

Was that how Black Hat found out that Flug wore panties? Oh God so some random person Flug had never even met knew as well?! It was as if his life was slowly spiraling out of control around him and soon all he would be left with was his intimidating top-hatted employer and nothing to occupy his time with except serving said well-dressed master.

Oh god not serving. Not the maid fantasy again. NOT THE MAID FANTASY AGAIN! It was random as all hell the first time and it's random as all hell now!

Flug opened his door with one of two keys to the apartment (his parents had the spare just in case they needed to get in for any reason) and partook in his usual ritual of stripping to his underwear as soon as he was sure the door was locked and he was alone. He had constructed a little cap on his peephole, as he was paranoid about someone looking in without his noticing, and it was kept over the peephole at all times to make sure he was unobserved.

Except in the rare cases that someone actually knocked on his door and he took it off to see who it was. In which he case he would throw on some pants real quick.

It was kept covered so that no one could peek in and see him lounging in ladies wear. Much in the same way as all the windows were kept blocked with newspaper and the blinds remained shut. Someone could've just looked in his window and seen him! It made his electric bill high, as well as his air conditioning in the summer where he didn't dare to open the windows unless he was about to die of heatstroke.

But it was a small price to pay for his peace of mind.

Flug took his stolen goods out of his backpack, trying to figure out what exactly it was he was going to do.

He wanted to test them. On living subjects. Humans, specifically. That was the plan, at least, if he even had one. But now, alone in his apartment, he wondered how exactly he was going to do this.

He wanted to test them on living humans. He knew consciously that it was an immoral thing, especially when he was already planning to modify them both later to be able to emit lethal amounts of electricity, but it was what he wanted. He couldn't see how testing them on animals such as mice was going to be much help. The whole point of his creations was to immobilize Gifted humans for capture (and study, perhaps). So the most rational thing in Flug's mind was to see if they actually could immobilize humans. The mice and rats they used to experiment on in the lab just didn't give him the results he wanted.

At least not as quickly or directly as just going ahead and using humans would.

But that still left him with the issue of where to find a person to use as a test subject. What, was he going to just walk around some shitty neighborhood until he found some random homeless person? And then, what, just shoot him with his homemade taser?

Flug supposed he could offer to pay someone to let him shock them. Not sure how much that would cost him, though. And he wasn't really willing to pay anyone either.

He supposed...he could always use...himself…

Rocinante Flugslys tried to push the idea out of his mind. Using some innocent person as his guinea pig was twisted, but using himself was just plain dangerous. If he was indeed able to shock himself into submission, how would he be able to turn his devices off? He'd be stuck! Shocked until he lost consciousness or died, whichever came first. He might even be able to fry his own brain if the electric current went through his body for too long.

Hey now, there's ANOTHER feature he could add! Electroshock mode! File it under Black Hat edition!

That was what Flug had been calling all his ideas for modifications and improvements to existing inventions of his, the Black Hat edition.

Perhaps he should call Black Hat himself. He doubted the man would let him test his inventions on him, but he could probably be trusted to observe and make sure Flug didn't accidentally electrocute himself. Since he'd wanted him as a subordinate so badly Flug was pretty sure Black Hat wouldn't just let him die. Not even from his own stupidity.

Flug pushed the thought of calling the man over out of his mind. He didn't want to have to have to depend on him for everything. He felt bad enough with how often he'd let Black Hat drive him around, he didn't want to ask another thing of his new boss. Not to mention how he'd used him as a life raft to escape having to confront his feelings towards another man. Twice.

For some reason, which Flug didn't care to delve deeper into, he really really really didn't want to call the man and bring him over. It made him feel like he was helpless without him. Like Flug couldn't take care of himself, like he needed Black Hat around. Like he couldn't do things for himself anymore. That feeling didn't sit right with Flug. He may be under contract to serve Black Hat's ambition, but he still wanted at least a little bit of independence and autonomy.

It was at times like these he wished he had a more social personality. He wished he made more friends, actually put in effort to be close to his fellow students of science. Then maybe he would have someone he could trust to invite over and assist in live human testing of dangerous experimental devices.

It was at that point Flug remembered that supposedly, he didn't actually feel pain anymore. Or pleasure. Or much of anything in the realm of physical sensations. It was just all in his head. Would that mean that he could potentially move his body while the electric current was flowing through him?

