Icon by @Healing-Winston-Pratt. Banner by @ng5132. Main blog: Dawniebb. Not reliable at all. I love the Anarchists yet I wrote a novel-length fic dedicated to roast them.
So...some of you might’ve noticed I’ve stopped updating this blog and, for instance, I’ve stopped updating my fic, which is “Hope Called Themselves the Renegades”, a Renegades origin story and, also, my first NaNoWriMo project.
The reason for that?
Well x’d.
I think we’ve all seen posts about how fanfic writers don’t get enough support on their work, and that’s what happened to me. To be honest, I worked very hard and dedicated a lot of my time and my effort to Hope Called Themselves the Renegades. And, in the end, it barely got any support and it was like talking to a wall.
Still, I want to thank the ones who followed and also interacted with it. I hope you know how grateful I am <3
Now, I’m not that big of a jerk. Hence, if you still want to read the fic, you can DM me (or send me an ask) so I can share the drive link with you, where I upload HCTTR weekly ...for the people who want it, of course.
Hi! I directed another animated short film with my friends. It's called Burn-out.
This film tells the story of an artist called Rizzo, who creates mice with their magic. However, Rizzo quickly grows stressed upon seeing their friends creating much more bigger and prettier creatures. Rizzo must learn to love their art and their creative process and not to push themself to the breaking point. They must not burn themselves out.
The film is narrated by @dawniebb and is in spanish but you can turn on the subtitles on the video. We are really proud of it and I hope you'll enjoy it!
Hello! I’m sorry there was no chapter during Monday, but I was kinda busy so agshjagsh yeah :’) sorry for leaving you haning :’) But here we are again! Happy New Year everyone! I hope 2021 brings good things for you :’) I’m doing good so far <3 (kinda lmao).
When there was nothing left to do, Hugh told Simon to stop, even though he knew it wasn’t his fault, and that panic attacks weren’t something he could control or hold back whatsoever.
But it had never gotten this bad; he had never screamed this loud, nor hiccupped this hard, flickered this often or cried so much; it had gotten so, so bad, that by the time Hugh managed to get his hands on him, he almost felt as Simon’s life faded away, melted and self-destructed, all at the same time.
He tried to hold on to him, tight as he could, before he could just…drift away from his body, convulsing among hiccups and taking labored puffs of air. So labored, that it looked like he, genuinely, couldn’t breathe.
Because he couldn’t.
He couldn’t, and Hugh couldn’t do anything for him either, which made him feel absolutely useless and hopeless; so he held him, and told him to stop, despite knowing that wasn’t the best thing one could do in a situation like this; Hugh regretted everything. Every time he told him to stop and only made him scream more; he regretted hugging him and crying with him, because he felt he was making it about himself, which was something he didn’t want.
Hugh just wanted to help; he wanted Simon to get better…
But at the same time, he just wanted him to stop.
He wanted it to be over.
To stop feeling as if Simon were drifting away and there was nothing anyone could do to keep him here; but the attack, Simon’s pain and agony went on and on, forever.
“…Stop. Please stop.” Hugh begged, as he grabbed him by the wrists; but it didn’t stop.
It kept going and going…
And Hugh didn’t know what to do.
“PLEASE. PLEASE, SIMON. STOP!”
His body was going up and down so hard and fast thanks to his breathing, that Hugh could feel the motion into his own system and skin; how everything ached and burned, and how he just…wanted to take that pain away from him; maybe put it on himself; maybe throw it away; put it somewhere else but here; not on him; not inside him; not tormenting and killing him.
Stop. Please make it stop.
And Hugh tried to find away; one last try; one remaining way.
But Simon was a human being. He didn’t have an On and Off button; he couldn’t shut down just with a touch.
Stop.
Stop. Stop. Stop.
He had a face. A strangely proportionate face. With a small nose, small ears, a pair of pretty brown eyes…
And lips.
Small and, sometimes, dry and bitten lips.
And suddenly, a sudden urge filled him; a rush of energy, as overwhelming as it was frustrating.
Lips.
Hugh didn’t know what to do.
So he just did it.
He just placed his lips on top of Simon’s, over the salty taste of hot tears, and the flaky texture of Simon’s skin; trembling and warm; foreign, strange, and yet so familiar Hugh almost felt it like a dejà vú, of all of those times their lips had been close enough but hadn’t touched.
It was the oddest feeling.
But he was already kissing him anyways, for reasons not even Hugh himself could understand, with his arms wrapped around him, almost tight, but mostly gentle.
However, not quite as gentle as the hand over his chest as he, without prior notice, pulled away, and his eyes met Simon’s brown eyes, while Hugh gasped for air.
Through his own eyes, he saw Simon’s heart shattering and then falling into pieces, stabbing every other organ close to it; his eyes, full of shock and dread, were also shadowed by disdain and pain, looking at Hugh with such feeling of betrayal and astonishment that it didn’t even look like his Simon. For a second, he didn’t even look human.
Still looking straight into Hugh’s soul, he flickered one more time, though he didn’t seem to notice it this time.
“Simon.” He said, knowing what he had just done.
He had kissed him. Deliberately.
And this was the lowest he would ever fall.
But, before he could say anything else, Simon vanished.
-.-
Hugh barely got any sleep after that, so when the alarm went on, he dragged his feet out of the bed, feeling dizzy and disoriented. Needless to say, Simon wasn’t next to him, and in the other bed, which was a double bed that used to belong to Simon’s parents, he only found Kasumi and Evander; Evander, of course, pretended he hadn’t heard the alarm and placed a pillow over his head, groaning, but Kasumi got up immediately, although still half asleep, already tying her hair into a ponytail before heading to her drawers, blindly. Out of all of them, Kasumi was the one who showered in the morning because, due to the fact her schedule was pretty tight (she had to see the midwife after all) she claimed she preferred to do other things when she was home, instead of showering.
“Evander. Go on.” Kasumi started, her eyes still half closed, as she tried to get the pillow off Evander’s face. “Come on.”
So then, he finally got up, with a groan, massaging his neck. Maybe it was because he had never had that much space for himself in the bed and, so, he had slept in an awful position.
Perhaps Hugh would’ve done that too, but he was so used to Simon sleeping next to him, that his absence barely changed anything, and Hugh stayed in his side of the bed...being just there, of course. Sleepless. Feeling as if his lips were extremely swollen and burning with acid; somehow, he still felt Simon’s lips over his’. And that, in many ways, made him realize how much he had fucked up, and how he didn’t know how he was going to fix it this time.
Why, out of all things, had he done that?
“Can you go look for Georgie?”
He understood the part of wanting to help him, and wanting the panic attack to be over, but…
In full honesty, why a kiss?
“Hey, Hugh…”
There were so many ways to serve as an anchor for people, and just…kissing them wasn’t the only way.
One couldn’t just go and kiss their best friends because they were sad, let alone when those best friends were the same sex as you.
Why, Hugh?
Why?
“Hugh.”
He didn’t know how he was supposed to apologize for this, mostly because Simon’s stare had been so intense, and also so heartbroken for some reason; and, besides, his face had become completely deformed in…anger, or something close to anger, to the point Hugh couldn’t even recognize him, despite having spent most of his life with him.
He had fucked up, definitely.
And Hugh knew how to get out of situations he had gotten himself into, but this time a couple of lines (a lot of lines) had been crossed, and…
“Hugh!”
A pillow bumped into the back of his head; that, of course, didn’t hurt, but it did made his head swing forward because he was distracted. Then he turned around to face Kasumi, who was staring at him, mildly annoyed.
“What is it?”
“I asked you to go look for Georgie. I don’t know where she is.”
“Geor…”
Of course. Sometimes, Georgie would leave the bed and just…go walk around the house, alone, as a very light, alternative workout, but it made Kasumi (and Simon) very nervous.
“Yes. I’ll go…look for her.” Hugh snapped his fingers, trying to smile. “Yes.”
“Thank you.” Kasumi answered through her teeth.
When he left the room, Kasumi still stayed inside because, apparently, she was still looking for something among her drawers. And Hugh, if he wanted to be honest, was mentally prepared for passing through the house without looking up, in case Simon was sleeping on the couch (which he probably was).
However, when he walked upstairs and entered the living room, from the spot he was standing in, he saw both Simon and Georgie in the kitchen, making French toast (probably one of Georgie’s cravings); obviously, Hugh tried to find the strength to talk to any of the two, but his voice went inexistent, except the moment when Georgie, looking at him from above her shoulder, said:
“Hey, Hugh.”
“…Hey, Georgie.”
“Did you sleep well?”
He knew Georgie didn’t have bad intentions, because she rarely had bad intentions, but he would be lying if he said that hadn’t been a little bit…off. Or maybe it was the fact that she knew he hadn’t gone back to sleep after…what happened.
But she just wanted to be kind, and perhaps make it easier for both of them; for everyone in the house.
It didn’t work, though, because Simon didn’t even turn around to face him, pretending he was too busy removing some excess oil from a piece of bread using a napkin.
“Yeah, I…slept well, thank you. What about you?”
“Funny story…I mean, not funny, but still…” Georgie turned around, leaning against the cupboard and crossing her arms around her chest. “I was having really bad reflux and I wasn’t able to come back to bed; laying down doesn’t help. I don’t know, I might take a nap later. I’m pretty tired. But I’m also very hungry, so…”
Hugh couldn’t help but scoff.
He knew the reflux story was more likely a lie. She probably had stayed with Simon all night or something like that, talking to him, calming him down.
Hugh hoped she would take a nap for real.
-.-
When they sat by the table to have breakfast, they were surrounded by the most awkward silence they had had to face throughout their entire time living together (the awkward silences were getting better every time, weren’t they?); it was just them, sitting around the dining table, with an empty chair between Georgie and Kasumi and, in a strange phenomenon, Evander sitting between Hugh and Simon, as everyone minded their own business, avoiding to speak to the others if it wasn’t to ask them to pass the syrup, jam or whatever.
Hugh was eating his French toast totally plain, though, because somehow, he didn’t have the guts to ask for anyone to pass him anything.
Everyone knew what had happened.
Everyone knew Hugh had kissed another guy, and that guy happened to be Simon.
They probably thought Hugh was…
That.
And, to be honest, he wasn’t sure about how he would refute that.
After a short while, Georgie started picking at her third piece of toast which, probably, meant she had gotten full, despite having told Kasumi how bad she was craving French toast (Hugh had called it).
“You don’t want it anymore, do you?” Hugh asked, to which Georgie just laughed, poking the bread again with her fork.
“Not really.”
“I can have it, if you don’t want it anymore.”
Georgie didn’t hesitate before passing her plate through the table towards him, going back to her glass of milk afterwards.
Once that little interaction was over, silence came back to them, until the moment Simon cleared his throat, and every pair of eyes in the table, so desperate for human interaction, turned back at him, although he refused to stare back.
“I might skip work today; I’m running a fever, and I think…” He squirmed in his seat. “I think I’m catching a cold.”
“Really?” Kasumi asked, taking a piece of bread into her mouth.
“Yeah.” Simon answered, absently. “Nothing too serious; I mean, it could be allergies too.”
“So…you’re not going to the Headquarters.” Evander said, not as a question, but rather as an affirmation.
“Nope. Not today.”
And, well…
Simon wasn’t asking for permission either, not even to him.
He was just notifying them; and Hugh was absolutely no one to stop him.
-.-
The day was moderately busy; they got some emergency calls about some acts of vandalism and potential crime scenes. But, in the end, the most exhausting thing for him was the simulation.
Sasha, in very polite words, had been very insistent of the fact they were kind of dumb sometimes (“Distracted”, is the word they had used) so they had asked Hugh to make a sort of simulation, to make sure they had understood how to use the location devices. When Kasumi reminded them Simon wasn’t here at the moment, their answer was:
“Then we’ll do a second simulation when he’s here. I hope he gets better, though. Tell him I said hi.”
And they promised they would but, somehow, Hugh knew they would forget about it.
Today was not a regular day, just like the day after the Assault to Cragmoor hadn’t been a regular day, or the day they found out Georgie was pregnant…
And this.
This would later be referred as the day after Hugh kissed Simon.
Not that Hugh cared, particularly, but it was evident everyone in the house was siding with Simon, except Georgie…because Georgie never took sides with anybody, no matter what the problem was, and the severity of its nature.
Hugh didn’t consider himself to be in the position to judge anybody; Evander had been there the moment he had kissed Simon, and he had seen every cursed second of that kiss; Kasumi hadn’t had it much better than that, because she had entered the room just as…the thing was starting, after convincing Georgie to stay upstairs, in the couch.
Nevertheless, the fact they were siding with Simon did make it easier for them, because it meant they didn’t have any trouble going home to see him.
Hugh did. He had every possible trouble in the world when it came to going home to see him.
So, shamelessly, Hugh told Kasumi and Evander to go home by the time they decided it was time to do it, but he still remained wandering around the city for a while, in his civilian form, with nowhere to go in mind, nor anything special he felt like doing.
Until, at least, the pressure was too much.
Seeing pictures of himself around the city, in newspapers, televisions….and, basically, everywhere, was too much. It always was too much, especially today.
But, today, he also felt weirdly triggered by all the couples going through the streets; some of them were holding babies, others were holding each other’s hands…but the majority of them were…regular couples.
A woman and a man, loving each other the way Gatlon seemed to want Georgie and him to love each other.
They wanted that, and that wasn’t a secret; but while the citizens of Gatlon talked about how much of a great power couple Captain Chromium and Lady Indomitable would make, Hugh was out here kissing not Georgie, but Simon.
Without knowing why he had kissed him in the first place.
Hugh tried not to overthink it as he walked through the streets of the city but, apparently, his brain was all about overthinking today, and even when he decided it was time to go home, he decided to still make a stop.
The old subway station was barely functioning anymore, with the exception of two or three trains, but the vending machines inside the station, on the other hand, although a little old, were working as well as they could.
He went there, to that subway station where he had once stopped a train from crashing, before it exploded to the Detonator’s hands and, from one of the vending machines, he got a small strawberry milk carton.
However, still not knowing why, he got some Maltesers too.
-.-
When he arrived home, Simon was on the couch with Georgie, solving what seemed to be a crossword; when they saw him enter the living room, Georgie greeted him as always, but Simon refused to.
And while Georgie took the strawberry milk with a lot of enthusiasm, thanking him for remembering how much she liked strawberry milk, Simon just took the Maltesers and analyzed the bag, as if he had never seen something like it.
Then, pretending to smile, he said:
“Thanks. I’ll eat them later.”
Hugh knew he wouldn’t, of course, no matter how hard he tried to pretend he would.
-.-
They didn’t make dinner that day, for the simple reason Evander and Kasumi had eaten street food on the way home and were not hungry anymore, and Simon and Georgie had already had dinner, so Hugh just went and shoved his nose into the cupboard to look for something he could eat. However, when he tried to open one of the doors, said door just…broke, due to Hugh being unconsciously not in control of his powers at all.
And as he stood there, defeated, with the broken door in his hand, his eyes burned, but he refused to lose his dignity that way.
There were many other ways to lose his dignity, though… it was only that he had chosen not to do it that way now. Not again.
So, after wondering what was he supposed to do now, for some reason, his brain told him Simon would know what to do and, since it was something related to the well-being of the house and not him specifically, maybe he would be willing to help.
Hugh knew that was only a cheap excuse to go and talk to him…and, the worst thing was: He hoped it would work.
Except, it didn’t.
Because, by the time he went back into the living room, Simon was no longer there, just Kasumi laying on a blanket, on the floor, napping (or just sleeping. Maybe she wouldn’t wake up until tomorrow), while Evander sat with Georgie on the couch, talking to her as he played a videogame in his Nintendo.
Simon was nowhere to be seen.
But, if Hugh knew him well enough (and he did), then it meant he also knew where he was.
-.-
And, indeed, Hugh found Simon on the roof, just sitting there, staring and the infinite nothingness, and barely looking at Hugh through the corner of his eye when he sat next to him, in silence.
Waiting for something.
Anything.
A type of something that was unknown even for him, a person who claimed to always know what he was expecting: this time, however, Hugh knew Simon didn’t owe him anything at all.
Maybe he had never owed him anything.
Maybe Hugh owed him more than what Simon would ever owe him…and that didn’t entitle him with the right to go ahead and just…kiss him. For no reason at all.
“Hey, Si…”
“I can’t do this anymore.”
Their voices melted into one hurtful sound, but Simon’s voice became louder for Hugh, as he turned back at him, startled.
“What?”
“I can’t do this anymore.” He repeated himself, as firm as Hugh had ever heard him speak.
“It’s too hard. And too painful…and, let me tell you, I don’t know what I was expecting when we started…this thing, but it was definitely not this.” Simon scoffed in a rather painful way, as he ruffled his own hair.
“… I didn’t ask for this, Hugh.”
“Oh, Si…”Hugh tried to take his hand, or at least his wrist, or anything that could let him know he was still here, but Simon hugged himself, with his legs up to his chest, taking his whole body out of his reach.
“When my parents left…I wanted to have a family.” He said. “And you gave me a family. All of you; I wanted…to be free. I wanted all of us to be free.”
“And that’s why we started this, don’t you remember?” Hugh knelt down, almost desperate because, if there was something he knew at the moment, it was that he didn’t like where this conversation was going.
He wanted it to stop before it could collapse into the wall of inevitable possibilities; he wanted to stop it himself, just like he had stopped that train once.
“We…w-w wanted to be free. And make the world a better place, because there were people who believed in us. And we wanted them to be free. You wanted to…”
“I still do.”
Simon lowered his head, and then he stared at the front again, scratching his own knee.
“I want people to have someone who can save and protect them…but that person isn’t me.”
With that, Simon finally stared at him.
“A person who can save the world wouldn’t be so upset a part of their little broken family it’s gone; they wouldn’t be wondering how they will raise the life that is growing stronger inside of Georgie every day and, in a couple of months, they will be out and they will need to be fed, and receive medical attention and I…” Simon hiccupped.
But he didn’t cry.
“I love our cause; but a person who can save the world knows when to stop worrying about their own issues to put other’s needs on top of the pyramid…and that person is not me, Hugh.”
Hugh laughed, nervously and astonished. Almost confused. If there was a person on Earth who could do that, that person was Simon.
Because Simon was selfless and kind, and that’s the main reason why Hugh always thought he deserved better. He deserved better than this shitty city. He deserved better than this shitty system. He deserved better than his shitty parents. He deserved better, because people like him always deserved better, even if they refused to acknowledge it sometimes.
“But it is you, Simon.” He told him. “You’re…absolutely brilliant, and brave and you have so much goodness in you; you’re…exactly what this world needs. You’re a hero. You’re…a hero, yes; just like we wanted to be, remember?”
No response…and, if he wanted to be honest, Hugh was getting a little distressed. Desperate.
“Don’t you remember, Si?” He whispered in a hoarse voice, as he gulped.
“We all miss her.” He finally dared to say. “But…She would’ve liked us to finish what we started…and…and as for the baby…we’ll find a way. And stick together. Si, things will get better, we just have to wait.”
Something inside became sore, and Simon groaned, closing his eyes, tired.
“But I’m tired of waiting, Hugh!” He snapped, between hasty breaths.
Hugh felt as his world started to crumble inside of him.
“I already waited a lot and I’m…!” Simon scoffed, rubbing his face. “…I’m so tired.”
“Look at me, Hugh. I’m a mess.” He pointed at his own chest. “I’m a…nobody who is just seen as your sidekick, playing around with robes because they’re cooler than capes, pretending to be this…this….this hero persona that’s too big for me!”
“Simon…”
“I’m this nobody who speaks a lot for a person who has nothing to say and who is just…so done waiting for a collapsed world to change; waiting for people who just won’t listen to know his name and just…doing all of this while…”
He laughed, hugging himself tighter; his lips quivering, and his body rocking back and forth.
“…waiting for a person he’s hopelessly in love with and won’t love him back to just…notice him. To give him a sign that won’t ever arrive.”
Through Hugh’s ears, it sounded like static, as years and years of their story passed through his eyes like a movie, and millions of things made sense, as well as others still didn’t.
His words stabbed him like the sharpest knife as realization entered his system and poisoned every nerve and every bone inside of him, while Hugh went cold and speechless, hearing as this huge…secret of a lifetime escaped Simon’s mouth and ripped his heart out in the process.
“If you knew you didn’t love me like the way I love you, Hugh: Why did you have to go and kiss me?”
He tried.
But his throat was empty.
His head was blank.
His heart was broken.
“Why do you always have to make it worse, Hugh?”
And Hugh couldn’t help but wonder the same thing.
-.-
The one thing that Hugh remembered the most from the roof conversation, was the silence that came afterwards.
A cold, bone-chilling silence that went on and on for hours, until Simon got up and left him there, alone.
The roof conversation happened on a Friday night, and Simon left on a Sunday dawn.
To be exact, the next Sunday dawn.
And when Simon left, he took a piece of Hugh with him.
Because, from that day, his heartbeats felt like phantom pain, from an organ that was no longer inside his chest.
And Hugh promised, swore, with his lips still aching from a kiss that shouldn’t have happened, that he would never forgive himself.
Hello, guys! I hope you’re having a nice morning ( it’s very cloudy here! <3)
I don’t think I have much to say about this chapter except it’s like...where things start to get spicy asghssghja but it’s also a very personal chapter because the self-projection I put in it was insane and yikes :’). The Humon is also heavy but...yeah. Some of the things in this are based on personal experiences that I might explain in the future :’) (so pls be sensitive if you interact with this chapter asghafgash)
Also this is not a Honey chapter, but a Simon one, which means we’ll be having a trigger warning party today as well:
TW: ANXIETY, LOSS, ANIMAL ABUSE (It’s VERY mild and I don’t go into details about it but I’m listing it anyway), DESCRIPTIONS OF DEATH, PANIC ATTACK.
Simon started having trouble breathing one month after Tamaya went missing. His breathing always became bad when he was going through difficult or stressful situations. As his anxiety progressed, his lungs got more desperate for oxygen; there were times where his puffs of air were so labored, that his ribcage burned and ached.
When were you supposed to get over loss? Never. He supposed.
Or at least not yet.
It was exhausting, and Simon didn’t want to feel that way anymore; however, he also knew stopping himself from feeling it would make it worse. But feeling it was causing him severe burnout too, so it only made things a lot more confusing and difficult.
At this point, they had been called to identify so many bodies (that happened not to be Tamaya’s) Simon had become scared of death. Or, more likely, of the idea of his loved ones having to see different bodies just to confirm it wasn’t his’. He despised the idea, and it made him feel disgusted, to a certain degree.
It got to a point where Hugh saw himself in the need to ask not to call them if the body had no wings, but the explanation for this was the possibility of her acquiring the capacity to retract her wings out of trauma, for some reason…which, given the way prodigies worked, made a lot of sense, sadly.
That didn’t make it less traumatic, still. Watching all of those dead bodies, having to say “No, that’s not her”, and then leaving with the bitter feeling you had witnessed something you shouldn’t have, while carrying the contradictory thoughts about how this could’ve been Tamaya and that could’ve given them peace…but it hadn’t been, so they still had no idea of what had happened to her, nor did they have something physical to mourn or bury.
Simon didn’t wish that to anybody.
He wasn’t intending to come off as resentful or, again, bitter and mad, but at least the Anarchists had found Atomic Brain’s body.
At least they had buried him.
Them, the Renegades, hadn’t buried Thunderbird.
And given that a month had already passed, Simon doubted they would. On the contrary, they would just have to roll with it; with the idea Tamaya was gone forever, and her body was decomposing out there, somewhere, in poor and improper circumstances.
Listening to Georgie was also hard.
It wasn’t only the fact that her baby’s dad, like expected, had decided to leave, saying dating a Renegade was too much pressure, and that he wouldn’t know what to do if she ended up like Thunderbird. No. It wasn’t only that. In fact, Georgie had taken it in a pretty calm way, as she said (and she was right) that as long as her baby had her and all the people who did love it, nothing would be missing in its life.
However, when it came to Tamaya, it was a whole different story. Georgie talked about her as if she were still alive, and even though she claimed the opposite, everyone knew she was still a little mad at them for having publicly changed the search to a recovery mission.
“That will only hinder the search. They’ll stop looking for her if we tell them she’s dead.” She told Hugh that day.
And she was mad. Maybe she would be forever mad about it, but nobody dared to talk back. Not to her, at least.
Georgie was a grieving, busy, pregnant woman who was under a lot of stress, and was also trying to take a city out of another person’s hands while he publicly told her to stop every time he got an opportunity; needless to say, they were trying to make it easier for her, but even if they had convinced her to stay at home for the rest of the pregnancy, she was always insistent on how she wanted to help, while refusing to sit still.
“I didn’t get this far by being negligent.”
“You’re not negligent, Georgia. You’re pregnant.”
Every time they tried to convince her of that, she would stay calm for a couple of days, but then she would go back to being self-conscious. That was normal, Simon supposed, being a person who was scared of being useless himself, as well as hard to be convinced of the opposite.
So, it was safe to say Georgie was being sort of stubborn, but nobody blamed her for that; she was also very emotional lately, and they were doing their best to make her feel comfortable; even the smallest things, like doing the shores for her the day she was supposed to, asking her if she needed something, and allowing her walk Kasumi to the bus station for her to go see the midwife who was capacitating her, and then picking her up a few hours later (sometimes Simon followed her, while being invisible).
If he wanted to be honest, he was sure this time their best was not being enough at all, but everybody in the house was grieving differently, all while being too busy trying manage Gatlon.
Simon knew most of his intrusive thoughts were thanks to the stress and the (aggressive) emotional weight of it all, but he was starting to wonder whether this was worth it or not.
He knew they had their reasons to be mad at Ace Anarchy, just like he knew they had their reasons to try to take his regime down and save Gatlon by themselves; to clean the prodigy’s names and let people know that not every single one of them was like the Anarchists…
But Simon just didn’t know anymore.
He didn’t know if losing one of his closest friends while trying to save a city in which some of its citizens still claimed they didn’t want to be saved was worth it; he didn’t know if putting that weight on himself, while carrying with years old trauma and unrequited feelings was worth it.
He had no idea.
He really didn’t.
Yet, he was still trying, despite not knowing why.
He was still coming here every morning, risking his life for no immediate compensation besides social validation.
Because he didn’t want to give up just yet. He knew that maybe, maybe once all of this was over, he would realize it was worth it again. He knew the Simon from the past knew that.
However, Simon from the present was staring absently at the fresh dot of blood by the entrance of the Headquarters.
Out of routine, he came to the realization of what was happening even before walking in. By the time he arrived into the common room to pour the soluble coffee into the coffee maker, he saw Evander and Kasumi by the couch; Kasumi was holding a little bird, while Evander treated its wounds and Prism (The Glass Girl, who claimed she didn’t know her real name but preferred to be called that way. Prism) stared at them from a chair.
“Another one?” Simon asked, refusing to look at them.
“Yeah.” Evander said. “This one’s not as injured, though.”
For the last couple of weeks, the Anarchists’ supporters had been leaving injured or, in the worst of cases, dead birdies by their door, as an obvious and very insensitive way to mock what had happened to Tamaya, and the fact they were receiving pretty negative backlash from their own supporters due to the fact Hugh refused to hold a memorial and/or funeral for her, claiming there was no body to honor or bury (and he was right).
“Uhm.” Simon limited himself to answer.
Once he was done with the coffee, he proceeded to place the rest of the refreshments in the coffee table; today, it was his turn to bring them but, and he had no shame at all to admit it for some reason, he had forgotten about it; fortunately, he had had time to get out and go to the store to bring some stuff in the last minute (after almost begging the cashier to let him pay because giving free stuff to the Dread Warden was nothing but an abuse of power), though he would’ve preferred to make the refreshments himself, like all of them did.
But he had forgotten. And there wasn’t much to do about it.
He continued with his job and but, suddenly, he had to stop, when his throat felt tighter, just like his ribcage, and he had to lean forward against the table, trying to pull air into his lungs and coughing a little, until he felt like he had the sufficient amount of air to survive the next few minutes, and his system was filled with ephemeral relief.
“You still having trouble breathing?”
Simon tried not to roll his eyes when he heard Hugh’s voice right behind him. He hadn’t heard him come in, so, he supposed, then, that he had been too distracted to even pay attention to what was happening in his surroundings.
“Can you tell?” He answered anyway.
With that answer, Hugh walked next to him and took the cookie jar away from him, to sort that himself.
“I always do, Si.”
And, honestly, for a person who could always tell, Hugh was pretty much oblivious to almost everything about Simon.
Not that it mattered, anyway, because just as he was looking for an answer to that fallacy, the emergency alarm went on. And, in that moment, Simon couldn’t help but see it as a way to get his head out of the issue and focus on this, which was a valid and productive distraction.
“I got it.” He announced, before Evander and Kasumi could.
But, of course, things had to turn out horrible for Simon. Always.
“I could go with you if you want to.” Hugh said.
For some reason, Simon promised himself he would have the guts to reject this, because he knew it was something that would hurt and confuse him more than he already was; but when he stared at Hugh, his everything, from head to toe, something reminded him of how weak he actually was.
“Sure thing.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, that would be…great.”
Tamaya, Rest in Peace, would’ve told him to just stick to be a clown instead of becoming the whole circus. But Simon had become the whole circus long time ago.
-.-
At the end of the day, a routine task, that happened to be going after a suspect for a couple (a lot of) streets, didn’t relax him as much as he thought it would, because, by the time they moved him towards one of the prisons Hugh had built around the city, his ribcage was crying, and Simon was forced to lean his back against a wall, with both of his hands on his knees, coughing a little.
“Hey, buddy. Everything good?”
Simon coughed again, and Hugh hissed in response, grabbing him by the arm.
“Hey…”
That’s when, somehow, he finally managed to catch his breath, and he placed his hand on top of Hugh’s, without staring at him.
And, honestly, he didn’t know why he had done that, so he just…patted Hugh’s hand as he lied to his face, saying:
“I’m good.”
When he finally decided to look into his eyes, he realized that, in no way, Hugh believed him.
However, he still ruffled his hair while smiling at him, pretending he did.
-.-
A couple of hours after the persecution, all of them, except Georgie of course (because she was at home), attended a meeting they had scheduled two weeks ago, with some members of their team; the ones in charge of device development.
Sasha, the leader of that department (If it could be called that way in the first place), which was formed by 6 people, themself included, had no alias, nor did they seem to be scared of the wide repertory of problems not having an alias could bring.
Like the rest of the people who worked at the Headquarters, Sasha had volunteered to be there, and had also accepted to work for the Renegades in exchange of an irregular, not to say inexistent payment; they were a prodigy but, unlike what one would’ve expected, their gift wasn’t specifically related to technology. More likely, they were…very smart, and could capacitate themself for any job in a matter of days and even hours. Hence, they had the possibility to develop in any field, including the creation of devices.
And right now, they were standing at the front, holding a little device between their hands, as the rest of the team stood behind them.
“These are location devices.” Sasha explained. “As stated by their names, they’re meant to work sort of like a GPS. Right now, I’m talking about prototypes, of course, so they might not be at their full potential at the moment…but you’re supposed to place them in your belts.”
Sasha placed the round device into their palm and pushed the red button that was placed in the middle; a small hologram emerged from it, showing a blueprint of the space they were in at the moment, which showed a red spot with arrows around it, indicating Sasha’s exact location, and another three flickering lights right behind them, meaning the other members of the team had the other devices.
“If any of you happened to be in a dangerous place and/or the dispositive detects irregular activity or movements, the button will flicker and an alarm will go off; however, you can also send the emergency signal yourself by pushing the button three times in a row.”
Being that said, Sasha mimicked the action they had just described, and three alarms sounded behind them. The team members who had the others in their possession took them out, finally.
There were another three devices that looked exactly the same as the one Sasha was holding; grey, with a red button in the middle, and since Sasha had made their alarm go off, now they were flickering in bright red and making annoying “beep” sounds.
“When this happens, you just have to push the button to see where the distress signal is coming from.”
Another demonstration was made, and once the alarms went off, the devices’ holographic projections showed Sasha’s location.
“Sure, once we have more…resources, these will have a way more practical design. Bracelets, perhaps.” Sasha shrugged. “And we will try to add some other functions to them instead of just being location marks. But, given the situation, we thought that the lack of communication between you was hindering your capacity to successfully follow a pre-established strategy. This is what we need now. It’s a little…limited, but we’re sure it will prevent at lot of incidents.”
Kasumi was looking down, playing with her fingers.
At least Sasha was being…sensitive with their word choice.
Indeed, the lack of communication had been one of the main reasons why they had lost Tamaya in the first place; after all, she had been brought down by Queen Bee and, supposedly, the Detonator, but, later, they had come to the realization that there had been no need for her to follow Ace Anarchy’s car all the way to the lighthouse, because Georgie was safe and sound in their own car.
Tamaya’s death could’ve been avoided if she had had a way to know where Georgie was, and whether she was really in that trunk or not.
“Okay, but that’s like…so cool.” Evander said, trying to sound genuinely excited, although Simon could see he was only trying to light up the mood.
“It’s pretty clever and handy, indeed.” Hugh nodded, getting up from his chair, to which Sasha straightened their back, before handing the device to Hugh, who analyzed it for a while.
“In the belt, you said?”
“Correct.” Sasha nodded, crossing their arms over their chest. “And, like I said, we don’t have enough resources at the moment. We’ll build Lady Indomitable’s one once Baby Indomitable is born. It’s not like she can wear a belt right now.”
“She can’t even fit in her costume anymore, don’t worry about that.”
“Boo. Don’t be rude.” Kasumi said. “She’s not that chubby yet…her zipper doesn’t go up anymore but only for a few centimeters.”
She was… smiling, so Simon tried to smile too; this wasn’t the healthiest of situations; refusing to mention Tamaya’s name was not healthy for their grief process…
But, at this moment, if pretending she didn’t exist made them feel the tiniest bit better, then Simon guessed that it should be fine for a while.
Joking about Georgie’s baby was funnier.
“Either way.” Sasha said. “No pizza Fridays until we manage to save enough money for Lady Indomitable’s device. We should get, like, a piggy bank.”
“Two piggy banks.” Simon dared to speak. “That Baby Shower won’t pay itself, will it?”
Hugh snorted, while the rest of the people in the room laughed, including Kasumi, who, honestly, rarely laughed anymore.
“We should get her one of those embarrassing baby butt cakes so she hates us forever.” Evander said, still laughing.
“Ew, no! That’s super gory. Can you imagine being like “Hey, Lady I, I want that slice of cake that has a toe in it”, like, bro…”
“Sounds fun to me!”
This time, it was time for Simon to laugh, as they organized an imaginary Baby Shower for Georgie, and talked about how they would get money for it by organizing a talent show in which Hugh would just stand downtown and sing for hours, even though his singing voice was bad, not to use another word.
They had fun.
But, in the most counterproductive way possible, once the meeting was over (after spending almost two hours lollygagging around before going back to the main topic, which was the devices), Simon felt deeply depressed.
Because, out of all the people he knew, Georgie was the most…prone to want a Baby Shower; and lose her head over a baby butt cake because she thought it was adorable despite how ugly it actually was; she would’ve loved the balloons and the people rubbing her belly while all of them stared in the distance, way more annoyed by that than she was.
Georgie would’ve loved to have a cheesy Baby Shower.
But everyone knew that, due to their current economic situation, they couldn’t give her a Baby Shower.
-.-
That’s why, when they came home at night and she was waiting for them at the door, Simon barely managed to look at her in the eye, let alone greeting her with a hug and the kiss on the cheek she was lately demanding from all of them.
Evander was the less reluctant to do it and, today, he even “high fived” the baby (mildly touched Georgie’s belly) before heading towards the kitchen with the rest of them, while Kasumi stayed with Georgie in the living room, asking her about how had she been feeling throughout the day.
Then, they had dinner in the basement, which was still their shared bedroom, as they watched a movie they had already watched a million times before, without saying a word, besides those occasions where somebody dared to speak up to repeat the dialogues.
When the movie was over, Evander washed the dishes (even though he hated it as much as Hugh hated doing laundry) and came back into the room 20 minutes later, only for them to start getting ready to go to bed.
Simon didn’t consider himself ready to go to bed and get no sleep at all again, but he tried anyway.
He regretted it afterwards.
Because Simon regretted most of the things he did once he was done.
Today was no exception.
Of course not.
Over the last couple of days, when this “no sleep at all” cycle had started to get a little exhausting, Simon had thought about, in the most serious way possible, losing his remaining dignity and ask the rest of the guys to let him buy a nightlight, because this was a basement and, naturally, it was way darker than the rest of the house.
Simon was starting to think even the dark was a trigger for him, like a whiny little kid.
Maybe it was a little stupid, but he knew the dark reminded him of the depths of the sea, even though he had never been down there; but he knew that there was a huge possibility Tamaya had been.
She had been swallowed by the sea, and she had died down there, alone, and without air.
No air. Just water.
Miles and miles of water, as she fell deeper and deeper, unable to escape.
Every time the lights were out, Simon could feel her ghost haunting him, and he could feel the sea he had never been in suffocating him.
But, mostly, he saw her.
He saw her with every furniture creak. Yes. That must be Tamaya, staring at him from the dark, with an injured wing and covered in bee stings. So many bee stings it almost made him feel sick to his stomach; wet and dead.
He couldn’t explain how but…dead.
He saw her in every unknown noise. That must be her wails. That must be the echoes of her fluttering wings.
He saw her in the breeze by his feet; he saw her in Hugh’s breathing, which might as well not be Hugh’s; he saw her in the gap under the bed.
Tamaya was everywhere, and she was dead.
And every time Simon closed his eyes, he saw her falling, and he heard the buzzing.
He heard wails, and buzzing, and wails, and buzzing…
And it was a dream so vivid. And so horrible.
The buzzing of the bees suddenly turned into buzzing of bugs. Every type of bug.
Simon was standing in the distance, at Cragmoor, which was the same place where they had killed Atomic Brain; he saw a body, with wings, full of flies, and bugs, and ants, as the smell of rooting flesh filled his nostrils.
In the dream, which at this point he knew was a dream, he walked towards the body, even though he knew he shouldn’t; and he heard somebody gasping for air in the distance; and felt rain…or water. Or maybe blood.
Then, he knelt down, scared to the bone, and as he grabbed Tamaya by the shoulder and turned her around, an army of bugs ran away from her body; and she seemed to be staring back at him, decaying and so, so dead it was scary.
She was dead and full of bugs and he was touching her; and she was laying there, decomposing and just…dead.
Gruesome. Horrible.
Revolting.
And then The Detonator’s voice, asking if he knew the sound a cork made.
Clock.
Then they were back at Tamaya’s face, with the remnants of a horror expression, and her hands stiff, to the height of her chest.
Clock.
She was everywhere.
She was everywhere.
In this room.
Over Simon.
Next to him.
Under the bed.
In her side of the bed, next to Kasumi, as the sound of the flies surrounded her.
Standing in the dark, with her deformed, waterlogged face staring back at him, still dripping from the ocean waters.
Tamaya was everywhere, decaying and drowning in rooting and irreversible death.
Clock.
Clock, the Detonator said, as Tamaya’s silhouette went up, to the height of the sun, carrying Queen Bee’s body. And then her wing exploded.
In that very moment, Simon woke up with a gasp, his flickering body covered in cold sweat and his lungs aching for air.