He'd designed them to cause the least amount of pain they could but the electric current would still be keeping him mostly paralyzed. It had been tricky, finding the correct electromagnetic frequency that halted the motor skills of the body but kept the important organs working as to keep the subject quote unquote "unharmed", and Flug credited his long nights of sleepless calculation and unceasing workdrive to his achievement.

Why did he even feel the need to attempt this? Did he not have faith in his work? No, that wasn't it, to Flug it seemed more of a matter of just making sure. He knew himself to be capable of great things, even terrible things. But he couldn't just go and electrocute everyone else in his club. Not with so many witnesses.

Fuck, that was dark. Flug thought. Maybe Black Hat was right about me.

What he could do was see for himself just what exactly a person would be going through. It would give him better insight as to how to make his inventions better, give him that new perspective he claimed he wanted. He would use another person if he could, but he just didn't have anyone else.

Well, maybe Black Hat could go out and kidnap someone for Flug to-

No, no, no! Rocinante Flugslys was stopping that train of thought right there! He was not going to rely on Black Hat for this. These were his creations! He'd made them himself, and he'd made them for himself! In the future, Black Hat would undoubtedly be involved, but not now! Not for this.

Would it be painful, Flug wondered. Would that be the only thing that could possibly save him from killing himself with idiocy? Perhaps it was possible to move even when being held still by electricity, but it was too painful for an average human to accomplish. Would Flug's numbness (if he could control it) give him a fighting edge where a normal person would be helpless? Would it be possible to discern this without experimenting on himself?

He didn't see how it could. He was a man of science. In science, you hypothesize and test. That was the most basic rule.

He could do this...maybe...He was willing to try if nothing else.

Deciding to go with the simpler of the two, Flug pulled out the ElecTrap from his backpack and lightly tossed it on the wood floor. In his hand he held a small device that resembled a car alarm. This was the controller for the machine. It had one button at the moment, the button to actually turn the thing on.

It's Black Hat edition would have an option to make the shocks as painful and last as long as desired, while keeping the subject fully immobilized. Along with a kill switch, guaranteed to cause irreparable damage to the subjects nervous system if not outright death. Flug was sure Black Hat would approve.

Flug ran his thumb over the button. It was not the cliche giant red button protruding from the body of the device like one saw from TV and movies. It was at about the same level as the face of his creation, and had to be pushed in so that the button was actually at a lower level to turn the ElecTrap on.

Flug had done this to ensure that there was no chance of the machine accidentally being activated by being dropped or something falling on it or something. The push had to be deliberate and centered on the button.

Pushing this one button was also the only way to turn it off, because that was just more convenient. Why make two buttons when you can make one for all your needs?

Flug gave the button a hard press, and the plain-ish saucer-size dish that was the ElecTrap glowed with blue light for a second before going dark and producing a light humming sound, signalling that it was primed and ready for use.

Not wanting to accidentally throw the remote and lose track of it once he was shocked, Flug placed it on his couch. He would most likely collapse as he lost his motor functions, and didn't want to waste precious time looking for the key to his salvation. At least this way, he'd know where it was.

Of course, if he couldn't move at all, it wouldn't matter.

Swallowing his fear and hoping that his Soulless Super Powers would be enough to save him, he stepped onto his creation.

The first thing he was aware of was that it was too slow to be able to trap Natalia the speedster. Were he able to form coherent thoughts he would've began estimating how much he would have to speed up it's process of snapping its jaws shut and attaching itself to a person's ankle. Perhaps delaying the shock by a few milliseconds would allow that excess electricity to speed the process up enough so that the girl didn't notice until it was already firmly locked onto her.

The second thing Flug was aware of was that for someone who was supposedly completely numb and just had phantom pains for all his sensations, he sure was feeling mighty sensationed.

Ok, there wasn't really pain per se, more of an uncomfortable sort of buzz going through his body. Which was taking up so much of his notice that it took a second for Flug to realize that he was now stiff as a board on his hardwood floor. The ElecTrap wrapped securely around his ankle and sending a specialized electric current up his nervous system to keep him paralyzed.

Well, he hadn't felt the impact. That was certainly...something.

Flug experimentally attempted moving his arms. As far as he could tell, they weren't moving. He hadn't landed on his floor in a position that gave him a clear view of his arms, or any other part of him aside from his left wrist. He could still move his eyes around and blink, although that did cause him a slight stinging sensation. His glasses were askew as well, something he wasn't at liberty to correct, making his view of the world out of focus and dull.