His heart pounded, making his body, literally, convulse, as his hand wrapped around Hugh’s arm.
“H—“ He blinked, and he saw her. And he felt and smelled her rooting flesh. “Hu—“
Clock.
And Simon took his hands to his face, so hard he was pretty sure he had slapped it.
Then, he screamed.
He screamed from the top of his lungs, feeling as he lost control over everything and the world spun around him.
“SIMON! SIMON, WHAT IS IT?! WHAT’S WRONG?!”
“DARLING, WHAT’S WRONG?! WHAT’S WRONG?!”
The light was on, and once Simon saw Hugh had moved, he crawled, desperately, though he didn’t know what he wanted to accomplish with that.
Hugh grabbed him before he could hit the floor when he fell from the bed, and then he held his forehead as he spitted his dinner right into the floor.
Simon screamed.
He screamed so loud he could hear himself as if he were looking at the scene from the outside, as Hugh said unintelligible things and Evander stood in the corner of the room, biting his nails.
He screamed, and whimpered, and shook, and lost control until he was nodding and aching and burning and wanting to get out of his body.
It had never been so severe.
It had never been like this.
But just like he thought he couldn’t get worse, his lungs shut down on him. He gasped, desperately, for air, with a hand by his chest, which went up and down as he spun around his own body, trying to get into a fetal position, before Hugh grabbed him before he could.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”
There was no air.
No air.
He was suffocating.
He was dying.
He was in flames.
He was drowning.
All at the same time.
No air.
“SIMON, STOP!”
Simon gasping became more fast, this time accompanied by groaning, and screaming, and crying and hiccupping.
“SIMON! ... SIMON!
Everything was burning.
His heart was going at full speed.
It was going to get tired eventually.
It was going to stop, because he couldn’t breathe.
“SIMON, STOP!”
He tried to look at Hugh, but couldn’t, because the vessel of tears was too thick.
“STOOOP! STOP IT! CUT IT OFF! SIMON!”
And then, Simon swore he had heard a sob. A sob that wasn’t his’.
And he felt a hiccup that wasn’t his’, from the person who was the closest to him.
“…Stop. Please stop.” Hugh grabbed him by the wrists. “PLEASE. PLEASE, SIMON. STOP!”
His body was going up and down so hard thanks to his breathing, that he could feel his muscles ache, along with his ribcage and belly hurting.
He wanted to stop.
He wanted it to stop.
He wanted…
It stopped.
It stopped as a “beep” sound filled his ears, and as hot tears ran more aggressively down his cheeks; and as liquid dripped down his nose and hit his lips.
The same lips Hugh was touching with his own.
Hugh.
Hugh Everhart, his Hugh, the boy who was everything, and the boy he was in love with, was kissing him, with his own face soaked with tears, and his eyes shut close, as he wrapped his arms around Simon.
As if he really loved him.
As if he meant it.
With a small touch in the chest, Simon pulled away, and Hugh’s blue eyes met him, as he gasped for air.
“Simon.” He said, as if he didn’t know what he had just done.
He had kissed him. Deliberately.
And this was the lowest he would ever fall.
So, before he could say anything else, Simon vanished.
If you celebrate Christmas, I hope you had an excellent time! and if you don’t, then I hope you’re doing excellent as well, and that you had a good time if you celebrate anything in these dates <3
I ate a lot and got a bitchy jacket (?). And I also walked downtown to get last-minute Christmas presents and the street smelled like chicken and tamales (#Mexico, guys). But yeah, I hope you’re doing fine now :3 <3 this is the first chapter for the third season, and yay :’) I really hope you like it <3 I’m sorry the last one was left in a cliffhanger x’D
Georgia was taken straight to the Headquarters after the incident.
A group of healers surrounded her as soon as Hugh stepped inside the building, cradling her in his arms; however, Simon was the one who stayed with her, just like he had been the one who drove with her in the backseat, wiping her sweat with a piece of cloth, telling her everything was going to be alright and encouraging her to breathe with him…which, Georgie did.
After a while.
She had never had a panic attack before. Ever. Simon had them…very often, and they tried to help him, but it seemed like, at the end of the day, the person who could help him the most was himself, although he said their support did help a lot; Georgia didn’t understand what he was trying to say until she realized that, through the fog, she could still feel Simon’s hand, and she could still hear Simon’s voice, calming her down and reminding her he was here.
Then, when the sound of her baby’s heartbeat filled their ears, they cried together. And Georgia realized that, maybe, she wouldn’t have been able to do this alone. Not without absolutely losing her mind, at least.
Because, yes, when the incident happened, she had her first ever panic attack and then she heard her baby’s heartbeat.
But once everything was settled down, or at least the tiniest bit less chaotic, Georgie received the news from Hugh.
Nobody saw her when she escaped Ace Anarchy’s car; and, since nobody saw her, naturally, they went after her.
Tamaya went after her.
And when Tamaya went after that car with an empty trunk, she got into a fight with Queen Bee.
And when she got into that fight with Queen Bee, she lost.
And when Tamaya lost, she fell from the sky.
Or at least that’s what the witnesses said.
Tamaya appeared in front of the late afternoon sunlight, holding Queen Bee by the arms, and she held her position for a couple of seconds, before falling, deeper and deeper, into the ocean.
Queen Bee resurfaced, thanks to Ace Anarchy, but Tamaya didn’t.
It was the morning after Tamaya fell from the sky, and she wasn’t home yet.
When Georgia learned what had happened, she was confronted by a very defeated Hugh, who talked about the event as if it had already been confirmed they had lost one member of their team, due to the fact a search party hadn’t been held last night, for Kasumi was in such an awful state she couldn’t even get a hold of herself and the sea had gone crazy, when she, herself, lost her grip, which was not good.
They all talked to her about Tamaya as if she were already dead, but Georgie refused to get on that boat.
Tamaya had gotten into that fight trying to protect her and her baby, not knowing whether Georgia was actually inside that trunk or if she was alive whatsoever. Which meant, basically, that Tamaya hadn’t given up on her.
Georgia knew Tamaya was stubborn. And very strong. And resilient. And she had been willing to trade her life for hers.
Georgia wouldn’t give up on her unless they found a body.
Something in her heart told her that they couldn’t give her up just yet, without even trying first; they had to try, and look for her. Alive.
She had eagle eyes, too, which meant she had a really good sight. Maybe she had some trouble trying to see at night but, as far as she knew, the sun was going down when she fell. It wasn’t dark yet. And, if Georgie knew Tamaya well enough, she had used that last bit of light to find a safe place to hide, injured and everything. Maybe she was in a cave, or a small island or something like that.
They had to try.
They had to look for her.
Somehow, she managed to get the team’s morals up, but they still didn’t allow her to look for Tamaya from up in the sky; surprisingly, the situation hadn’t caused her any trouble; her baby was still healthy, and she hadn’t asked to be bedbound; nevertheless, the healers did advise her to just quit doing rough work during the rest of the pregnancy (and she would, because she had underestimated the danger, and that had been her mistake, for which she would later apologize to Tamaya just like she had apologized to the rest of the team). Furthermore, she would have to stick to being a not so active, but useful, part of the search party.
She was fine with it. After all, she was helping. And help was something they needed at the moment.
With a sigh, Georgia touched her belly, and once she felt ready, she put her headphones on, trying to ignore the fact she was very uncomfortable in her costume, as it was still a little damp for not having been in the dryer long enough before she had to leave to the Headquarters.
None of that mattered now, she supposed, as the signal that notified her she was being broadcasted appeared in the screen.
And, despite being worried and, for the first time in forever, a little nervous, Georgia directed a sideways smile at Gatlon.
“This is Lady Indomitable talking to you from the Gatlon Renegades Headquarters, to announce the start of the intensive search for Thunderbird, who went missing yesterday, 19:30 in the afternoon approximately; volunteers for the search are being accepted, although each group will have a limited number of people; in case of wanting to join, you can dial the numbers from the Headquarters or personally approach the Renegades who, at the moment, are gathered by the shore.”
She stopped to breathe.
“I will be giving you the updates; please let Thunderbird come home.”
-.-
Kasumi’s head was throbbing.
She could feel the pulsations all over her, and it was starting to drive her crazy, to the point she hadn’t even been able to tie her hair in her signature ponytail without feeling her brain was about to explode.
She hadn’t eaten, either. Or slept.
Overall, the only thing Kasumi could recall doing in the last few hours, was crying, and listening to Georgie’s motivational speech that sounded so much like gibberish Simon had to translate it for her later, as he advised her to sleep a little.
Kasumi didn’t take the advice, though; that’s why she hadn’t been allowed to direct a search party; according to Hugh, she barely could take care of herself at the moment, let alone other people.
However, Hugh hadn’t had much trouble having her here, conducting her own, individual, one person search party...in sync with them, of course.
Perhaps the fact nobody but her could get that deep into the ocean without drowning in the process (given that water masses responded to her will) played an important role in his decision, and it made sense in Kasumi’s exploding head.
Gosh.
It really felt like her brain was about to explode inside of her head.
And she was so tired and lost, that Hugh’s voice, giving instructions at the distance, sounded like a faint echo, as Kasumi knelt down on the sand and looked forward.
The huge, untamable sea greeted with the grace and beauty Kasumi was yet to find anywhere else, and she imagined her Tamaya; the body that slept next to her and accidentally shoved her feathers into her face; the hand that held hers just to feel something, in her darkest times; the eagle eyes that stared at her during battle sometimes; the out of tune voice that sang her to sleep during hard nights, when Georgia wasn’t available; the sister Kasumi never had.
She imagined her there, injured and vulnerable, falling into the savage and ruthless ocean waters; in a mass of untouchable fluid that was so massive it made everything else look incredibly small. Including her.
Including Tamaya.
Where was she supposed to start looking? Kasumi didn’t know.
But she placed her hand on the sand and lowered her head, as the waves touched and tickled her fingertips; Kasumi, then, felt her gift connected to the water around her, but when she looked up, she realized how…
Big. Gigantic. Enormous this was. And how heavy this situation was on her shoulders.
The dizziness hit her like a wrecking ball, which flown towards her and punched her body with such violence Kasumi thought she would pass out right there.
But she didn’t, because she had to find Tamaya first, although she didn’t know how.
It didn’t matter.
Kasumi had already found her once.
She would find her again.
-.-
Honey woke up in the early morning, screaming from the top of her lungs.
That hadn’t been a surprise; after all, healers did say she would wake up; but when she did, not even the previously provided medicine stopped her from being in the middle of one of her psychotic attacks.
She had been under a fair amount of stress, and a victim of one of Alec’s own attacks. After they decided they had seen enough of Tsunami’s meltdown, Leroy grabbed Ingrid by the arm (because she didn’t look okay) and they started heading towards Alec’s car. However, when Leroy opened the backseat door, gesturing for Alec to try to lay Honey there, he refused to.
Not that he verbally refused, in the condescending way he was used to decline things. He just kept walking. And he kept walking and walking, with an unconscious Queen Bee in his arms, and her head resting on his shoulder, so it wouldn’t hang down.
Leroy and Ingrid followed him in the car, illuminating his way from behind. People watched, startled, but nobody said anything.
Alec arrived to the cathedral by foot, taking his sweet time, and once they were there, he just stood still, staring at the building, then back at Honey. A scene so surreal that, eventually, caught the attention of some of the people inside. The healers surrounded them immediately, but it was David’s wife who had the decency to bring a blanket with her so Honey would have some dignity.
They tried to reanimate her traditionally, on the floor, for a couple of minutes, before a healer straight up manipulated her organs so her heart would beat again.
No wonder why she had woken up screaming.
By the time Leroy arrived into her room, she was already back on the bed, curled up into a fetal position, shaking and crying, and Alec was by her side, holding her face against his chest and reminding her it was over; still, it took her a couple of minutes (almost an hour) to recover. And after that, she became numb.
And Alec was busy, so Leroy had been left in charge to take care of her, which was annoying, to say the least, because taking care of recovering Honey was like taking care of a bratty kid stuck in a hospital room against their will; she didn’t like IV cannulas, nor did she like wearing moo moo gowns, or wheelchairs.
She didn’t like anything, like a problematic mom from the suburbs. Because, when Honey didn’t like something, she was very vocal about it. She had to mention how much she hated being put through that every two seconds. Otherwise, she would die or explode or something.
Leroy didn’t like to take care of her. Not under these circumstances, when she was sick.
At least drunk Honey was funny and cursed a lot. Sick Honey was plain annoying and whiny, to the point where she bordered on unbearable. She even refused to eat or drink anything; not to mention she also insisted on doing dumb, suicidal things like walking to the bathroom on her two feet and getting in there alone, door locked and everything; there had been an occasion when David, who was slow as a sloth, had gone to bring her some aspirin while taking care of her, and when he came back she was already locked in the bathroom, taking a shower by herself.
Leroy rarely allowed that, unless she got very insistent and he just wanted her to shut up. However, that didn’t make the experience of taking are of sick Honey less unpleasant.
Today, it wasn’t being much different. Except, this time Leroy was half aware she probably just wanted attention; so, while Honey complained, he tried to focus on other things, like going through his mental list of tasks (writing that down on paper was for the weak), thinking about things he needed to tell Alec or counting Honey’s wounds.
Yes.
Apparently, where everyone else saw a woman; a normal person, that is; Thunderbird saw a piñata; the Renegade had beaten the living shit out of Honey. Everything and everywhere, including her dignity, although she claimed that not her pride, because she hadn't stopped teasing her until the last second.
Leroy would've believed her if somebody had confirmed it, but the only ones present at the scene had been Honey, Ingrid and Thunderbird.
Honey was in a bed looking as if somebody had used her to wipe the floor; Ingrid had been lucid for a moment, but by the time she arrived to the cathedral, she couldn't remember anything that had happened at the lighthouse (it seemed to be she had hit her head pretty hard back in the car, so now she was recovering from a mild head injury) except Captain Chromium's face and Honey levitating towards Alec's arms; and Thunderbird…
Thunderbird hadn't made it. At least that's what the news were saying.
Different versions of the event were being provided to the citizens of Gatlon. In the majority of them, they said Thunderbird had lost control over her wings for some reason, which was dumb because she wasn't a vehicle. She was a human being with different physical features due to her gift (that was something Alec himself had to clarify sometimes, despite his hatred towards the Renegades) ("Still prodigies, Cyanide."). Leroy knew, by analyzing the scene, that it's not that she had lost control of her wings nor her gift whatsoever; she had thousands and thousands of bees blocking her vision, was standing in front of the burning, blinding sun while holding a barely conscious adult woman and, since that hadn't been enough to kill her, Ingrid had sent an explosion towards her.
"She didn't scream." Honey said when she first woke up, after she recovered from her crisis. "She just fell. But it hit her wing. I'm pretty sure about that. I heard it. Then I passed out again.”
So Thunderbird, injured and covered in bee stings, had fallen straight into the ocean waters.
In Leroy's (non-professional) opinion, she was obviously dead, but the Renegades were in the denial state of grief, so, at the moment they had a search for their fallen peer going on, with Lady Indomitable providing updates from the Renegades Headquarters and the rest of the Renegades conducting search parties; all of them except Tsunami, who was searching through water by herself, looking essentially unhinged, with her hair down and stumbling through the waves as if she had never rode (or held) one.
"They're looking for her." Honey told him, stirring the bowl of sugarless oatmeal, but not taking bites from it. "Alive."
It wasn't a question, and Leroy knew that. But, even if it wasn't a question, she was looking for confirmation of the statement.
"Looks like it." Leroy answered.
Honey scoffed, too weak to properly laugh at other people's tragedies, that she had caused herself.
"Somebody told me once…" She started. "A gift makes favors, not miracles."
Leroy remained still, arching his almost gone brow.
"Who told you that?"
Honey took a bite from the oatmeal. Finally.
"You did."
-.-
Leroy woke up with a gasp for air.
The moment his eyes opened, he felt the familiar and comforting pounding inside of his chest; a sign that his heart was starting to pump blood through his body again, making his stiff limbs recover mobility, and making his brain, which had always been his greatest weapon, function again.
Through the confusion of it all, the only thing Leroy knew was that he shouldn't have been alive.
Mostly because, a few minutes ago, he was dead.
Dead people didn't come back to life unless…
Oh.
Realization hit him, but with realization came denial.
People at home were not believers. Any of them. However, Leroy had heard people speak about spirituality, because he actually interacted with people even if it didn’t seem like it sometimes.
Perhaps Leroy was still dead, and this was the afterlife. Because perhaps there was such thing as the afterlife, and Leroy was to become a wandering spirit for eternity because he hadn't been good enough to make it into Heaven.
For some reason, he tried to convince himself of that, for the mere reason he didn't feel like facing the truth yet.
It wasn't until a few minutes later, when the feeling of his body being so scrunched up in such a tight space, that Leroy had to come into terms with the fact he was alive.
Then his lungs started demanding a greater amount of air, and he forced himself to move; his hands touching his surroundings produced a sort of metallic sound, which created and echo that went and went, farther every time.
The vents.
Struggling, Leroy tried to move, although that only made his knees tighter against his chest, which caused him to feel more suffocated.
Still, somehow, he managed to get one of his arms out of the knot they had tied him into and touched the door.
It was locked.
But, unlike he expected, that made him mad and frustrated; he wanted to get out of here. He wanted to…
Leroy felt something.
Something that burned, and that it was coming from him. From the center of his chest, and flowing through his body, like the blood his heart pumped.
Leroy stared, in horror and through the dark, how a strange looking substance dripped from his fingertips.
The vent door melted at his will; at the substance that was coming out of his fingers.
He was one of them.
He was screwed.
But, in the strangest of phenomenon, he couldn't have cared less at the moment.
Desperate, Leroy crawled outside of the claustrophobic grave some idiots had forced him into (these people didn't know how to hide a body, did they?) and then he laid on the gym's floor, gasping.
His face was pulsating, and now that he was more aware of his surroundings and his own self, Leroy could feel the several aching wounds by the right side of his face, burning to the contact with sweat.
As he just stayed there, unwilling to move and unwilling to think straight, until the memories came back to him.
The chemicals burning his body; his own voice filling his ears, begging them to stop.
Stop, he said. Stop. You must stop.
Please.
I'm dying.
But they kept going and going and going.
They should've stopped.
Why hadn't they stopped?
-.-
When he was just starting to get in his focus zone, Leroy heard a shrill scream, which was followed by the faint sound of David's cooing voice.
It was still weird to think of David as a married man and a father, just as it was weird to think of Alec as an uncle.
"Nova" was such an extra name. That’s why Leroy preferred to refer to her as Little Jean in his mind.
Funny to think he had never seen her.
He knew she lived here, under his same roof, but he hadn't attended the dinner Alec held when she was born. He wasn't that big of a fan of social gatherings. He had never been.
Besides, the mental image of a newborn baby among people like them was… Comical, but also weird.
Deep down, also, Leroy didn't want Little Jean to be freaked out by his scars. She was far too young to understand people had scars. And far too young to understand the weight her uncle had in the world.
She was a baby, after all.
It was weird to think of a baby in Ace Anarchy's cathedral. To think both her parents were there, and that half of David's room had been turned into a nursery for a baby Leroy refused to meet.
Not that he purposely refused; more likely, he hadn't attended the dinner and, ever since that dinner, David and his wife had managed to keep their baby at a low profile; sometimes they allowed Alec to spend time with her, and there were times when David was too busy and his wife was too tired, so Honey babysat Little Jean, claiming having assisted the birth made her entitled to be her Godmother, because Honey liked to have babies at her care, perhaps, for a couple of hours, and then give them back to their parents.
Just like Leroy with her. He liked to have her around for a while and then give her back to Alec. Though, at the moment, Alec was not with her.
In fact, Leroy didn’t know who the hell was taking care of Honey. And he knew the right thing to do was to go and check on her.