He tried to open his mouth, which it seemed like he might be able to do, but vocalization seemed out of reach. At least at the moment. And now he couldn't close his mouth. Oh man, he was gonna drool all over the floor.

So, Good News, it works! Bad News, it works. Flug thought through the haze of static in his ears. Now what the hell am I supposed to do?

Flug tried to move his body. He focused on something small, his thumb. He tried to focus all of his energy and being on moving his thumb. Like that lady in that movie, except she only had her legs paralyzed and had started with focusing on her big toe- NOT. IMPORTANT. FOCUS.

It didn't seem to be working, and Flug began feeling a bit like an idiot who just screwed himself over all because he couldn't get over his social anxiety and inadequacy issues and just call someone over to make sure he didn't do anything stupid.

Ok, scratch that, to make sure he didn't do anything stupid alone and with no help in case something went wrong. This was a terrible idea right from the start.

A terrible idea that he just HAD to go through with without telling anyone else or taking any sort of precautions! When would he learn, these things always ended badly for him? He just wasn't cut out for spontaneity, it wasn't in the cards for him. He was a man of science and science required taking risks. It also ideally required being prepared for the consequences of those risks and having failsafes so that one doesn't end up paralyzed on their floor with no chance of help!

If he'd only swallowed his stupid pride and just called-Hey now what's this? He didn't feel anything. The incessant buzzing of voltage going through his nerves had quieted.

Oh wait, it was coming back. Like it had faded away the less he preoccupied himself with it and was being brought back by his revelation.

Flug tried to control it. He cleared his mind and thought about something else. Something that he could just go off on an internal Shakespearean monologue about.

Like the puddle of drool forming on the floor.

Oh God, how undignified. What if he died like this? Is this really how he wanted to be found, shocked still and drooling like some toddler? Then everyone would know what an idiot he was. Black Hat would probably facepalm so hard he broke his monocle. Like, Goddammit I get this guy for a week and even get a killer make out sesh, and he goes and kills himself. You just can't get good, reliable help these days. Now who will I live with in my Giant Hat of Evil?

Oh yeah, about that. Assuming the townplan hadn't been set in stone yet, Flug wanted to take a crack at designing the layout of their future town. It had started from an idea about the power source of their base, and how perhaps setting in up with it's own generator and water heater separate from the rest of the town could benefit them. It would certainly save them money in bills, and perhaps it could be eco-friendly.

Hey, you can't rule the world if there is no world to rule now can you? Heh, he should pitch that to Black Hat. They could be eco-terrorists together. Save the world, so that we can rule it. Or rather, Black Hat could. Flug would be off to the side doing the majority of the work while His Hatted-ness lounged on his ass and bit off the heads of puppies or whatever was in those disgusting sandwiches he ate. Seriously, if Flug could still have nightmares, they'd be filled with whatever Black Hat had for lunch. Along with an abundance of mayonnaise. Perhaps he ate good intentions and paired them with the tears of starving children. No, too low brow. They were most definitely the tears of spoiled brats witnessing patricide. Only the finest misery for my Master!

Flug came to the realization that he'd actually chuckled out loud. Meaning his muscles were working enough to produce sound. If he wasn't mistaken, he was also smiling. Which meant he sure as shit couldn't die now because being found in a puddle of his own drool with a grin on his face in his lacey white stockings would only further cement that he was, in fact, a dumbass. A dumbass with an exceptionally great ass, CAN I GET AN AMEN?

Jokes aside though, he should really try getting up. Flug tried again to move his thumb, while also trying to ignore the fact that he couldn't exactly feel himself but he was aware of the current going through him and how it felt far away. It was a detached sort of feeling, not unlike the state he liked to be in when pleasing himself. Being in his body, but not exactly being in his body. Like he was trying to experience things from outside his own flesh.

Well, if this was how he could control his senses, then this should be fairly easy. Just a different reaction to the same state of mind. Instead of heightening his feelings, he'd do the opposite and muffle them.

His thumb twitched, barely noticeable but it did. And Flug was pleased.

He estimated it took him roughly half an hour to finally pick himself and drag himself along the floor to his couch. And another half an hour to be able to reach his damn controller and press the button. Next time, he should really set up a timer. Or a camera, so that he could get a clear observation of his experiments. He could've sworn he had a camera somewhere, whatever could've happened to it? Did he leave it at his parents house?