He would do so, but maybe later, when he was finished with the explosives Alec had asked him to make.
The problem was that, indeed, this wasn’t a good nor a regular day because, suddenly, Leroy heard David’s voice getting closer, along with the crying baby, which meant he was probably walking through the hall to calm her down. While Leroy made explosives in his room. But this was his job, while Little Jean was only disturbing the peace because she felt like it.
No time for feeling guilty today so, in order to stop being distracted by that, he turned the radio’s volume up.
Only for Captain Chromium’s voice to fill his head.
And he sounded so...oddly destroyed that he couldn’t help but look up to the radio, even if he knew that wouldn’t help at all, because he couldn’t see Captain Chromium, just listen to him.
“...yeah. Yesterday, we were not under the best weather conditions, so the search had to be called off, but we’re looking for her again, and we’ll keep looking. People are being really supportive and we are, honestly, very grateful for that. In a couple of minutes, we’ll send some of our volunteers home so others can come in and help...which, by the way, you can volunteer by dialing the Headquarters, or personally approaching me or any of the Renegades.”
“So you’ve been here all day.”
“Yes. We’ve been here all day.”
“That must be tough. Aren’t you hungry?”
That didn’t sound right.
At all. Not even for a person like the one Leroy was, with such a bitter sense of humor. That meant that, for him, it had clearly been a joke, but a very insensitive one, given the fact they were looking for a dead person while denying she was dead.
Still, Captain Chromium laughed, as confused as Leroy had been a couple of seconds ago.
“Yeah. I guess. I guess we’re all hungry and...Extremely tired. But we’re not giving up on her.”
Evidently. And Leroy respected that, though he didn’t understand it.
-.-
When he finally decided to get up and leave through the backdoor of the school, Leroy walked home, with only the moonlight guiding his way, both of his hands into his pockets, and his gaze fixated on his feet.
He walked, of course, by routine, watching the cars pass by and trying to read the same street signs through the dark; when he started getting close, it was almost as if his feet refused to cooperate with him, dragging themselves through the pavement, although Leroy was trying to lift them up.
Then, he finally got home, and when the door gave in to his hand, sadly, his arrival didn’t go unnoticed.
Standing there, by the door, Leroy heard rushed footsteps.
And then, there they were.
Rhonda appeared first, cellphone in hand, and still wearing her work uniform; when her gaze met Leroy’s, her eyes went wide, and Leroy saw the moment when her anguish found sudden relief. So much relief, that it was even overwhelming.
Claire appeared second, still wearing her uniform too. But, instead of going speechless, she uttered a broken yet hopeful:
“Leroy.”
When he heard her voice, Leroy realized that, before this moment, he hadn’t expected to hear it again.
And, suddenly, he sniffed.
“They killed me, mom.”
“Who?”
“Who did that to you?”
Both answered, responding to the term “mom”.
Yet, despite them understanding and not wanting him out of the house immediately, Leroy couldn’t speak, and he just stiffened his hands inside of his pockets, while looking down, at his dirty tennis shoes, that were getting a little wet by now.
“They killed me, mom.” He repeated.
“They killed me.”
So Claire and Rhonda stayed with him for the longest time, in the old couch by the living room, comforting him and promising him they weren’t going anywhere, as Leroy curled up in a ball at Rhonda’s lap, and Claire sat on the floor, grabbing his hand, shaking with him as if his pain were their own.
They both got scars from that, because they were dealing with a prodigy who hadn’t yet learned to control his powers.
Rhonda, one in each knee and one in her chin; Claire, one in each hand and one in her cheek.
They didn’t give a fuck about that.
Leroy never understood why.
-.-
During dinner, the rest of the Anarchists updated him on what was happening around the Thunderbird issue. Apparently, since it was getting dark outside but both the citizens and the Renegades were refusing to give up on her, the search was moved outside of the beach, looking into places near it; places she could've used for hiding, but also places she wouldn't.
They had reached their limit, where even the most impossible scenarios where possible, for the sake of having an outcome that wasn't as horrible as the circumstances were pushing it to be.
"Why would a creature as huge and recognizable as Thunderbird hide in a motel by the edge of the road?" Animan asked, scoffing. "They're talking nonsense now. They're losing their mind."
"It's not that, really. They just want to believe it's so, so it doesn't hurt." Ingrid answered.
Just like Honey, she had been treated by a prodigy healer, meaning that, after a while, her wounds would be completely gone. But right now, they were still there; half of her face was completely beaten up. The skin from her cheek going up to her blood injected eye, and swollen lips.
"They're not gonna find her until she floats. And even so, her body might drift away and get lost."
-.-
The day Leroy thought he was going to get killed for a second time, during a shooting against prodigies, he stayed in his room and took a nap, waiting for somebody to come and kill him.
The moment he fell asleep, he knew he wouldn't wake up.
But he did.
And he woke up in the most annoying way possible, with a loud bang on the door, which made him jump up, shifting into a sitting position almost immediately, as the banging continued.
Why couldn’t killers just be silent, a little more observant, and a little less dumb?
The door wasn’t even locked.
“It’s a pull door.”
His voice, in that moment, was met with silence; Leroy narrowed his eyes, confused, as the door creaked open.
And when he had a clearer visual, he realized that, if he had any opportunity to make it out alive of this one, that opportunity had vanished from existence in that very moment; that moment when he met Honey Harper’s gaze, not alone.
No. Of course not. Honey Harper was never alone; right there, leaning his whole body weight against her, was Alec Artino, gasping and groaning in pain.
-.-
The next time Leroy turned the TV on, Lady Indomitable's face was shoved on him; but this time she didn't look brave, nor full of hope or… Like Lady Indomitable.
Leroy didn't know her enough, but even he could notice the red eyes and hoarse voice were not her.
This was like looking as life abandoned somebody's body.
"I am here to announce that the search for Thunderbird has officially turned into a recovery mission. However, this doesn't mean we're not open to possibilities or that all our hope has been lost."
But it had, hadn't it?
"Our lines are available and open for any possible clues or sightings; for reference, Thunderbird was wearing her uniform at the moment of her disappearance; her most noticeable physical trait are her non-retractable wings, black, with yellow tips; she was also…" Lady Indomitable's voice broke. "Potentially injured."
Then, she stopped.
And, for a moment, she hesitated, playing with her fingers, until she looked up again, gulping.
"Please let Thunderbird come home to have a proper recovery or, in the worst of cases, a proper burial; Thunderbird has become a hero to the city, but before a hero, she's a friend, a sister, and her own individual. If you're not going to help us for Gatlon or our cause, then do it for her. "
Even when the transmission was over, Leroy still stared at the screen, which was now showing an old sitcom.
And he just stared, thinking about what this woman, this pregnant woman, who had the guts to try to take down Ace on a daily basis and refused to give up on someone who was evidently dead, had just said.
And thinking how, somehow, it made sense.
But perhaps not in the way she wanted it to make sense.
-.-
"I'm gonna give you some of my contacts so you can find a new place, because you cannot longer stay here, David."
"... Is Alec kicking us out?"
"No. I am. This is no place for a baby to be."
-.-
And they left and took her with them.
Yet, Leroy kept hearing the echoes of her wails for days.
A prodigy, essentially. Because nobody had been observant enough to realize Tala had stopped going comatose once Little Jean was out of her body.
When the wails didn’t stop, Leroy came to the conclusion he missed her.
But, again, he didn't understand why.
Maybe he wasn’t meant to understand at all.
Some people were just dumb, and there was nothing more to it.
Headcanons about physical and mental conditions (RENEGADES + ANARCHISTS)
Hiiii! Are you wearing pink? :) *eyes emoji*
TW: PHYSICAL AND MENTAL ILLNESSES.
So, like I said, before posting the 3rd season of HCTTR, I wanted to post some like...additional stuff (?) and the thing is...I thought this was important lmao. Throughout the story, I’ve...consciously or subconsciously lmao, portrayed the characters in a way they are coded with certain conditions. These are all headcanons, of course, but they’re present in the story and I thought it was important to share it because, 1: I like to headcanon stuff like this (I also like to headcanon heights and birthdays x’DDDD), 2: I thought it would be interesting, and it’s very important for me to you know why am I making certain characters act the way they do, besides their personality and their morals.
And abshna okay, so, there’s going to be a small...hiatus? Between seasons, for extra content :) And, today, I decided to upload another chapter of So They Were Hope (”Samuel and Ginger Had a Son” was the first one I posted) because, like I previously mentioned, So They Were Hope is like HCTTR’s Stars Above x’DDDDDD. So yeah.
You might need this one to understand the following chapter better :) but, I must admit, it’s not new X’D it’s a re-upload from my main @dawniebb but I deleted all my fics from there, so...yes. We’re moving Viva La Revolución to So They Were Hope :) I hope you like it and I hope that you’re having a nice day <3
When the shooting started, Leroy Flinn knew he would die today.
He started wondering, then, what was a person meant to do in a situation like this; he wondered, also, what the others were doing; others like him.
Prodigies, like Leroy himself, who knew they would die today.
Alec Artino, from Social Sciences, saw himself as a visionary; as this woke entity who desired and craved change; a revolutionary. Viva la revolución.
To Leroy, he just looked like a guy who had smoked too much weed and was going to get all of them killed with his delusions.
He was kind of delusional, yes; just another struggling prodigy out of the bunch, with a very wide lexicon, the manners of a rich gentleman from the past century and a thick Italian accent that made his voice sound strangely eerie (in the good sense); these days, stating you had no idea of who the hell Alec Artino was, had the same effect as saying you lived under a rock.
His face was shoved in everyone’s lives like the air they breathed or the ground they walked; the headlines referred to him as a “prodigy activist” , but the highest authorities often talked about him as this...insane college student who wanted all this attention for an unknown reason; some others liked to highlight the fact he had come from Italy, which had...no relevance at all (to Leroy’s particular point of view) but the point here was that…
Alec Artino was…
Something.
A trend.
An individual who claimed to be the voice of the prodigies, and claimed to be fighting for the rights they had been denied from the moment they were put in a world that was meant to promote their deliberate exclusion.
To be honest, it sure looked like he was trying. But him trying wouldn’t make them less dead after today, would it?
The worst part of it all, was that the riot around the campus had started like any other normal riot, but things got out of control when Alec stated it was time to make things go wild, and what was meant to be a peaceful riot turned it into a violent one; and since the rioting groups were formed mostly by prodigies, the college authorities didn’t hesitate before making a huge deal out of it.
Suddenly, the whole campus was surrounded by patrol cars, cops and military platoons, given that, when it was about prodigies, people didn’t care about how many of them died.
They did, however, care about how many non-prodigy civilians died, so when things started getting bloody, those types of civilians, the ones people actually liked, started being evacuated to safer places, where they couldn’t be harmed. Where they couldn’t be touched by a bullet, not even by an inch.
Leroy was left here, in the dorm he shared with a guy who had probably given him away when he was being taken to a safer place.
Because, naturally, they didn’t come back for him.
And Leroy knew he was already dead. Staying here would get him killed, because the armed men were going building by building, killing all the prodigies they could find so they wouldn’t “cause more trouble” in the future.
In other words, staying here meant he would be found and killed eventually, and going there meant that he would be in the middle of a bullet rain and he would die anyway.
It was a nasty and terrifying thought, but Leroy believed that, when you thought about something awful for long enough, it stopped hurting at some point, because your brain became numb to it and just went with the roll, preparing for the worst.
That’s what Leroy was doing: Preparing for the worst.
He would die today. Yes.
And that, honestly, made his “I want to die” jokes a lot less funny (those things always stopped being funny when you were on the verge of death for real) but, what could he do about it?
Leroy didn’t know.
His laptop was right in front of him, and a completely blank document greeted him from the screen; he had started his death letter between 8 and 10 times now, because Leroy wasn’t good with words, no matter how hard he tried to be; he was a science person, not a…
Poetry person.
Still, he was naive enough to believe he would develop some type of ability to write stuff during high school or during his first year at university; yet, he still didn’t know how to start something as simple as a letter. It wasn’t a report; it wasn’t an essay; it wasn’t the start of a thesis. It was only a letter. And, worse, it was a letter he wanted to write willingly, because he knew that, if he died today, his body would never be found again and, sure, he was an adult and everything, but he wanted his moms to know what had happened to him. He would explain it to them.
Once he figured how to start the letter.
Leroy tried everything again.
“Dear Rhonda…”
“Dear Claire…”
“Hey. It’s Leroy…”
“To Claire and Rhonda…”
“To Rhonda and Claire…”
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Heck.
Could the people outside just shut it for a moment?
Leroy groaned, scratching his scalp using both of his hands; at this moment, he was sitting on the bathroom floor, waiting until his laptop had enough battery. There were more ports outside, in the room, but he was used to Will (his roommate) using all of them at the same time, not because he needed to, but because he didn’t want Leroy to use them, like a territorial male predator, which was stupid (but he didn’t seem to realize that).
Right now, all of those ports were available, but Leroy didn’t feel like going out of the bathroom. He was too used to being here, with the awful warm yellow light that made the bathroom look like a haunted public restroom in a gas station.
“Dear Claire and Rhonda…”
Dear Claire and Rhonda, what?
“Take care of Schrödinger the hamster for me (though I guess you already do)”?
“Sorry for sneaking out when I was 17. I know you were worried. I shouldn’t have done that.”?
“I’ll be attaching some instructions for you so you can keep stealing power from the neighbor on Christmas Eve.”?
“Sorry for refusing to graduate from high school early, that would've avoided a lot of things.”?
“I love you.”?
“If you’re reading this, It means I’m gone.”?
BANG.
The power was out.
Great.
This was just another sign the end was near.
Leroy was going to die today.
He was ready for that because he knew that, being a prodigy, he would be killed eventually just for the sake of it. Yet, the thought of having to die thanks to a delusional hippie made him kind of bitter. This was a very dumb way to go.
“Dear Claire and Rhonda,
Alec Artino dragged me to Hell with him.
Sincerely,
Leroy. “
After that, he decided he refused to be conscious the moment they killed him; the last time he had been killed, back when he got his powers, he had been conscious all the time, and it hadn’t been a very pleasant experience.
Not again. No.
So Leroy decided that should be enough for them to understand and then, after removing all his passwords, he turned his laptop off and proceeded to go into the room, where the also hideous and bright emergency white lights were already on.
Leroy placed his things by his desk and, after taking a sip from his energy drink bottle, he went to sleep, because energy drinks barely had any effect on him anymore.
When his senses started to fade away, he knew he wouldn’t wake up from this nap.
-.-
But he did.
And he woke up in the most annoying way possible, with a loud bang on the door, which made him jump up, shifting into a sitting position almost immediately, as the banging continued.
Why couldn’t killers just be silent, a little more observant, and a little less dumb?
The door wasn’t even locked.
“It’s a pull door.”
His voice, in that moment, was met with silence; Leroy narrowed his eyes, confused, as the door creaked open.
And when he had a clearer visual, he realized that, if he had any opportunity to make it out alive of this one, that opportunity had vanished from existence in that very moment; that moment when he met Honey Harper’s gaze, not alone.
No. Of course not. Honey Harper was never alone; right there, leaning his whole body weight against her, was Alec Artino, gasping and groaning in pain.
She was never alone, because she was always with him. Right by his side, smiling and winking like an idiot to the cameras, and standing closer to cops that were already accusing her of standing too close to them; and just like Alec Artino, she thought she was invincible and untouchable.
Which, obviously, she wasn’t.
She was, in fact, as fragile and breakable as any human being was, prodigy or not, and this was the living proof of it.
Honey Harper’s clothes were stained with blood, although Leroy could tell that blood wasn’t hers.
There was an open wound in Alec’s calf, already bleeding through his pants.
A bullet hole.
Leroy felt his stomach twisted in knots, and for a moment, he was filled with lucidity, mixed with dread.
Maybe he wasn’t ready to die again. Or at least, not as ready as he thought, because the image of his moms, his hamster, and everything else seeming so distant made him feel trapped.
Perhaps in the previous scenario he would’ve survived somehow.
Somehow.
But not in this one.
Because in this one, Alec Artino and Honey Harper were here, in his room.
Alec Artino was going to get him killed, after all.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“What are you doing?”
“No.” Leroy got on his feet when he saw her walk inside. “You can’t be here. Get the fuck…”
“What have they done to you?” Honey interrupted him, and when he saw her narrowing her eyes, staring at him through the emergency lights, Leroy knew what she meant.
Because Leroy had a pair of huge and hideous scars all over his face. A little gift from his ex-classmates, when they had provided him with the blessing of being a prodigy.
“Oh, those monsters…”
“It wasn’t the cops. They didn’t do this to me.” Leroy stopped her, although he did touched his scars a little.
Even if he didn’t want to admit it, he was kind of self-conscious about them. They made him feel exposed, like one of those prodigies whose powers were so evident you just knew there was something weird about them; in his case, people knew that most of the people with scars as big as his’ more likely had some type of gift.
“It wasn’t them. Now you get out of here, just…”
“You’re a prodigy, aren’t you?”
Leroy blinked, as his eyes met Alec’s this time. He was trembling, Leroy guessed, due to the shock, and he looked extremely sick and nauseous. He was obviously in a lot of pain.
But not even pain was stopping his delusions, goddamn.
“You don’t get to say that.”
“But you are, aren’t you?”
“You’re being fucking nosy, given that’s none of your business!” Leroy screamed. “GET OUT OF HERE! YOU’RE GONNA GET ALL OF US KILLED! BE GONE! SHUSH!”
They weren’t cats or dogs, but he didn’t care. This was his dorm. His place. He wanted to get killed by himself for being a prodigy, not for hiding Alec Artino and Honey Harper in his dorm.
Like, he didn’t want to get killed. But if he was to get killed, he didn’t want to go because of this.
And, certainly, not like this, with these two dunces invading his room.
“COME ON, DON’T BE LIKE THAT!” Honey Harper told him, and Leroy could see she was barely able to hold Alec Artino anymore. “He’s injured.”
“They’re chasing him! They’re chasing you!”
“You’re a prodigy.” Alec Artino insisted.
What a stubborn piece of shit.
“They didn’t take you with the others. You must be a prodigy.” He said, looking straight into Leroy’s eyes.
“We’re all prodigies here. We must help each other.”
“Must is a strong word.”
“Just like we are!” Honey Harper said, hugging Alec tighter.
“Please.”
Please was also a strong word.
Leroy’s hands were starting to shake.
Between the bullets outside...between everything that was happening outside and here, inside, Leroy didn’t know what to do. He knew this was going to get him killed, but he knew that Alec Artino’s wound needed to be treated, otherwise he would keep losing blood.
Leroy didn’t know why he cared about that.
He shouldn’t have cared about that, at all; this guy was dumb and reckless and had deliriums of grandeur; he had caused all of this. This whole movement. This whole prodigy rebellion that was getting both prodigies and non-prodigies killed.
But Leroy knew, by experience, that everyone was totally okay with the idea of dying until they were on the verge of death.
“Get in. Quick.”
-.-
Despite looking as if she were about to have a panic attack, Honey Harper had managed to be in control of herself and this situation; once they laid Alec Artino on the bed, she started trying to boss Leroy around while she tied her hair in a bun and washed her hands.
And Leroy obeyed her, because he was an idiot.
When her hand started trembling for not being able to cut Alec’s clothes herself and asked him to do it, Leroy went and did it so.
She asked for bandages, and he went, like a stupid, soulless minion, to get her bandages.
She asked for peroxide, and he went, like her puppet, to get her peroxide.
She asked for water, and he went, like one of her bees, to get her water.
But when she started wrapping the bandages around the bullet wound that refused to stop bleeding, she asked:
“What’s your name?”
And Leroy saw a red flag above her head full of blonde curls, as he answered:
“National Anthem.”