While he had been able to move his body, it had been slow going. His body resisted the movement, and it probably would've been painful if he had paid it more mind. Mind over matter, that should be his new motto. At least he had some experience with his newfound state of being. He successfully numbed himself to pain and discomfort and was able to resist paralyzing shocks to his brain! He should do something to celebrate, like get some ice cream. Goddamn did rainbow sherbert sound good right now.

When Flug did finally free himself from his own invention, he took a long, deep breath and thanked every God imaginable that he was able to get through that ordeal he just put himself. Maybe it was true, God didn't send us anything we couldn't handle. A homosexual man in a Catholic household? He could deal with it. A bigoted asshole harassing him and his first actual boyfriend? Eh, he knows what to do. Some weirdo has him sign over his immortal soul and pledge himself to chaos and destruction?

Well, people always said Our Lord works in mysterious ways. Perhaps He wanted to watch the world burn as well.

That sure was a funny way of looking at things. So funny that Flug bursted out in shaky, breathless laughter from it.

He should really clean up the floor, he probably made a gross trail of spit dragging himself along the floor like he did.

Flug turned his body, kicking the deactivated ElecTrap away from his foot, to face where he'd been laying before and found much more than drool.

Blood.

A trail of blood.

Where did all that blood come from?!

Flug raised a hand to his right cheek and felt some vague sticky wetness. It went from his temple to his chin, a bit falling into his eye, and there were patches showing from underneath his white shirt.

He'd managed to open his scars.

And oh man was it starting to sting!

Flug tried to calm himself down, tried to block it out like he had the voltage, but all his sensations (fabrications of the mind they might be) were coming back to the forefront of his mind and his body ached! It must've been from the force of the electricity, from making his body move against its own biological limitations. That must've been what opened all these old wounds. And fighting off his body's synapses, oh man he must've pulled every muscle he had! Hell, maybe he actually damaged his brain! Goddamn delicate mound of meat-jello occupying his head-hole!

Flug dragged himself to his feet, hoping his lacy white legwear had been spared. No such luck, there were clear blood stains on the right leg. Darn it, he liked these. And his legs were seizing up, it was all he could to do keep himself from collapsing again.

Flug decided that his body took priority over his floor and limped his aching being to the bathroom to clean up. It was painful, stripping the rest of his garments off, like trying to move glass limbs. Every movement sent another wave of pain shooting through his veins.

Well, he sure wasn't going to be doing any other experiments tonight.

Once he was in the bathroom and completely naked, he forced his legs to step into the bathtub. He made his unwilling body lean forward and turn the familiar dials to get the water running. He barely had the energy to plug the drain and crank up the cold water before he resigned himself to laying back and finally allowing himself a moment to let the cold take him.

The water was icy, he would have to adjust it eventually, but for the moment it seemed to help with his bleeding wounds. Like an ice pack helps a bruise. If he was not mistaken, the best thing for sore muscles was a cold pack first, then something warm. Ice now, heat later. Flug supposed this was the "ice" portion of his evening. He'd turn up the hot water later.

The freezing water helped him reach a state of numbness again, making it much easier to move around and assess the damage more acutely.

All the scars on his face were open and leaking out that sweet sweet life juice, a quick peek in his small handheld mirror confirmed it. Flug ran his fingers over the hatchmarked cuts gently, doing his best not to open them any wider. He had to be delicate with them, or it would take longer for them to close. His blood was seeping out of them down his face, slowly though, not at any rate that would raise concern. He'd probably be fine.

The rest of his open wounds, centered mostly on his upper right torso and shoulder area, were much the same. There was less scarring here, and bleeding wasn't much worse. The amount of blood on the floor most likely due to how long he was crawling his way across. His bite marks were crying rivlets of blood, meaning he'd be stuck with them for even longer now.

It was funny, even with the damage to his eyes from the crash, the color red was still visible for the most part. Most others had faded, the majority of the color wheel he couldn't even see without his prescription glasses or goggles (a special order just for him, his dad had called in a favor), but red remained with him. It made the world without his glasses look a bit like that one movie, but less in focus.

Before the tub could overflow, Flug reached forward and shut off the water. If possible, it was even colder now that he was submerged up to his neck. He found he didn't mind the cold so much, it was a suitable distraction from his screaming body. He wasn't used to just stopping himself from feeling pain, so having something that would numb him under normal circumstances was a good gateway point to reaching numbness on his own.

Flug felt tired, something he wasn't really sure why he felt since he couldn't really do anything about it. You'd think that once a person lost the ability and physical need for sleep, they'd stop feeling fatigue. But nope! Flug still got tired, apparently. For some reason.

Maybe it was like his pain, just in his head.

Maybe he was already crazy. He was, after all, sitting in a bathtub full of ice water just letting himself bleed out instead of doing something useful like disinfecting his wounds. He should really get on that at some point. Although the bleeding was stopping itself already, and he'd just have to be careful he didn't reopen them and wider within the next few days.

He felt like he could fall asleep. He was drowsy, the world was bleak and the the only color visible to him was that murky red clouding up the chilly water above his chest, and he couldn't exactly say when the last time he'd bathed was.

Rocinante felt his lips dip beneath the cold liquid. Felt its piercing fingers soothe his jaw and coax a sort of sigh from his lips. His eyes drifted shut, all his attention focused on the numbing sensation of the water and how good it felt to lose all his feelings. That seemed contradictory but Rocinante couldn't find it in himself to care about things like sense. Ironic, since all he could think about was his lack of senses. Most prominently, his lack of common sense. He grinned to himself, thinking about what an idiot he was for pulling such a stunt. Dumbass.

The water was past his nose, forcing Rocinante to hold his breath. He felt himself melting into the frigid touch of the water, aware of its presence around his shape but not feeling it, not exactly. He could feel the cold and he could feel the wetness but the further his mind got the less it was really touching him. It was just there, present but within its own boundaries not stepping over what he was comfortable with.

He could feel it seeping its way into his light brown locks, the briskness kneading into his scalp and making him calm. He was completely under now, freezing and utterly at ease. The surface of the water smooth as glass, as if he could stay below undisturbed for eternity. A perfectly preserved specimen frozen in time. Safe from the dangers of the living.

Rocinante wondered in the back of his mind if this was what it felt like to die.

Until he did the stupid thing and inhaled.

Immediately the calm was shattered and he was sent back above the water, painfully and bitterly. He was coughing up water, not good for his cheek or his facial muscles, and the fair amount of thrashing he did wasn't doing any favors for the rest of him either. He was shivering and uncomfortable and it was hard to move.

With some difficulty, he removed the drain stopper and let the arctic peace he'd been experiencing circle down the drain. He turned the knob for hot water as far as it would go, ready to embrace the inferno.

It was a bit like sitting in a pot of freshly made soup. That was Flug's first thought, at least. Or a hot tub, if hot tubs had no bubbles and were just giant vats of scalding water. But the heat, too, felt rather nice. Just as all-encompassing but with a fiery embrace rather than a cool one. Like it was determined to hit him full-force and consume him.

Until it was way too hot. And it got way too hot way too quick. And Flug had to mess around with the dials for a while until he got the perfect temperature and allowed himself to stop the drain up again and just wallow in his hotter than average bath.

Which was less of a bath and more of a rinse. Soap would only sting him further and he didn't much care what his hair looked like.

The warm water was nice and inviting, but Flug just couldn't compare it to the serenity he'd found in the biting ice bath. The water was better for him, wouldn't give him hypothermia, would do more to relax him and his tender body, but much like a quiet life as a heroic scientist wasn't anything he really wanted, neither was the common comfort of a warm bath.

Flug felt like he might be able to coax himself out of tub, after a few more minutes maybe. He really wasn't sure how much time had past since he'd gotten in, but he assumed it to be fairly late by now. He'd have to check his wounds, just a precaution to make sure they closed up again. Curse his thin skin.

Hmm? What was that noise? It sounded kind of like his cell phone notification. Was someone texting him?

Rising to his feet, minding his body not to make any sudden movements lest he have a bigger mess to clean up, he dried himself off as best as he could and hunted around for his phone while the tub drained. He didn't bother to cover himself up, he was home alone after all.

Flug found his phone on the kitchen counter, his clock reading 10:19. So, not as late as he thought it would be, but late enough to qualify as late in his mind. The text message was from Black Hat. Of course it was, who else so much as had his number?

So, how are these late nights treating you?