Honey Harper didn’t stop her job, but Alec Artino scoffed, despite being weak enough to avoid sneering at him.
“You’re not telling me, then.”
“I’m not an idiot.”
He was an idiot, apparently, but not as big of an idiot as she was trying to portray him; he had been dumb enough to let them in, and he had been dumb enough to le Alec Artino bleed in Will’s bed. But he wasn’t dumb enough to reveal his name.
They probably wouldn’t live to see another day, but these two would go without knowing his real name. And that was for sure.
Honey Harper kept bandaging the wound and, at some point, she wrapped the bandage too tight, which made Alec groan.
“I’m sorry.” She said, clearing her throat, before proceeding.
Leroy stood there, pinching his own arms, looking at how it seemed his presence had stopped being noticed;they were in his room, and yet they were talking as if the two of them were alone, in their own, delusional, hippie little world.
There were some rumors among campus...and among Gatlon, overall, about Honey Harper being head over heels for this guy, and Leroy knew why…
But it was more noticeable when you were this close to her, just as it was very noticeable that Alec just…
Didn’t.
Even if he did love her very much.
And it was so evident it was...weird, almost embarrassing.
“Do you know if the telephone lines are still cut?” Alec asked, to which Honey tilted her head to the side. “...I need to call the Starchild to...tell him I’m fine.”
They had just arrived, after hours of running outside. It was safe to say she wasn’t qualified to answer that question; so, for the millionth time in the last 30 minutes, Honey Harper met his gaze,
“Do you know if…?”
“I heard him. I’m still here, in case you didn’t notice.” Leroy snapped. “The telephone lines are still cut.”
They would still be cut for a while, he guessed, because they had been since the attack had started all around the campus.
And still, if they weren’t, Leroy wouldn’t have told them anyway. These two were really underestimating him, because they refused to acknowledge he wasn’t as dumb as they wanted him to be.
He wouldn’t have let them use his telephone, because he didn’t know who this “Starchild” was, but maybe it was another one of their allies, which meant danger. A lot of danger, as he knew their allies were as nuts as they were.
Honey Harper stared at Alec Artino, who just nodded and smiled understandingly. And, for a moment, the dorm went quiet, with only their labored breaths as background noise; Alec, because he was injured; Honey and Leroy, because they were too damn uncomfortable around each other.
This…
This had turned out to be way worse than Leroy had initially thought.
Why, out of all the buildings in this campus, had they chosen his’?
And why, out of all the dorms in this building, had they chosen his’?
It was clear that, when something was already going bad, it could get worse. But Leroy didn’t know why it had happened to him. Why today.
And, of course, he had been preparing for this moment all day, so when they heard echoes of the main gate opening in the distance, at a lower floor, Leroy didn’t flinch.
Nor did he say a word, as both Honey Harper and Alec Artino turned their heads towards the door, knowing they were here.
Knowing they were doomed.
“They’re looking for you.” Leroy told Alec, nonchalantly, as he put both of his hands into his pockets.
“And, apparently, I’m coming down with you.”
“There’s no need to worry about that.” Alec said, almost as nonchalantly as Leroy, as he got into a sitting position with Honey Harper’s help.
“We’re not going anywhere with them.”
-.-
Once all the the lights were off and a...very improvised plan had been explained to him, Leroy locked himself in the bathroom with Alec Artino, who was sitting in the space between the sink and the toilet, trying to place his injured leg in a comfortable position, which was almost impossible in a bathroom so small; Leroy, on the other side, just waited by the door, sharpening his sense of hearing.
Because, for sure, he couldn’t see. It was too dark in here. But he could feel and hear.
Leroy didn’t know where he got the willingness to focus from, but somehow, he managed to hear the exact moment when...whomever they had sent to the building, kicked the door because nobody seemed to understand it was a pull door.
In that moment, cold sweat started dripping down his temple and his blood started running slower.
“She’s got it under control.” Alec whispered to him, and Leroy couldn’t help but think he was giving too much credit to a woman wearing a bloodied shirt that said “Save the bees”.
But, apparently, she knew how to use those bees as much as her shirt claimed wanting to save them.
One moment, everything was silent.
The other, there was buzzing.
Almost deafening buzzing. And grunts that turned into whimpers, and whimpers that turned into screams, until everything was so horrible Leroy had to discreetly cover his ears, to the point he barely heard Honey Harper as she knocked on the door and ordered them to get out.
And since, again, Leroy was an idiot, he obeyed her, as he climbed Alec Artino on his back and kicked the door open, running through the room, among the (probably) dead bodies covered in bee stings, in the darkness, until they arrived into the hallway, where the light from the outside could be seen.
The light that notified them they were starting to surround the building.
To surround them.
Mildly panicked, Honey Harper told him to lead the way, like they had previously agreed they would do, but between his own confusion, the whole building looked like a labyrinth to him. Wide and confusing. And all the hallways looked the same.
Leroy looked around, trying not to let Alec Artino fall to the ground, as his heart pounded so hard he could feel it everywhere, in every inch of his body.
“Which way do we go?!”
“I… I--...”
“WHICH WAY DO WE--WATCH OUT!”
But before Honey Harper summoned her bees, Leroy turned around, to the group of armed men that were coming down the stairs.
He barely thought about it.
In fact, he didn’t think about it at all.
He just felt the spark burning into his insides; one he had mixed feelings about despite his moms reminding him this hadn’t been his fault; that he hadn’t done this to himself; that he hadn’t asked for this.
However, he still, purposely although not very consciously, shoved that hand, overflowing with poison, into that guy’s face.
And he didn’t even have time to scream, unlike Honey Harper.
His face turned into nothing like cotton candy when exposed to water; and, for a moment, Leroy couldn’t breathe. Or speak. Or move. Or anything.
He just knew he was drugged with adrenaline. Absolutely high and blind. But he wasn’t having fun; not even the tiniest bit of fun.
He also knew he had killed that guy.
They made their way through the building among poison, acid and bees; there was a mild and cloying honey smell, but it still wasn’t enough to begin to cover the smell of burned human flesh and blood, as they dragged an injured Alec Artino who, despite being in a lot of pain due to that hole in his leg, was still doing his best.
And he did his best until, somehow, they reached the first floor, when all they could hear were the masculine voices telling them to surrender through megaphones, and all they could see were the lights directed straight to the building, meaning they were armed.
Meaning that, after all, Leroy hadn’t escaped death yet.
Even after all of this, his life was still hanging by the fingertips of these two idiots, who seemed to have their heads full of ground beef and suicidal thoughts.
And Honey Harper asked what should they do now.
And Alec Artino didn’t answer.
So she asked once again.
And next thing Leroy knew, was that the main gate of the building was opening right before their eyes, without any of them three touching it.
Alec Artino, who could touch and manipulate things with his mind.
Alec Artino, who had telekinesis, one of the gifts that were considered the most powerful and dangerous among prodigies all over the world.
Alec Artino, who leaned against Honey Harper’s body because Leroy refused to touch him once again, and faced the outside world, with them by his sides, as if they were their left and right hand.
Leroy’s world, suspended yet going at full speed, was overflowing with light; bright lights, coming from the lamps the army of police officers and military were holding, pointing at them with their lights. Pointing at them with their guns.
And they maybe were wondering who this new idiot was.
Why was he so close to Alec Artino?
Why was he with Alec Artino and Honey Harper?
How had he gotten here?
And those were difficult questions.
So difficult, that not even Leroy himself could answer them.
He was just standing there, by the entrance of the building, blinded by the lights and the weight of it all; standing there, like the revolutionary he wasn’t, looking how Alec’s bandages were starting to turn red.
Looking as Alec didn’t look back at him, but instead at the crowd who was surrounding them, ready to end all of them three.
And Alec Artino...smiled.
A wide, yet calm smile, while the world kept bursting into flames all around him.
“We are not surrendering to you tonight.” He announced.
The sound of at least half of the guns falling to the ground filled Leroy’s head, and he gulped.
A battle cry.
Hundreds and hundreds of battle cries, as injured prodigies came out of nowhere, responding to Alec’s presence, and attacking back those who had previously attacked them; and the battle continued until Leroy could see enormous masses made of red.
The same red that painted Alec Artino’s bandages. Of prodigies who were defending themselves.
Of prodigies who were fighting back.
The next day, not a word was said. The bodies had been removed from the campus and taken somewhere else...a place they never got out of, because the government refused to acknowledge their existence in the first place.
The rivers of blood had also been drained, and only a few drops of red remained on the pavement, or on the trees’ leaves, which didn’t mean anything, because it looked like paint.
The day was rutinary, and classes were held normally, just as if nothing had happened.
Leroy’s name had been erased from every class he was in, and when he went to the administration to express there was a mistake, people straight up told him he had never been enrolled in that institution.
Later that day, he received a call from a payphone, and recognized Honey Harper’s voice before he even remembered he had given her his number last night. She asked if everything was okay, knowing it was not.
A fact that wasn’t much different for her, because Alec’s wound was starting to get bad and he needed a hospital...way too much for a person who happened to be banned from all the hospitals in Gatlon, because, in the ideal scenario, he ended up dead.
HELLOOOOOO AFGSHJFGAHJ SO, I’M SORRY ABOUT NOT BEING HERE ON MONDAY BUT I HAD SOMETHING TO DO, I’M SORRY AFGSHJAGHSJ BUT HERE WE AREEEEEE <3 <3 <3 <3 <3
THIS IS THE SEASON FINALE GUYS OMG :’) <3 I’m excited tbh because I really like the third season x’DDDDDDDDD But in the meantime, enjoy this chapter <3
Tag list: @obsidianfr3sk @nodrianbcyes @alecjamesartino @magykaldealings @kaiderforever @healing-winston-pratt @candy1523 @plain-jane-mclain @treaclesquirrel @all-weather-is-bad (I’m tagging you for the change of schedule agAIN LMAO I’M SORRY).
Evander sure looked calm for someone who had to be dragged into the car, and that was a lot to say because Evander loved the car they had gotten for patrolling. He liked it way more than the truck, because he claimed the truck looked like it had been taken straight out of the trash.
It hadn’t; they had gotten some of the spare pieces from the trash, yes (and then they had prayed to unknown entities for them to be able to fix the car themselves) but Hugh had bought the truck from a guy who was desperate enough to get rid of it to sell it at an affordable price.
The car, on the other hand, had been donated to them by the O’Briens, a (very) rich family with not known prodigy members that claimed not to be politically inclined towards any of the two “parties”, and yet they sent stuff to them, the Renegades, all the time, including the car, which was the tiniest bit excessive, but very needed also, so they couldn’t bring themselves to reject.
Besides, it didn’t put their privacy or confidentiality at risk; Hugh, in fact, had never met the O’Briens. None of them had. The stuff they donated to them was always delivered by a third party, who happened to never be the same person.
At the end of the day, the car had been extremely helpful, and once they managed to take down Ace Anarchy’s regimen, Hugh promised himself, they would find a way to repay them for that and everything else they had done for them, despite not knowing each other personally.
And, like he had mentioned before, Evander loved that car more than he would ever love the truck they had back at home for their personal use.
More likely, Evander didn’t want to go to Cosmopolis Park, because he knew the Puppeteer would be there, which was… a problem; not only did that make their job as Renegades more difficult, but it also took so many, too many possibilities from them; if somebody was qualified to approach the Puppeteer and, maybe, make him switch to their side, it was Evander…
But Evander was holding a personal grudge against the kid, which was understandable; but, again, this was their job, and it would’ve been nice if Evander had just decided to ignore that for a while.
He wasn’t willing to do that, of course. And they had to respect his decision, whether they liked that or not.
Needless to say, this was meant to (almost designed to) be an awful and triggering experience for Evander.
Today they weren’t here in Cosmopolis Park to try to “negotiate”, or pick up bodies from overdosed teenagers or stop a fight between two violent gangs that was taking place right outside the park…
Today they were in Cosmopolis Park due to having been specifically requested by the Puppeteer.
The call had arrived last night, directly from Cosmopolis Park, and everyone had hesitated before picking up the phone, thinking it was a mistake; but once they heard the Puppeteer’s voice, which seemed to be getting higher instead of deeper, unlike Evander’s, coming from the other side of the line. That’s when the ball was directly thrown onto Hugh’s hands.
The kid claimed to be willing to surrender to them, and then proceeded to request their presence at the park.
His tone sounded genuine; his tears sounded genuine. Everything about that call sounded strangely true and genuine; however, some irreparable damage had been done the day he had taken over Cosmopolis Park, and nor Hugh nor everyone could bring themselves to believe a word he said.
If anything, the only thing this meant was that the Puppeteer was up to something and that, whatever it was, it was their responsibility to stop it before it turned into something bigger.
Hugh knew they would not come back to the Headquarters taking the Puppeteer with them, but he knew they had to do this, risky as it was.
So Hugh parked.
And, for a while, nobody said anything, and he was forced to take the first step.
“Here goes nothing.” Hugh said, and his voice sounded almost like a whisper as he tapped on the wheel. “Lady I, you stay—“
“Here. I know. You already told me that.”
He couldn’t help but scoff.
Georgie wasn’t, in any way, under the right conditions nor circumstances to do any other type of Renegade-related activity that wasn’t appearing in front of the cameras or attending events like inaugurations, charities or local parties/parades (though they rarely had those anymore); it’s not that being pregnant meant she was sick or something like that. In fact, she seemed to be having a healthy pregnancy (according to the prodigy healers they had in the Headquarters). She didn’t need to be bedbound…however, going on missions was dangerous for her, as they put her under a ridiculous amount of stress and made her vulnerable to receive bad punches in her belly and stuff like that.
Nevertheless, pregnant and everything, Georgie was very stubborn (she had always been) and, today, she had refused to stay at the Headquarters because she wanted to follow the Puppeteer’s instructions about wanting the whole team at the park, despite knowing they wouldn’t allow her to leave the car.
And she was right. They wouldn’t, because they weren’t idiots.
“Come on.” Simon chuckled, staring at her from the passenger’s seat.
Georgie was in the backseat, her arms crossed around her chest, sitting between Evander and Kasumi; she was trying her hardest to look natural and calm, but it was evident she was annoyed.
“Don’t be mad at us. Here…” Simon opened the glove compartment and took out a plastic white bag. “We brought a book and some snacks for you, so you don’t get bored.”
For a second, Hugh thought she would be mad enough to reject those, but he saw her hand reaching for the bag anyways, without saying a word.
“Captain.” Kasumi started. “You should also leave the AC on for her, in case she gets too ho—“
“No. That would waste too much gas.” Georgie interrupted. “If I get hot I’ll just turn it on myself, but not now.”
“Good.” Hugh told her. “I’ll leave the keys here for you, then.”
Being that said, everyone started moving, preparing to leave the car; Evander got out reluctantly, because it was pretty obvious he didn’t want to be here, Kasumi just went with the roll, knowing she had no way to escape from this (Evander should’ve realized that by now, too); Simon, from his part, turned invisible and Hugh turned around to face Georgie, whose arms were tighter around her chest.
“If we’re not back in 30 minutes, you drive away.”
“I’m not doing that.” She answered, with no hesitation, and Hugh laughed because he knew that it had nothing to do with the fact she only knew how to drive a car in a straightforward direction (Hugh was teaching her how do reverse and park when she, suddenly, decided to get pregnant).
“Welp…It was worth a try telling you.” He said, pinching her nose, to which Georgie nodded to get his hand off her.
By the time he was out of the car, he heard her sneeze, but he didn’t say anything about it.
Then, they walked together towards the entrance of Cosmopolis Park, where they reunited with Tamaya, who had probably arrived there first (She didn’t fit in the car unless she was alone in the backseat, which, today, wouldn’t be the case).
When they entered the park, Hugh couldn’t help but feel some type of strange, very bittersweet nostalgia, because seeing it like this, so empty and just so…quiet, hit a very delicate fiber in Hugh’s body, because it took him back to some of the occasions he had been there with Georgie but, for some reason, he also had a very vivid memory about one time he had been there with Simon, and they had decided to ride a rollercoaster to celebrate they were already tall enough to get on one.
Of course, that didn’t turn out so great for Simon, because sometimes Simon had these…crisis, that made Hugh feel guilty (and worried) for not having enough money at home to get him a doctor that could give him a diagnosis (it was even worse now, because most of their money was directed towards their cause and their growing organization…if it could be called like that); his mind didn’t react well to stressful situations, nor to adrenaline. So, needless to say, a rollercoaster hadn’t been the best experience for him, and he had even felt sick afterwards, so they just wandered around the park together for a while, without getting into any rides or anything, until Simon stopped and just…spat it out, talking about how much of a loser and a coward he believed himself to be for a good 3 minutes.
“You’re not a coward or a loser.” Hugh told him that day. “If you were, you wouldn’t have climbed on that rollercoaster. But you did, despite being scared. And I believe that’s really badass of you.”
And Hugh remembered things got better after that, and Simon won a huge Cyanide plushie in a game, which he later gifted to Hugh (It made an excellent pillow for both of them for a couple of years).
It was a good memory; a memory of something that had happened in this same place, which now felt foreign and abandoned, because they had failed trying to protect it.
Someday they would take it back, when all of this was over.
But for now, Hugh tried to walk with his head as up as the ghost of the dignity he had lost here, to the hands of a 12 year old kid, allowed him, with his team by his side, until they got to the reunion spot, which was by the Ferris wheel…the same spot where they had met him.
So they arrived, but even before they stepped close to the spot, Hugh could already see his bright orange hair, along with his also bright costume, in baby blue, and that eerie puppet makeup, which Hugh wasn’t sure whether it was permanent or he was dedicated enough to do it every morning…however, last time he was sure he was wearing a real mask, and right now he had painted it around his eyes.
He seemed to be a good painter, though, because Hugh wouldn’t have noticed it if the kid hadn’t had black paint running down his cheeks, mixing with his tears.
The Puppeteer, face soaked and everything, stared at them, looking tiny and hopeless and vulnerable, as he hiccupped and hugged himself; alone, in this huge park, with them, standing firm in front of him.
And the situation was still odd, and off, and all types of strange a person could feel, but by looking at him, Hugh couldn’t help but just…believe him; because just like his voice had sounded genuine through the phone, this looked genuine too.
And this kid….
This kid was evil. He had killed people.
But he also was Evander’s age. And a prodigy. Maybe he had been through a lot, like all of them…
Maybe he…
“I need help.” The Puppeteer said, hiccupping.
And that caught them off guard. So off guard, that Hugh felt as his expression relaxed; as his body went calm; as his eyebrows went back to their original position.
From the corner of his eye, Hugh noticed the rest of the team was in the same situation, even Evander, although he looked still a little confused and annoyed.
The Puppeteer kept staring at them, but then he lowered his head and his hands went up towards his face, which left a pair of black stains on his gloves.
“It’s not fair.” He whimpered.
If he wanted to be honest, Hugh almost felt out of his own body… this was so weird, and it felt so strange, but he walked towards him and knelt down anyways. And the others did nothing to stop him.
Hugh gulped, hoping for the universe to give him a sign this wouldn’t turn out well, but said sign never came, and so, he grabbed the Puppeteer’s wrists; through their gloves, they couldn’t feel each other’s skin but, somehow, Hugh could tell the Puppeteer… Winston Pratt, was shivering, and his whole body became so tense it almost felt stiff.
But he didn’t pull away, unlike he had done when Simon tried to touch him.
Something was odd about this type of behavior too, but at the same time, Hugh felt as if he had the answer right by the tip of his tongue; however, the hiccupping coming from that stiff body became inexplicably loud, despite not causing any sound on its own at all; Hugh couldn’t think.
He could only feel. See. Smell. Touch.
But not think.
In fact, his whole brain became numb, and it remained that way until, suddenly, the hiccupping became even more irregular, and he felt the pair of small hands in he had in his possession, moving slowly, until there was a gap in the Puppeteer’s face, big enough for Hugh to have a clear view of his eyes.
A pair of blue, vivid eyes, tearing up, yet so alive and unbothered and…
And Hugh came to the realization.
The Puppeteer was smiling.
No.
Not only smiling.
Laughing.
The Puppeteer was laughing, and Hugh was immobile, trying to convince himself this wasn’t a trap.
But it was. And he had fallen deep into it.
“Tag.” The Puppeteer whispered, in a hoarse voice, remnant of all that super convincing crying. “You’re it.”
And then, as Hugh’s brow got to the highest spot in his forehead it could get, he heard clapping.
Constant and mocking clapping.
He let the Puppeteer go, getting on his feet immediately, and turning around; only to meet with the numb, yet terrified expressions of his peers.
Only to face Ace Anarchy sneering at him, with both of his hands behind his back, so calm and relaxed, and so himself.
Yet, Hugh couldn’t help but feel betrayed (because he had been betrayed) so he turned around, towards the Puppeteer.
“You said you were neutral ground.”
“Oh, and I am.” The Puppeteer giggled. All signs of hysterical crying, gone, though his face was still wet and he was still sniffing. “If you had given me something to work for you this one time, like Mr. Anarchy did, I would’ve done it. I’m not taking his side, I’m just working.”
He tried to remind himself this was a kid. A very bratty and annoying kid, so his betrayal would hurt less, but it didn’t work. Because, kid or not, he had out-smarted him, all of them, in the dumbest way possible.
Neutral ground.
The Puppeteer was willing to work for both the Anarchists and the Renegades as long as they gave him something in exchange.
“Geez. Like, honestly, Captain Chromium: Do you know what neutral means?”
He knew.
He was just really fucking slow.
And that made him mad.
-.-
Georgia trusted Simon and Kasumi’s taste in books. Out of all the people in the house, they were the ones who read more often, usually the same books, because books were very expensive and they had to get to agreements about which book they should buy to share it, in order to save money; Georgia sometimes took those books from the shelves to read them herself, and she had liked the majority of them, but maybe today she was just too distracted, and she couldn’t understand why they had given her a book about an angel and a demon; however, her being distracted didn’t mean she wasn’t giving the book an opportunity.
Or at least she was trying to give it an opportunity although, being honest, she was more invested on the fact that the cap of her water bottle was totally stuck; and, of course, the fact that she should’ve been keeping track of time, for her to decide when it was convenient to call for any type of backup or go inside the park herself (in the worst scenario, obviously).
30 minutes sounded reasonable, but the problem was she had no idea of at what time had the guys left the car.
Georgia was in a strange mood today (a very strange mood) but that didn’t mean she wasn’t worried about this whole situation; in fact, she was a suspicious as everyone else, as well as she was aware of the fact this more likely was a trap; but, on the other hand, if they had refused to come here, the Puppeteer would’ve done something worse.
Stopping him before he could was more convenient, to say the least.
She just hoped that, whatever that was happening, wasn’t that unpleasant or severe. She already felt too guilty for not being able to do more, despite being conscious it wasn’t her fault.
“They’re doing fine, your uncles and aunts, aren’t they?” Georgia asked, taking her eyes from the book for a second, and looking at her belly.
It was very small, to the point that, indeed, it could be confused with her abs or a little bit of body fat, which was disappointing. Georgia feared it would never grow bigger, due to her being tall and having such an active routine, along with a fit body type.
She wanted to wear cute maternity blouses and take pictures of her belly.
But right now, her baby was still small; a small bump that didn’t cause her to have trouble getting in her Lady Indomitable suit yet (after all, it wasn’t supposed to be that skin-tight).
“Yeah.” She said, running her thumb through her belly. “…They’re doing fine. We should trust them.”
Then, she went back to the book for a couple of minutes.
Sometimes talking to her baby made her feel focused and relaxed, which meant, basically, that that one-sided interaction was enough to make her get start getting a hold of the plot of the book.
She had read at least 5 pages when she was interrupted.
Maybe she was just paranoid, but she swore she had just heard somebody else’s breathing, which made her look around the car, until she decided it was nothing.
3, 4 pages more.
Then, she heard 3 small knocks on the window, which made her jump, as she was leaning her back against the door, laying on the backseat. Hence, the knocks felt too close. Literally right behind her ears.
And then, she felt hope.
They were back. And if they were cheerful enough to knock on the window, then maybe everything had gone well.
But when Georgia turned around, the smile was wiped from her face.
To her horror, her eyes met Cyanide’s, who stared at her through the glass, and placed his index finger over his lips when he saw panic starting to take over Georgia’s face; she wasn’t dumb enough to try in the first place, but him forbidding her to scream or maybe even speak made her feel hopeless.
She tried, desperately, to come up with an escape plan, but she was alone; she had no backup and everyone was inside the park.
Not being that enough, she couldn’t even use her powers, because flying was dangerous for her baby.
Fighting was dangerous for her baby.
Cyanide’s powers were dangerous for her baby.
Everything was dangerous for her baby. And what wasn’t dangerous for her baby but was for her, immediately turned into a situation of risk for her baby too, because, after all, it was inside her body.
Georgia’s body was what kept her baby alive. And in the moment her body shut down, it would take her baby with it.
So, trying to conceal her fear and shaking limbs, she opened the door and started getting out of the car, slowly, with both her hands up as if somebody were taking her under arrest instead of being abducted.
Cyanide, nonchalantly, closed the door behind her and placed a hand on her back; he was barely touching her, but still she could feel he was, and she knew that small touch was enough for him to release his power on her; for him to melt her clothes and get to her flesh, and poison that flesh until it got to her organs; and poison those organs until they stopped working and took her life and her baby’s with them.
Having Cyanide’s hand placed on her back was like having a loaded gun. And Georgia knew, for sure, that if she happened to survive this, she would remember it as one her most terrifying moments.
It made her, in fact, so terrified, that she even imagined the echo of the car’s door slamming shut, as Cyanide commanded:
“Walk.”
For a second, her feet acquired the self-control she was now lacking, and they refused to move, but Georgia forced them and, suddenly, she felt her body moving; her legs being in motion, dragging her through the sidewalk as her surroundings felt as if they were made of paper, and spinning and tearing themselves up around her.
Through the corner of her eye, while she felt cold sweat starting to run down her temple, she spotted a car; it wasn’t Cyanide’s car, she could tell (because they had managed to crash it every single time he had tried to attack them with it, and it looked absolutely miserable at this point) but Ace Anarchy’s. A shiny, dark blue sports car with a huge, golden “A” by the hood and equally golden bumpers and rims; through the window, she saw Queen Bee waving three fingers at her; when they passed by the backseat, leaving the Detonator and her middle finger behind. Georgia felt sheer terror running through her veins, and even as Cyanide opened the trunk right in front of her eyes and pointed at the inside with his head, it didn’t seem real.
It had been really stupid to think they would let her ride in the backseat but, for some unknown reason, she had hope.
“I—I…” Georgia didn’t know what she was doing anymore.
“I can’t…I-I’m…I’m pregnant.”
For a whole second, Cyanide arched his eyebrow at her; maybe considering it; maybe thinking about what she was trying to do.
But in the end, he pointed at the trunk with his head again. Because there was nothing she could do to change his mind, not even her bringing up the fact her baby could be hurt by her laying in such a scrunched up position.
So she started moving, as slowly as she could, as delicately as her body was capable, to get in the trunk, until she felt the mat through her clothes and, shaking, folded her arms around her belly. Around her baby.
What was she meant to do?
Maybe she could just fly away.
Act like she wasn’t pregnant at all, despite knowing she was, in fact, pregnant.
But what if these people had guns?
What if they just…shot her and took her down?
What if Cyanide grabbed and poisoned her before she could try anything?
All those questions wandered around her head as she saw Cyanide’s hand holding the trunk and it started going down, and down…
Think, Georgia.
Think, think, think.
What would Tamaya do?
What would Hugh do?
What would Si—
The trunk door stopped falling, although Cyanide hadn’t stopped pulling it down in any moment and even struggled to keep doing it.
Then, it made sense.
The breathing, the echo of a slamming door.
What would Simon do?
Simon would’ve just stopped the trunk hood before it closed.
Because Simon wouldn’t have left a pregnant woman alone in a car, during a mission they knew was a trap.
Georgia saw him become visible in slow motion, and the level of relief she felt became indescribable, to the point she just craved jumping towards him and hug him until her heart stopped pounding so hard against her chest, making her ribcage ache.
His eyes were furious as he stared at Leroy; so full of disdain and hate he almost didn’t look like himself. And in his free hand, he was holding his stun gun.
“Still playing around with that little zapping thing of yours, I see.” Cyanide said.
And before Simon could touch him with the gun, he waved his hand.
Simon screeched.
-.-
Hugh stopped them from talking with a hand movement.
For some reason, Ace Anarchy didn’t seem real this time. Not that Hugh thought he was facing a shapeshifter prodigy, but they had been so fooled by the Puppeteer, once again but with a different strategy, that Ace Anarchy’s “great” entrance had faded into oblivion.
They weren’t scared.
Not of him.
Not this time.
“How are things at home, little rascals?” Ace teased, smiling in an almost, almost kind way.
“What do you want?” Hugh demanded to know.
But Ace was mouthing numbers, as if counting a small group of people were that difficult; in fact, Hugh was almost sure he was just doing it to make them nervous.
“Seems like you are missing two Renegades.” Ace said, finally, as he walked towards Hugh, who was standing one step ahead from the others. “I may know a thing or two about the maternity leave issue, but what I do wonder is: where is your sidekick?”
That single question was more than enough to make Hugh’s blood boil, but he tried to imagine Simon’s voice telling him to avoid losing control, because that’s what Ace Anarchy wanted. And when Ace Anarchy wanted you to get mad, the key was avoiding getting mad.
“He’s not my sidekick.” He clarified, although he couldn’t help his voice from sounding hoarse and mildly broken, out of rage.
“I do not recall asking you if he is or not. Not that I care about the answer for that one question either.” Ace said, and then he pretended to be looking all over the place, running his eyes throughout the space surrounding them.
“Where is he, anyways?”
Hugh felt his whole face tremble.
“He’s right here.”
“Is he?” The sneer became wider.
“He is. You’re just not worth it for him to show himself.”
“Well, but isn’t that the cheapest excuse that I have ever heard in my entire existence?”
Hugh hated, despised that tone, with all his energy, and for all he loved and cared about.
And he hated the fact that he was walking around him as if he were the apex predator and Hugh was just his little, weak and miserable prey.
This time, not even Simon’s voice at the back of his head was enough to stop him…and so, Hugh…
Captain Chromium took Ace Anarchy by the shirt and lifted him up, as he smiled at him. Unbothered, having the time of his life, while the others gasped and even tried to stop him, by grabbing him by his arms.
But he didn’t let go, because Ace Anarchy refused to stop smiling.
And Hugh hated him for that.
“I also asked you a question: what do you want?”
The Anarchist scoffed.
“Everything I wanted from you today, you have already given me.”
For a moment, an excessively blinded by rage moment, Hugh thought about asking him what the fuck did he mean, but then, it all connected inside his head, dot by dot, and all the deliberate idealizations about what Ace Anarchy was as a prodigy and as a person came to him; how he could read his opponents like an open book and take them down with his hands behind his back.
Realization hit Hugh like one of the Detonator’s bombs, and realization came with horror, and horror came with panic.
Ace Anarchy didn’t want them.
He wanted Georgie, the most vulnerable of the team at the moment.
“You’re a fucking soulless piece of shit.” He told him, with no hesitation.
Then, he proceeded to let him go, but his body didn’t touch the ground, as he was able to hold his own body up thanks to his powers.
But they had stopped paying attention to him and were, instead, trying to stop what it had already begun.
Evander stayed there, fighting the Puppeteer because, after all, he was still working for Ace Anarchy the rest of the day, while Kasumi, Tamaya and him stormed outside, arriving into the scene where Cyanide was slamming the trunk of Ace Anarchy’s car, and Simon was screeching as he, blindly, ran towards them while covering his eyes.
They met him halfway, and Simon grabbed Kasumi’s shoulders as she desperately tried to touch his eyes to give him some relief, because they were uncontrollably tearing up and red as blood.
“T-trunk…”
“Trunk.”
“G-g…” Simon hiccupped. “T—“
He screamed again. In pain, full of agony, and unable to speak.
“COME ON, WARDEN.” Hugh managed to grab him by the cheeks before Kasumi could be finished doing her thing. “COME ON!”
“GIGI. TRUNK!” Simon barked. “TRUNK!”
Gigi. Trunk.
Hugh’s eyes widened.
Georgie was in the trunk.
But in the moment he realized that, the car’s engine roared.
-.-
The moment they saw Captain Chromium and two of the minions coming out of the park, Honey decided she didn’t give a shit about Leroy. She proceeded to take her heels off, savagely, and threw them towards the backseat, almost hitting Ingrid in the face; then, she jumped to the driver’s seat like a crazy goat.
So, already panicking, Ingrid gasped.
“Wait!” Honey turned on the engine.
“WAIT! DO YOU KNOW HOW TO DRIVE THIS THING?!”
“Pssh.” Honey waved, literally waved, the issue away, by waving her hand in Ingrid’s face. “I taught myself how to drive in a shitty truck twice this size. Now, hold on tight.”
The engine roared.
“I’m not going back to that stinky farm, with fucking Grandma Martha and my stupid parents.”
Ingrid didn’t hold on tight.
Perhaps underestimating Honey was her mistake.
-.-
Ingrid shouldn’t have underestimated her, because one second she was fine. The next one, she was flying through the backseat like an angel falling from Heaven, about to burn in the flames from Hell.
Honey saw her through the rear-view mirror. She didn’t have her seatbelt on, so she went straight to the window, and then back into the seat, falling like a rag doll, her nose and lips covered in blood.
“HOLY SHIT, DID YOU SNAP YOUR NECK?!” Honey tried to keep an eye on the road while she leaned her body backwards at the same time, poking Ingrid with her right hand.
It she had snapped her neck…
Holy shit, if she happened to be dead.
If she was dead, Honey was going to be in so much trouble.
“INGRID!”
She groaned, hissing and coughing right after, as she tried to slap Honey’s hand away.
“…kay…Okay. I’m.”
And…yeah. She wasn’t okay.
Apparently, she had hit her face against the window pretty hard, for one of her eyes was shut closed, her mouth was swollen and bleeding (she had probably bitten herself) and her nose looked like a crime scene. It was disgusting, and it was both in her shirt and her the seat and the fucking window.
But she was alive.
And there were idiots honking at Honey, so she rolled the window down, showed them her middle finger and kept speeding, because she was the law and nobody could stop her.
She could smell the wheels burning, but she didn’t care.
The Renegades had fallen in the trap, as expected, because they were young, inexperienced and predictable. They were fools, simple as that.
And Leroy, although much more experienced than them, was slow, so, at the end of the day, she would have to conclude the plan by herself, like she always did.
Not that she had any problem taking the full credit for it, of course.
Besides, she knew the plan by heart, because it was simple; the idea was to drive to the lighthouse, and throw Lady Indomitable off the cliff; sure, she could fly but the idea was to kill her first and then throw her; killing her was Ingrid’s job, but since she was semi-dead herself now, perhaps Honey would have to do it herself.
She didn’t know how, but she would have to come up with something.
These people were a problem for Ace and, if she wanted to be honest, she was starting to get very fed up and tired of them.
So Honey kept driving and driving. And she saw the lighthouse.
She was so close.
So, so close.
But just when Honey was trying to decide where to park, something landed on top of the car.
Something very heavy, yet stable, that almost caused her to lose control of the wheel before she managed to turn the engine off as she screeched. A hand sneaked in, grabbed her by the hair and pulled it so hard Honey thought this person was trying to get her bald.
So she scratched the skin of that hand, hard as she could, and once she was free from her hold, she opened the door and got out of the car.
Thunderbird was on top of the car; her wings fully spread, on all fours, and her eagle eyes bursting into flames.
She looked absolutely feral.
And the literacy of that statement was hilarious to Honey.
“Hey, Thunderbird.” She sang. “How’s the weather up there?”
The next thing Honey knew, was that there were feathers all around her; the wings, those fucking wings were hitting her. And they kept on blinding and hitting her until Thunderbird caught her by her hair again and banged her face, repeatedly, against the car.
But Honey was full of adrenaline.
She couldn’t feel anything.
In fact, she didn’t feel anything besides Thunderbird’s arm, when she grabbed it to take control of the situation and get hold of her own body (and hair. Very important.); she then punched and pushed Thunderbird’s stomach, as hard as she could, so Thunderbird, despite being in pain, punched her chin with her fist.
That did hurt.
However, it didn’t hurt more than the moment her back hit the ground, feeling the sand and the rocks perforating her flesh; then, just like that, Thunderbird was on top of her, in an astride position, mildly leaned forward, in order to wrap both her hands around Honey’s neck.
If she was trying to choke her, which she was, it was working, because not only were her hands too tight around her, but she was also extremely heavy, and her whole body weight on top of her stomach was making it harder for her to breathe.
She tried to punch and scratch, but nothing seemed to work.
Until, at some point, when she was already gasping for air, Honey came to the stupid realization she was still a prodigy.
And as Thunderbird pulled away, trying to get the bees, hornets and wasps off her, Honey knelt down on the ground, massaging her throat and coughing. Everything burned there. Even swallowing her own saliva felt like drinking gasoline or at least something very sour. Even her abdomen was sore.
“YOU’RE A THOUGH ONE, AREN’T YOU, HONEY BUN?!”
With that said, bees and everything, Thunderbird came flying towards her like a whirlwind, followed by the buzzing. Her eyes looked bright and enraged, and her wings were cutting through the remaining light and through the saline breeze.
Thunderbird grabbed her again, as if she were holding dead weight, or something that was already dead, and Honey’s back banged against the car again.
Painfully hard.
-.-
In the moment Thunderbird banged Honey against the car again, causing a loud and painful thud, Ingrid became lucid.
Startled, but mostly lucid.
Her mind was still mixed up, and her head hurt and spun. She had no idea what had happened. She barely knew where she was. She couldn’t even recall how Thunderbird had arrived and why she had showed up at the scene… but somehow she managed to remember they were here for a reason, and that reason was a plan.
So, as those two walked away, dangerously close to the cliff, very invested into something that looked like the dance of a death ritual which was making her dizzy, Ingrid forced herself on her feet, and out of the car, just like she forced herself to drag her feet towards the trunk and opened it to finish the plan they had already started.
And they were so close.
So, so close.
Yet, there was always something that had to go wrong.
And this time, sadly, that something happened to be the fact that it was Ingrid’s job to murder Lady Indomitable, who was inside the trunk… but the trunk was empty.
Ingrid, bleeding and dizzy, thought about warning Honey about it, but in the moment she saw her in the distance, fighting for her life, she realized that maybe, maybe, that wouldn’t be necessary.
“Sometimes not even the most stubborn of preys are hard to catch; you just have to know where to aim.” He said.
They weren’t aiming at what they had initially thought, which was a pregnant woman and her unborn baby. No. They didn’t have none of the two.
Their aim was gone.
But through the sound of aggressive fluttering of wings, the buzzing of enraged bees, and the roaring of thunder and the striking of lighting, Ingrid realized that they did have a prey.
-.-
Once Simon was able to see again, things got out of control.
Perhaps they had been out of control since the very beginning, but he hadn’t realized that because, well, he was basically blind for a couple of seconds…minutes even.
He could see Hugh and Kasumi fighting Cyanide and Ace Anarchy in the distance.
The fight, to put it in some way, was an unbalanced mess. At least, in the fight inside the park, the parties involved were only Evander and the Puppeteer. Sure, the Puppeteer’s powers were harmful and dangerous, but when it came to physical combat, they had the same capacity, more or less.