It took Flug a few seconds to read the message but he had a fair idea of how he was going to reply. He tried to remember where he left his glasses. Did he still have them on when he finally made it to the couch? Did he leave them in the bathroom? He couldn't remember.

What he could remember was that he had a freaking trail of blood staining his floor. Shit, how do you get blood out of wood?

Flug lugged himself to the couch, trying in vain to spot his glasses. Then limped his way back to the bathroom to try and find them in there. He rummaged through the pile of discarded clothes on the bathroom floor and pulled out the thankfully unharmed eyewear. If these broke, Flug didn't know what he'd do. He could barely see without them. He was making his way through his apartment by sheer memory and caution.

Putting his glasses on, he typed out a reply with his hurting fingers:

For the most part ok.

It wasn't as if that was a lie. Up until now he'd done little more than surf the internet all night. It was a strain on his eyes at times but he was more or less fine.

Flug made his way to his bedroom so that he could put some clothes on. Nothing special, just something to cover himself up. Even in his tightly shut fortress of an apartment where no one could see him, he didn't like being completely exposed for too long.

Another text from Black Hat: Keeping yourself occupied?

He grabbed a random pair of panties and slipped them on without much thought as to what they looked like or what color they were. He decided he could go without stockings for a night and slipped on a pair of old shorts instead. He needed to stay shirtless for now, in order to give himself a small check up. Which would take a while if he couldn't get his pain receptors under control. He sort of needed to move his arms for this.

Flug texted back: More or less, yeah.

Flug put his phone down for a second to go get his first aid kit. It wasn't all that much, just some band aids, gauze, disinfectant, rubbing alcohol, some cold and flu medicine, just basic things in case of emergency.

What have you been up to?

Well, Flug thought sarcastically, Tonight I used myself as a guinea pig for one of those inventions I'm presenting Friday. Good news, it works! Need some help testing the other one though. May I shoot you sometime tomorrow?

He briefly chuckled to himself, as if he would admit to doing something so ridiculous. If Black Hat asked, he'd just say he'd exerted himself and his scars had opened up. It was the truth, even if it wasn't exactly the whole truth.

But, Black Hat probably was expecting some sort of answer. Before Flug really gave all his attention to examining himself, he wrote:

Oh you know, brainstorming ideas for our evil lair. I was thinking of taking architecture and city planning courses next semester. I want to design the entire layout of the town. Assuming there's no plan for it already?

Flug then turned away from his phone and set to work on examining his shoulder and bicep. He was no medical student, but it seemed like the blood was coagulating (he hoped that was the right term for "clotting and stopping the bleeding on its own") and he wouldn't have to worry about bleeding out. His cheek was about the same, although a bit more tender to its proximity to his mouth and eyes. If he was just careful and didn't make any sudden facial movements, they'd close up on their own without much of a fuss.

During the time it took for Flug to determine he was alright by his standards, he noticed his notification alarm go off about four times. Black Hat sure was talkative tonight, huh? Flug didn't so much as look at his phone until he was done so perhaps one or two of them was just an "Are you still there?" text.

There is, but I'm sure whatever you can come up with will be superior.

I can probably get them to build whatever you want. I mean, these are the same guys who will be constructing a giant inhabitable hat. I don't think anything else you add will top that.

Oh hey, what if we call the town "Hatsville"? What do you think of that as the name?

Yeah I know the hat thing is really corny, but when you have a theme you stick to it! And hats like this never go out of style.

Black Hat was right, it was really corny. But also sort of...cute, in a dorky way. Flug appreciated the fact that even Black Hat could recognize when he was being ridiculous. And how he was so unapologetic about it. If it were Flug, he'd probably be constantly apologizing about how downright bizarre his ideas were and criticizing every aspect of his own plans. But not Black Hat. Black Hat was sure of himself and driven by his ambition. Flug felt that as his employee he now had an obligation (whether contractual or otherwise) to give him all the support he could.

Or perhaps...as his friend?

Do you get lonely being awake all night?

The question was so sudden that Flug had to do a double take just for it to sink in. It was odd, Black Hat didn't really ask how Flug was past making sure Flug was healthy. This was the first time he'd asked about how Flug was actually feeling.