None of the two were as strong as a grown up. In fact, they weren’t nearly as strong as a teenager yet, but Evander’s powers were a great advantage when it came to defense, because he could just blind the opponent, while, according to witnesses (and according to what they, themselves, had seen), fighting the Puppeteer was like a playing a very complex Tag game, because he was strangely fast and had pretty outstanding reflexes and side view, which made it almost impossible for people to catch him (Simon suspected he could sense other people’s energy and that’s why he never missed them despite being hidden, although he wasn’t sure) while he could reach them from any spot. Nevertheless, as fast as he moved, it was easy for Evander to detect him, because Evander was sensitive to light and, for instance, to shadows as well. When he wasn’t following the Puppeteer, he was following his shadow. At the moment, they were probably chasing each other on top of the rides, trying to make the other fall to his death. At least, that’s what the cloud of darkness that could be seen in the distance suggested.
With Ace Anarchy, however…
It was weird.
When it came to Ace Anarchy, it was like trying to make an unstoppable object fight an immobile wall. With his eyes burning, Simon had tried to help Hugh and Kasumi, and if he wanted to be honest, he didn’t know why on Earth it occurred to them that fighting the gal who had lifted an entire city on his own was a viable option.
Hugh was invincible and unstoppable, but Ace Anarchy was powerful and immobile.
Literally.
Every time they tried to throw themselves against him, he would just stay there, sneering, and with a snap of his fingers, he would stop whatever thing Hugh was trying to attack him with and deviate its trajectory, towards Kasumi or Simon, which caused Hugh to get distracted.
Besides, every time Hugh tried to get closer to him, the whole block trembled, making him fall backwards or just trip. When Simon became invisible, Ace Anarchy followed the sound of his steps, or watched the debris that laid on a spot where there seemed to be nothing. Then, all Simon could see was a car flying towards him.
The same happened with Kasumi. Nobody was sure whether Ace could “touch” water, but he still managed to dodge every single drop Kasumi dared to throw at him, drawing objects towards himself to protect his body with them. After all of her attempts, he was still as dry as he had been when the fight started.
At some point, Hugh took out a big chrome hammer, out of the thin air, and instead of seeming the tiniest bit threatened, Ace Anarchy started levitating above them, unreachable and, at the same time, untouchable. Simon, Kasumi and Hugh oscillated around him like he was the sun and they were just planets, and he smirked, and sneered, as the ground trembled, as his gabardine waved around him and as all the cars and close objects floated in his surroundings.
His surroundings, because, according to him, they were his’ and only his’.
That’s when Hugh decided they were too exposed, and came to the realization that this was a diversion, as well as he accepted that Ace was way too powerful to be beaten at the moment, because Cyanide’s presence didn’t help either, being the one who was on the ground, right on the spot where Ace Anarchy was floating, and spinning alongside him when they tried to reach any of them.
They were too much.
And, sadly, they had to just go with the roll, if they wanted to succeed in at least something.
Hugh sent Simon to look for Ace Anarchy’s car, wherever it had gone.
But in the moment he opened their own car to climb on it and start speeding like a maniac and, at the same time, like their dearest enemies had previously done, his pulse stopped for a second.
Yet, he couldn’t look away.
There, in the backseat, was Georgie, curled up in a ball. Her costume was stained a little with vomit and her face and visible skin were covered in cold sweat. She was biting her nails, too, and she seemed to be spaced out, looking at the car’s carpet, at the open book that had fallen there, which pages were getting wet thanks to the closed, vaporizing water bottle.
Georgie was evidently not okay at the moment, but she had made it out.
The sky roared, showing a lightning bolt going across its immensity, coming from the distance. And Simon noticed the bees, too, that were being summoned in from every corner of Gatlon city, flying at full speed towards their queen’s call.
The sky was also responding to Tamaya, with all those lightning bolts and thunder, turning gray, like smoke.
Tamaya was fighting for Georgie’s life, and perhaps also her own at this point.
But Georgie wasn’t in the car Tamaya had gone flying after.
There was nothing in Ace Anarchy’s car.
Simon snapped back to reality.
“CAPTAIN CHROMIUM!”
-.-
The bee stings were starting to become unbearable, and it was becoming something Tamaya couldn’t take; besides, she was functioning under the influence of so much adrenaline, as she punched, hit and was punched and hit back…
Closer and closer to the cliff every time.
Until they were so close, that it became a war of who would fall first, in a fight that seemed to be non-stop and endless.
And Tamaya felt the stings.
Sting. Sting. Sting.
And the ones that didn’t sting her, were annoying her by landing on her body and harassing her, and she wanted them to stop.
Stop.
Stop.
Tamaya screamed, as she pulled away from Queen Bee and focused on her own self, trying to wave them away, kill them, make them disappear.
Whatever.
Please.
Please.
But they didn’t go away, and they seemed to be multiplying every time she tried to get them off her.
“Quit doing that, sweetheart. You’re just taunting them.”
Tamaya screeched. Desperate. Frustrated.
“STOP!”
And then it happened.
In the moment she slapped her, Queen Bee…Honey Harper, slipped back.
And Tamaya had been so close.
So, so close…
But in the moment she saw her there, hopeless, on the verge of falling to her death…
Tamaya couldn’t.
She couldn’t.
And, suddenly, in a blink, so fast she didn’t realize it, her arm was around Honey Harper’s waist, half of her body hanging, and half of her body still here.
With her.
And Tamaya stared at her, and her honey eyes stared back, as her blonde curls waved around her head to the rhythm of the wind.
Confused, almost curious.
The bees, from their part, became calm for a whole minute. They hovered over Honey Harper, all around her body, as if they were to shield her from whatever that was meant to go down. They paid the minimum amount of attention to Tamaya, and instead went directly to Honey. Only a couple of them touched her, resting on her hair, or crawling through her neck, getting stained by the red of the blood that rolled down the woman’s nose.
They were protecting her from Tamaya, intimidating a threatening, making her look like human-sized hive.
However, they wouldn’t sting Tamaya because, if they did, then she would let Honey fall, and that would kill her faster.
And Tamaya, then, remembered.
People weren’t born wicked.
This person, Honey Harper, was somebody’s daughter. Somebody’s sister. Somebody’s friend. Because even the nastiest of people came from somewhere, and also had someone to go home to.
Honey Harper had been a visionary. She had teamed up with Ace Anarchy and it was because of her, and Cyanide, and Ace Anarchy and the rest of the Anarchists, that prodigies had rights now. She had given up her previous life to find her own voice. She had used her voice to protect the ones who were like her. And once that was settled…she had turned into this.
She had carried the whole world on her shoulders, and had fought for many lives, even the ones she wasn’t a crucial part of. And she had survived as a prodigy in a world and in a generation that despised them.
Not only that. She had been a women’s rights activist ever since she had arrived into Gatlon, at the young age of 18. She had been the one to orchestrate the riots in Gatlon’s local university when the silent policy of not admitting young mothers into classes appeared. She had also opened up about her sexuality when nobody wanted to, soon after she became popular, putting the phrase “They might think we’re the ones who are wrong, but the day we decide to speak up they won’t be able to fight us all. Long live anarchy, in every sense.” right there, up in the universe. Then, she had endured the way in which that fact and phrase were erased from every newspaper, every news channel, and every piece of mainstream media a person could have access to, with the exception of the books that were specifically about Queen Bee, and that to a certain extent had gotten Tamaya through a rough path in which she felt nothing but emptiness upon not being able to understand herself.
She knew all of that.
But when she saw those malicious honey eyes, she also saw how gone that person was.
She saw a person who knew exactly what she was doing.
She saw a person who had been in a womb once, but was completely fine with the idea of killing a pregnant woman, whose rights she would’ve defended in the past.
She saw a person who had been a child once, but still had threatened her that many years ago, when Tamaya was a child herself.
She saw Ace Anarchy’s pet, so desperate for love she would do anything for him, knowing he would never love her back the way she wanted him to.
She hadn’t always been wicked, and she knew that.
But she had chosen to become a bitch.
And she also knew that.
So, after taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, she decided she wouldn’t be coming back. She wouldn’t allow her to come back, even if that meant giving up her own life.
And she jumped.
Tamaya jumped, taking Queen Bee with her, and leaving both her wings limp by her back.
Then they were falling, and falling, and falling…deeper, and closer to the water, but just when they were about to hit the surface, the bees became alert and turned into fight mode once again…
Next thing she knew was that, in the worst way possible, Tamaya was out of control. She spun around like a Frisbee, all while trying to stop Queen Bee from slipping from her arms, and trying to get the bees off her.
She tried to find an anchor. Something that got her to focus.
Maybe her family. Maybe Hugh, or Simon, or Kasumi or Evander or Georgie, who was the one she was doing this for.
But she could tell nor Queen Bee or her were in control. The bees were erratic. She was erratic. And nothing made sense at all.
The poison.
The poison was making her dizzy, and the thought of going back home or, even further than that, meet her niece or nephew, seemed distant.
Her anchor was weak, barely existent. And as her whole life went through her head like a movie, Tamaya reminisced what, for the longest time, had been her everything and her fight.
The way Hugh laughed, the way Simon’s voice became soothing when he knew someone was having a hard time, the way Kasumi would hold her hand and Tamaya felt like she was holding the ocean, the way Evander stared at them as if they were the most powerful human beings ever…
And Georgie.
She remembered how Georgie had taught her how to fly correctly.
And, for all Tamaya cared, she hoped she had a healthy birth in a few months.
As a last resource, she managed to resurface; she went up, to the height of the sun; her wings fully spread, as she held an unconscious Honey Harper by the arms. Thunder roaring behind her. Bees flying above and all around them.
Thunder and honeycombs, she thought, because it sounded funny.
Yet, for a moment, she felt like she was already dead.
And as she heard the “Boom!” filling their surroundings, she thought it had been herself; thunder and lightning responding to her will and her now weakened presence one last time.
But a sharp pain filled her left wing, accompanied by the smell of smoke, gunpowder and blood, and the one thing that characterized her powers, was the fact that thunder and lightning couldn’t touch her.
The last face Tamaya saw before falling, was The Detonator’s, standing on the cliff, her hand held towards them in the distance.
Then she was falling, and falling and falling, still holding Honey Harper.
But when they were about to hit the ruthless water, Honey Harper resurfaced by herself, slipping out of her arms.
Tamaya didn’t.
-.-
The moment Cyanide and Ace arrived in a stolen car, Ingrid stared at them through the corner of her eye. How Cyanide tried to walk into the cliff first, when the 2 figures that appeared to be hanging from the sun manifested in front of their faces, and how Ace Anarchy stopped him by placing his hand over his chest.
He put on his helmet, though despite his efforts of staying in line, he did a messy job while doing so. Then, he proceeded to walk all the way to the spot next to Ingrid, with his arms behind his back, and his forehead shaped into a very deep frown.
Staring directly into the now orange sun, unbothered, because Ace had this bad habit to try to show he was stronger than anything else, he identified something that he considered had to reclaim as his’, just like the rest of the Anarchists.
When Thunderbird started falling, badly injured, Honey resurfaced to Ace Anarchy’s will. Her limp body levitated up as he drew her towards him with his mind, her head hanging down, along with her blonde curls, her mouth a little opened, and the bee wings attached to the back of her dress hanging gorgeously beneath her; Ace’s hair waved to the breeze, peeking through his misplaced helmet as he smiled faintly, and then Honey fell into his arms, bleeding and unconscious, with her head hanging down. Of course, before Ace lifted it up to his chest, and stared at her, in her most deplorable condition, unresponsive, unable to defend herself in that very second, but alive.
Apparently.
“Good job.” He whispered.
And Ingrid knew, of course, that he wasn’t talking to her.
That’s when the other car appeared behind them, and three of the little and stupid Renegades got out, one by one, Captain Chromium first.
“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HER?! WHERE IS SHE?!”
Ace’s smile became wide, as he tightened his hold around Honey’s body, his deep green eyes staring into Captain Chromium’s blue ones, and an unconcealed mischievous smile appearing into his lips as light cut through his head and reflected on his helmet, causing a bright glow to emanate from his head.
“Kaboom.” Ingrid whispered then, upon understanding he wouldn’t be the one to explain what had happened.
Then, all the eyes laid on Honey, and all the attention was directed to the fact she was the only one here. And that they had one Renegade in the park, the other in the car, but they were still missing one.
And given that the only thing here was an enormous and vicious mass of water, everyone got the right idea of where was the missing Renegade.
Because, simple as that, she was gone.
Too far gone, down there, in the depths of the sea, bleeding.
And everyone held Tsunami back as she bawled, screamed and roared, asking her to calm down because the tide was responding to her feelings and killing the already dead Thunderbird faster.
Ace Anarchy laughed softly as the Dread Warden hugged Tsunami, who was distraught. Screaming. Kicking. Bawling. Making the sea go wild. Making everything worse because these kind of things could always get worse.
Yet, Captain Chromium stood there, looking in the distance. Lost.
KAY SO, YOU HAVE 2 CHAPTERS IN A ROW BECAUSE I HAVE SOMETHING TO DO TOMORROW AGSHJASAJ
BUT LOOK AT THAT, IT’S THE 20TH CHAPTER, HOW ARE WE FEELING AGSHJASJAK? <3 <3 <3 <3
Gosh :’) well...this is...pretty rushed because I actually forgot I had to post a chapter tomorrow x’D but hey! I remembered it, so yeah. I hope you all like it <3
Tag list: @obsidianfr3sk @nodrianbcyes @alecjamesartino @magykaldealings @kaiderforever @swiffonder @healing-winston-pratt @candy1523 @plain-jane-mclain @treaclesquirrel @all-weather-is-bad (I’m tagging you for the change of schedule :3).
Simon was starting to wonder how much of an Anarchist behavior was to try to cover up something they had caused themselves with some other, bigger thing.
It’s not that they had caused something, really. It was only that they had come to the (collective) agreement to notify the press (Gatlon, for instance) that Georgie was expecting, before her growing belly became a scandal and a rumor and she was forced to go through that much stress.
In barely a couple of hours, the world turned upside down; sure, some news channels, newspapers and magazines treated Georgie and her situation with the respect and dignity she deserved as a person, as a woman and a future mother…others, not so much.
Some of the articles and coverages were talking about it like a joke; some others were portraying Georgie as…something she definitely wasn’t (in very mild, family-friendly words, but with awful passive-aggressive undertones); while others had a tone that bordered on conspiracy theories, celebrity stuff and gossip.
Most of the headlines of those ones were listing “Captain Chromium” even before they listed “Lady Indomitable”.
And that didn’t let Simon sleep at night, if he wanted to be honest.
For the last couple of days, Simon had been enduring the voices around him, telling him how Hugh and Georgie had made a baby together, despite all the blushing and headshaking coming from both of them at the panels, clarifying that’s not what had happened, while Kasumi covered Evander’s ears and Tamaya, half-jokingly and half serious, asked the reporters if they were trying to make her leave the table; the first time, Simon only felt the smallest knot in his throat, but now it was getting tighter and tighter and tighter, expanding towards his stomach as well and, basically, eating him whole like a parasite, taking over each limb attached to his body. Those type of knots were difficult to untie, if not impossible.
Simon wanted to believe Hugh and Georgie, because he knew that, if something had happened between them, Hugh would’ve told him; same with Georgie, because Georgie, besides being aware of the fact they were a safe space and she could trust them, she refused to believe in censoring or mincing; when it came to topics that other people considered “delicate” or taboo, she had absolutely no fear or shame; she had managed to grow some tough skin on them by throwing words like “sex”, “menstruation”, “penis” and “vagina” into the air like glitter, saying she was doing it just in case they thought those words couldn’t be said out loud.
So, if something had happened between Hugh and her, she would’ve said something; the confession would’ve gone as “I’m pregnant with Hugh’s child”, and not “I’m having a baby from a man I hadn’t met before”.
Still, the possibilities of Hugh, odd and loving Hugh, hidden behind a very dense and narcissistic wall, wanting to take that fatherless child under his wing and raise it as his own, were huge.
In fact, they all were willing to do that, Simon included (he loved Georgie with all his heart, so he knew he would love her child that way too. Simon already loved it, and it hadn’t even been born yet) but maybe, just maybe, the pressure from the people would be too much and Georgie and Hugh would…
Yeah.
People sometimes said “You can’t lose something you never had”, but Simon had always disagreed with that statement.
It was false and condescending.
You could lose something that had never been yours, because you knew it could’ve been yours, but now it would never be; and that didn’t make it hurt any less, even if it hadn’t been the other person’s fault.
When you remained silent, the other person had the right to go on with their lives, because they didn’t owe anything to you. They didn’t have anything that kept them “tied” to you.
Leaving wasn’t necessarily something you could blame them for, if you were aware you hadn’t done your part into making them stay either.
But if you loved that person and that person left, even if it wasn’t “yours”…Then you were still losing them.
At least that’s what he thought.
Simon had quit trying to stop being in love with Hugh a long time ago, and it had been killing him slowly for years, drowning in the notion that he didn’t even know how to start explaining that to him without sounding like a predatory gay who had fallen in love with his best friend just because he treated him with the respect a human being deserved.
To be honest, Simon wasn’t in love with Hugh just because of that, but he knew it was the easiest way to romantically reject or to judge people like him; people who were shy, prodigy or homosexual, which he happened to be the three of them at the same time.
Way to go, Simon.
Way to go.
He wanted to stop thinking about it for a moment (once and for all, actually, but that was too much to ask. A moment of peace was just fine), because right now all their good wishes, prayers and anything else that could help were meant to be directed to Georgie and her baby.
So, maybe, this wasn’t an Anarchist behavior after all. They were just trying to help Georgie, weren’t they?
Because she didn’t need the pressure right now, did she?
But perhaps they could’ve done…something else. Like going to another inauguration party or such…but again, the headlines would’ve managed to emphasize Georgie’s pregnancy and how she was at a party while pregnant…and they would’ve also discriminated all her physical traits to highlight her growing bump, although, according to what Simon had seen, she only had a small (and kinda cute) bulge in her lower belly that could easily be confused with her abs or water retention.
Knowing that, they, selfishly, decided to intercept the Glass Girl, like Evander had been suggesting for some time, without trying in the slightest to hide their whereabouts from the press, as they gathered outside the abandoned church to look for her; and, of course, the press followed them like mosquitoes and they took hundreds of photos while Hugh was inside the building, with them blocking the entrance.
After 20 or 30 minutes of waiting, they finally heard the echoes of the steps, and they stepped aside-
Like a vision, Hugh came out of the church, hugging a woman by the shoulders in order to hide her from the public (he wasn’t doing a good job).
Simon guessed this was what people felt when they first saw “the” Thunderbird on screen; a rumor becoming true; a walking, breathing, living being that had been a part of nighttime stories and local legends, whose existence was put into question every now and then.
Hugh was hugging a woman who, indeed, appeared to be made of glass or crystal, whose skin shone in different colors as the sunlight laid on her, in yellow, green, blue, pink, magenta and others, that Simon couldn’t identify at plain sight. She was very shiny, and she didn’t seem to be made from flesh at all… in fact, she even had big crystal spikes on top of her head, where her hair should’ve been.
She was…
Gorgeous.
He couldn’t find another way to describe her; and in the moment she felt her personal space being ignored and invaded by the cameras, she tried to cover her face with her palm, which did nothing but shoot a beam of light towards their faces, which, obviously, made her really embarrassed and Simon could even notice her mouthing the phrase “I’m sorry”.
“It’s okay, darling.”
Apparently, Georgie saw it too, so she went ahead and took her away from Hugh, hugging her herself while Hugh tried to ask the reporters to let them through, and Tamaya walked backwards, trying to block the view from the Glass Girl, who seemed to be more and more ashamed with every step, even as Simon opened the ambulance door for her and helped her up.