He had to think about it. Not his answer, he knew that fairly quickly, what Flug had to think about was exactly how honest he was going to be with Black Hat. Black Hat had told him he didn't appreciate being lied to, and Flug was not keen on being on the receiving end of Black Hat's anger anymore than was necessary. Certainly not over something like feelings. But he still wasn't sure how truthful he could be with Black Hat about himself just yet.

Yes, he knew some of his secrets, but he didn't know him. Not really. Not in any sort of deep, intimate way that would make Flug comfortable enough to share things like his innermost thoughts so casually. And there was no way of telling whether or not he ever would, despite the (hopefully?) long future ahead of them.

Deciding to bite the bullet, he typed:

No more than usual :)

He hoped the smiley-face would make it seem like a joke. To strengthen the levity, he added: For the record, I like Hatsville. It's charming.

Flug hoped that would satisfy Black Hat for now. Judging by his next text, either something just came up or he got bored of the conversation.

Ok. Good night.

Flug doubted he was going to bed right now. The man had the same night owl vibe Flug recognized from his own self. Talking to Flug at all was probably just something to past the time, and now he found something more entertaining. Not that Flug was complaining exactly, it wasn't like he was a conversationalist in any sense of the word. But still, there are better ways of ending a conversation, guy.

Which brings us back to the present, with Flug attempting to find inner peace and instead only finding his inner middle-aged-white-woman demanding to see the manager about her expired coupons.

Meditating was a bust. He wasn't into it, he couldn't imaging being into it, and he'd wasted more than enough time giving it a fair shot for his liking.

But, he was still without anything to do.

What was the other substitute for sleep? Hypnosis?

Ah well, that was probably just as pointless. Meditation was at least something he could comprehend. Controlled breathing and "relaxation" in stupid poses. For the record, doing them just sitting normally or laying down felt just as dumb.

But hypnosis? HA!

Flug could buy the relinquishing of his soul by signing a voodoo contract procured from a witch doctor (or whatever that term he prefered was) who led an army of undead subjects in the southeastern United States, but lulling someone into a state of heightened suggestion with mesmerizing swirling images and soft voices whispering repetitive trigger words and phrases in the subjects subconscious to cause specific behavior or actions when uttered was just ludicrous!

But, Flug had nothing else to do with himself. He wasn't in the mood for any of his anime DVD's and none of the recent titles had really stuck out to him. Unless he wanted to waste another night switching from Top 10 Anime Betrayals and The Eight-Part Octology on the History of Hentai, why not at least give it a try?

As a man of science, he did feel that perhaps he should be more open-minded. He'd given meditation a fair shot, after all. It wasn't as if he had anything to lose.

So Flug typed out "hypnosis" and hit search. There were actually way more results than he thought there would be. Was there some kind of following for hypnosis videos? Was this like that ASMR thing where people put it on as background noise? He wasn't a fan of that, the spine-tingling feeling being rather jarring and unpleasant for him. This was already off to a great start.

The titles weren't much help.

Sleep hypnosis, not ever worth trying. Past Life Regression, not was he was looking for. Vampire Hypnosis Session, not his fetish, sorry. Stop Worrying and Be Happy, oh wow his anxiety magically disappeared! Beginners Astral Projection, if that was even actually a thing would it work for someone without a soul? Hypnosis: Meet Your Spirit Animal, if it wasn't a bird he was calling bullshit. He had all the bird qualities; love of flying, eats little, easily startled. Guided Meditation, oh god it was like he was going in circles.

Hypnosis: Hands Free...Orgasm? Huh?

Slave Hypnosis...what?

Had...had Flug just stumbled across an entirely new genre of porn? Was erotic hypnosis actually a thing people made and used and did? Who came up with that?! Who on earth got turned on by the idea of being mentally controlled and submissive...submissive to, to someone...and...and being at another person's m...mercy...with...with absolutely no choice but to...to obey...totally and without question...obey...be...be completely and...utterly...obedient...

...if anyone asked, Flug was doing research.

Notes:

I'm uploading this now so that I can work on my essay without constantly thinking back to this. This is my 2nd update of May, I'm done for the month, and I need to focus. This hasn't been beta-ed, or at least I can't remember if my friend had read the full version of this chapter (I think I rewrote this like twice) so this might be edited in the future if I remember. If this isn't how scars or science work, I'm sorry. I really struggled with this one.

I don't think there was anything that needed translating, but just in case: hentai = literally translates to pervert in Japanese, is synonymous with anime porn in Western countries. Usually involving tentacles.