They had two cars prepared for her, one in case she could be directly taken to the Headquarters, and an ambulance in case Hugh noticed something weird in her.
“She seems to be kinda underweight.” Simon heard him say (talking to the paramedics, not him). “She also has some unhealed wounds because she doesn’t know how that works in her skin, so maybe she’ll need a prodigy healer. If it happens to be so and there’s nothing a regular doctor can do about it, then take her to the Headquarters.”
“Got it.”
When the ambulance’s door closed right before their eyes, reality hit Simon in the face, and he felt bad because once again he came to the realization that they had, basically, used this poor girl, this homeless and scared girl, as a smokescreen…
It didn’t feel good or correct, and Simon promised he wouldn’t agree to do it again.
He refused.
For Georgie and the baby.
They had done it for them, not because they wanted to.
Yes.
Besides, once the ambulance was gone, they had to force themselves back into reality, because they just stood there for a couple of seconds, with a veil made of guilt covering them.
Until, of course, the reporters surrounded them and, following the pre-established plan they had made (like imbeciles, to be honest) they moved back to the entrance of the church to answer questions; questions related to the Glass Girl, of course; every other one, that involved Georgie’s pregnancy, would be ignored.
However, this had just turned into a bad day for Simon, although it had started normally, with him being in a very neutral mood; yet, coming to the realization this would haunt them later had been enough to trigger him enough get lost in his thoughts and miss the majority of the answers the rest of the guys had given, except something Hugh said by the end of the session.
“People often state that prodigies act as a burden to society; however, most prodigies are forced to rely on illegal ways to get income not because of them not wanting to get jobs, but because nor companies or independent businesses will hire them; so, as Renegades, we are committed to restart the economy with a system that allows prodigies to be involved…”
Hugh was far from having perfect self-control while in front of a camera or a crowd but, a year ago, if somebody had dared to question their objectives with such a hostile tone (reporters had a funny way to ask questions), he would’ve lost it. On the contrary, right now he seemed relatively calm despite his brow shaking a little (Way less than it would’ve shaken in the past, still).
The heat started going up, suddenly, as Hugh spoke, and Simon’s body language became erratic and uncomfortable, with all that neck scratching and throat clearing and such; Simon didn’t realize that, though, until Kasumi (who was standing next to him) reached for his hand and grabbed him by the wrist.
Things became calmer after that…the last 5 minutes, at least, until they found themselves posing for the photos…calm, normal.
Normal, of course, until the guy with the Gatlon Gazette name tag, the last one in the line, approached them, showing said name tag uncomfortably. In that moment, Simon felt a rush of energy and…realization, he guessed. Maybe it was just him trusting his gut too much, and giving it too much credit, but he knew; by the way he stared at them in sheer terror behind those huge glasses.
And his body emanated pure, suffocating embarrassment, almost as if he were too… too everything to even look them in the eye.
And Simon knew, because he was staring at everyone except Georgie.
But Georgie was staring at him.
With the uncomfortable grin still taking over his face, he took some pictures.
He wasn’t bad looking, really; Simon had to give him credit for those cheekbones and that chin (because, holy smokes); he had dark skin, and the shape of his brows made him look like he was angry when he tried to keep a straight face; his eyes were light brown, and his hair was dark brown (Simon identified it as some shade between his’ and Kasumi’s) tied in a small, low ponytail.
Once he was done with his job, he thanked them, bowed a little (out of nervousness) and spun around to leave.
However, once again, his gut told Simon he would come back, because this guy didn’t really want to leave; he probably had made a scene for his boss to let him cover this issue, because he knew he had the moral obligation to see Lady Indomitable; to see Georgie.
To see her.
The woman who was carrying his child.
By the way in which Georgie was staring at him…by the way they all were staring at him as he walked away, Simon knew they were astonished, wonderstruck and absolutely mesmerized by his nerves. The audacity. The boldness.
But Simon knew he wasn’t leaving without talking to Georgie. No person would be physically able to, if they had the minimal amount of decency.
Which, in the end, he happened to have.
As Evander started wrapping his arm around Georgie (protectively, according to him), the man turned around again and, gulping, approached them again, facedown, dragging his feet.
Evander held Georgie tighter, but she straightened her posture as he, shaking, asked:
“May I have a word?”
He didn’t need to clarify he wasn’t talking to all of them, because everyone knew he wasn’t.
Even Georgie, whose expression relaxed, bringing usual, loving and patient Georgie back.
Gracefully, she nodded and, looking straight into his eyes, she said:
“You may.”
After that, she started walking down the 4 steps that led to the main gate of the church and left, without touching him, and him without touching her.
Seeing them standing next to each other provided a whole different perspective…not in the sense they made this outstanding, physically pleasing couple or had more chemistry than a high school semester (maybe it was just Simon being bitter, but he felt like…no vibes at all coming out from that man. Georgie pretty much had chemistry with everything that moved, but in this case, she had more romantic chemistry with him, Simon, and he didn’t even like women in that way)…but in the sense that…
Georgie was tall; last time she had measured herself, she was 5’11 and, standing next to her, the man looked something like 5’7; and he obviously knew that, so it seemed like he was making himself look way shorter by walking in such a hunched back position, not purposely, but because he was intimidated.
They walked away together and stood under a tree, where he spoke first, and he kept going, and going and going forever…
And Georgie nodded.
Like that. Plain and simple.
She just…
Nodded.
Very calm, like she always was. And Simon couldn’t see him well enough from here, but he was sure he had gone pale. Simon would’ve gone pale too, if they were talking about what he was imagining.
He spoke again. Georgie nodded. And tilted her head to the side. And laughed.
“Damn, we look like enraged in-laws, we should just….Yeah.”
Everyone started moving before Hugh was even finished saying that…and, really, it’s not that they moved that much; instead, they just went to the side, and gathered in a closed circle.
However, before Simon could do anything, Tamaya grabbed him by the arm and started pulling him in the opposite direction, towards the public restrooms, which didn’t seem strange to him because Tamaya didn’t like to go to those places alone. Simon was okay with that until she stopped halfway, putting his hands on her waist, scoffing, before she spoke in a low volume.
“He’s got such a flat ass. Did you see that?”
The statement took him by surprise. And, worse, coming from Tamaya; that is…he knew she liked criticize people, but this was sudden. And he wasn’t Kasumi. Why would she…?
Simon felt his cheeks turn red, and he pretended to be looking to the guy for confirmation, when in reality he was just…considering the possibility.
Maybe, maybe Tamaya knew they both liked guys.
Because, to be honest, Simon had been suspecting for some time now that, indeed, she liked guys, but she liked girls too.
He didn’t know how to explain it, but he just knew.
She had been seen by him, and now, apparently, he had been seen by her. That’s just…how things worked sometimes, between people like them.
Shy, prodigy and homosexual.
And, stars, that guy had a really, really, really flat butt.
Simon scoffed.
“Yeah.” He told her. “And he’s kinda short, not gonna lie. Not just because she’s tall, I mean.”
“Do you think he’s that tiny everywhere?”
Simon shouldn’t have laughed.
Like, he didn’t want to laugh.
But he did, until he snorted.
-.-
For some reason, every time Ingrid tried to tell people something, they didn’t believe her; and yes, she knew she wasn’t the most reliable person to ever exist, but when they ignored her this much, it was annoying.
The Anarchists didn’t believe the “rumor” about Lady Indomitable being pregnant until their subscription to the Gatlon Gazette arrived with a mild delay. At the moment, they were having a blast, gathered around the newspaper as if it had been released last night instead of last week.
“Somebody got her knocked up. That’s ridiculous.” Honey took the newspaper away from them, sliding away in her swivel chair, like a small child in her parents’ office instead of a grown ass woman in Ace Anarchy’s meeting room, while he stared at her from his…throne with a sideways smile.
“That’s what happens when you’re a Renegade and you believe that you’re oh, so self-aware.” Ingrid shrugged, crossing her arms across her chest.
“Ingrid, Ingrid, Ingrid.” Honey sang. “It’s not about being self-aware. It’s just a matter of not being that stupid.”
Then, she read one of the paragraphs again.
Damn.
Honey had been a train wreck ever since Ace had stopped bringing her meds (Ingrid was pretty sure they didn’t sell them in Gatlon anymore, and if they did, then they were too expensive), even if she didn’t want to admit it, and Ingrid had heard her complaining about severe migraines due to Nova’s (Tala and David’s baby) wails.
But today, Ingrid could see, she was having the time of her life. Her pores were clean, she looked 20 years younger and her stunted brain that barely produced enough serotonin for her to function without looking like an unhinged mess was vibrating.
“Do people still fuck up their lives this bad by accident? Vintage.”
“How old is she?” Cyanide asked, ignoring that last comment.
“Like fucking 22 or 23, if I remember correctly. “ Honey answered. “She should’ve learned by now. When you decide to spread your legs like a compass, then...”
“Well, yeah. She’s fucking stupid and everything.” Ingrid said. “But I don’t know why we’re making such a big deal out of it.”
Because, honestly, she didn’t know.
Why was a pregnant woman so important? She more likely would take maternity leave for a couple of months and then she would make a huge comeback for all her bootlickers. And maybe then, only then, they would have the possibility to abduct her child out of pure spite (like witches, taking someone’s first born child in the name of revenge). In the meantime, she wasn’t too useful for anyone but, Ingrid supposed, Honey, who would have the time of her life making fun of her when she started getting round like a jawbreaker, as if she were super skinny herself.
“Like, how does that even benefit us or why should be…?”
Ingrid’s voice and train of thought was interrupted by Ace Anarchy, who straightened his back and stared at her from up there.
From his chair.
“Ingrid, Ingrid, Ingrid. “ He sang, his voice almost as sweet as Honey’s.
Almost, if we took away the fact it sent shivers down her spine.
“Sometimes not even the most stubborn of preys are hard to catch; you just have to know where to aim.”
-.-
When Georgia arrived at the Headquarters at night, she could barely walk, not because she were so, so tired, but because her feet were killing her slowly, with every step; and her breathing that day had been bad enough to make her realize flying was a bad idea.
By the time she entered the building, the movement was already settling down.
Since they had acquired/taken over this building, some prodigies who called themselves their allies had asked to work with them, taking jobs according to their gift; some of them only worked in the renovations to the building, which upper floors were falling apart (It was a huge building. Almost unnecessarily huge); but others did some other things related to them as Renegades, like publicity or computer stuff Georgia didn’t understand (not even when they tried to explain their jobs to her) and…doctor stuff.
She then arrived to the common room and, without hesitation, sat on the couch and took her boots and socks off, hissing.
The boots were not uncomfortable; in fact, they all wore the same type of boots (the only difference being the fact that hers and Evander’s were white, while the others’ were black) because they were super comfortable for both walking, running and everything they needed…but when Georgia saw her feet, she realized why they had been bothering her so much; the boots weren’t the problem. The problem were her feet, which were really, really swollen. Enough for the boots to be tight on her.
“Skies…” She groaned.
She shouldn’t have walked so much, and she knew that, because she was pregnant. However, Georgia was just starting to mentally complain about that, when she heard a giggle by the door.
Kasumi entered the common room and sat next to her, to consequently pat her lap.
Georgia didn’t need any further explanation, nor did she need Kasumi to insist; a couple of seconds later, her legs were on Kasumi’s lap, and she was massaging her feet.
Her hands moved very, very slowly, but it made Georgia feel relief anyway; Kasumi’s hands were always cold but, also, they always felt like they were wet, or as if she always had a water torrent running beneath her palms; sometimes, holding Kasumi was enough to calm a person down.
Georgia couldn’t quite explain it, but if the sea could be touched, it would feel like Kasumi.
“They look like toads.” Kasumi giggled, referring to her feet. “Did you two have fun?”
“Fun” was one way to put it. He didn’t have much conversation, really, and all the while he had seemed more worried about walking in elevated surfaces because he was shorter than Georgia (she didn’t know why was that a problem, being brutally honest). So, she had this…bitter memories about the awkward silences and walks through the city.
She had enjoyed some parts of the date, though…if…that could be called a date, given that they were two people who had seen each other naked and, despite the fact that had resulted in a pregnancy, they didn’t know what to talk about, because they didn’t know anything about each other.
Still, she had asked him out for a second date (he had asked her out for this first one, back in the park, so it was her turn…she supposed) because maybe, just maybe there was a chance they would work.
A…very low chance, because they didn’t have many things in common, for what she could see, let that be about interests, opinions… hobbies (was being a superhero a hobby?).
Besides, even if she didn’t want to admit it, she was low-key annoyed by the fact he had acted so oblivious about the baby, not asking one single question about how she had found out, how she felt, how the others had reacted, how they would manage with the pregnancy-related stuff and, maybe this was just her whining because back at home they were spoiling her like a rich girl from the pre-Anarchy era, but he had politely refused to take her downtown to get a funnel cake, saying “we just ate, are you sure you’re not too full to finish it?”.
She knew she wouldn’t finish it.
She just wanted a funnel cake to take a bite from it. And she was craving it really, really bad.
But Georgia was a patient person.
Way too patient, and she was aware she couldn’t expect everyone to treat her the way her family treated her.
“Yeah. It was…interesting. We’re going on another date next week. To…walk around, I guess. Watch a movie at the drive-in theater and things like that.”
“So he has a car.” Kasumi said, without making eye contact. “And yet he sent you walking here, pregnant, swollen feet and everything.”
“Wow.” Georgia laughed, impressed.
Kasumi rarely went feral, but her whole self was pulsating now, and it made her feel supported, somehow.
Her intentions were good, but she decided to clarify the situation anyway.
“No. I told him to drop me off a couple of streets ago, because I had already changed in my Lady Indomitable costume, and…in case he didn’t want to…you know.” Georgia sighed. “My feet are swollen because we did walk a lot through the city. But he did try to drive me here.”
“Well, at least we can give him that.” Kasumi said, though her expression didn’t soften, at all.
Maybe she knew she hadn’t had that good of a time as she claimed. After all, Kasumi was really perceptive.
“How’s the Glass Girl?” Georgia asked, to change the subject.
“Sleeping.” Kasumi answered. “She’s…kind of shocked, but I think she’ll like it here. She really needed a prodigy healer. Most of her wounds were infected.”
“That poor thing.”
“Yeah. But she’s stable now.” Kasumi shrugged, smiling.
Then, she went silent for a while, as she kept massaging her feet. After a while, Georgia had already closed her eyes, but when Kasumi spoke to her again, she heard every single word.
“Thunderbird and I agreed I’ll be the one to assist your birth.” She said, sighing. “Thunderbird says she kinda doesn’t trust herself enough to do it, and I’m…not sure. But I’m going to start seeing a midwife or a doula and stuff, so she can capacitate me and…we’ll see how it goes.”
Given the fact she was…well, Lady Indomitable, it would be impossible for Georgia to give birth in a normal hospital or a birth center. So, together, they had come to the (scary) realization she would have to have a home birth, and Tamaya or Kasumi would be the one to assist her, because Hugh was too tough, Simon’s hands shook too much, and Evander was young (and too disturbed already).
The chances of that raising any suspicion were low, because getting a midwife or a doula (even nurses, sometimes) for them to accept somebody as their pupil out of necessity (having to assist somebody else’s birth) was getting really popular lately, and Kasumi would just go in her civilian clothes, claiming what everybody else did. Hospitals were a mess and she had a pregnant relative at home. Nobody would notice.
“You’re okay with that, Lady I?”
“I am.” Georgie smiled at her because, for some reason, she felt proud.
Really proud.
“I’m totally okay with it.”
“We’re a team now, then.”
“We’ve always been.” Georgia said to her.
But yeah. They were a team. They had always been a team.
Kasumi kept on massaging her feet, until a flare calling for the Renegades appeared in the sky; and even if Georgia tried, she couldn’t find the willingness to get up and help; so, as Kasumi was leaving in a rush, Georgia simply asked:
“Tsunami, darling…If you have time, can you get me a funnel cake on your way back?”
In response, Kasumi showed her a thumbs up before disappearing though the hall, jogging, because she was not rude and she would get her a funnel cake unlike some other people.
He wouldn’t stay. And Georgia knew it.
Some people hadn’t been born to be parents; some people just couldn’t be parents. And maybe he was one of those people.
Maybe this man wasn’t meant to be a father…
But Georgia felt she could be a mother. And that she was meant to be one, just like she was meant to be Lady Indomitable.
And the timing had been really bad for both her and her baby, but she knew she was supported and loved.
And she knew this child was loved.
It was so tiny and so delicate and it hadn’t even been born yet.
It’s @dawniebb here, actually x’d with a stolen url from @healing-winston-pratt
Okay, before I say anything else…I don’t know if this is going to work or not x’D.
I’ve been pretty inactive lately, and…yeah. It’s mostly because my mental health hasn’t been that good lately, and even before that, I was pretty busy with my NaNoWriMo project. This weekend I tried to get a hold of everything I had pending, like tags and stuff, and I still have some of them there. However, this blog’s been here for like a week already and I was just waiting until I felt ready to make the announcement.
I consciously took a break from the fandom for a while, before coming to the realization I didn’t want to come back anymore. lmao. But I think Renegades it’s still a…big part of my life at the moment and I want to believe I feel detached from the fandom only because having everything in my main blog is kinda overwhelming to me x’d So, long story short, I’m REALLY trying to stay and…yeah, I decided to make a new blog for Renegades content, and Renegades content only. It’s going to be sort of weird to get used to it…even for me :v But I hope we can make it work.
All my fics (except the canon divergence ones) have been removed from @dawniebb and, for personal reasons, I won’t be re-uploading the majority of them (just the ones that were gifts, that is: Little Sister, Before Gatlon Falls and Through the Bleeding Shell because they don’t entirely belong to me. I wrote them for someone else. With love ofc <3) but I hope I can write more in the future <3
Still, PLEASE, from now on, when you want me to see something (one of your fics, your drawings, tag games…) please tag this blog :’) that would be nice. Or maybe you can tag @dawniebb but I’m still going to respond the tag using this blog :’) I hope you understand <3
And….I’m going to make a giant tag masterlist for people in the fandom, just so you know.
(btw if you want to stay in my future taglist, just tell me)
ALSO THE NANOWRIMO PROJECT WILL STILL BE ON @claustrophobicteapot EVERY MONDAY AND WEDNESDAY. I’m getting a divorce from @dawniebb not from @claustrophobicteapot
OKAY SOOOO...Happy Monday...I mean, I don’t like Mondays but still I hope you’re doing fine (?) and yeah :) here we go again xd. I hope you enjoy this despite it being the second part in our Domestic Fights Saga, where we feature Tamaya going absolutely feral :)
Sometimes you just have to add 7 pages to the first draft of this chapter and keep on living
“It should’ve been you.” Her dad said, holding 2 year old Cain in his arms. His eyes, cold and empty, yet so full of hatred, staring directly at Georgia, who stood next to him, without staring back.
“But not even that would’ve killed you.”
Georgia kept on listening to him, pretending she wasn’t there at all, as she watched her mother’s casket instead, along with another three smaller ones.
It was a constant joke among the family that Dad always wanted a boy, and he never stopped until he got one, which meant that, of course, along the way he had to make some sacrifices, like having to keep an unwanted child under his roof; a rather planned child, that they were initially eager to meet and willing to take care of, but turned unwanted afterwards because, according to them, she had been born broken.
Georgia didn’t like to think about herself as broken. Why would she, if everyone in the media referred to her kind as a “prodigy”?
Kiernan, her oldest sister, bought her an illustrated book once, about prodigies, with a ton of gorgeous drawings that talked about the close relationship between them and the sky.
Sometimes Georgia liked to believe she hadn’t come from her parents at all, because maybe she had come from the sky instead, for she knew the sky better than she knew herself. And she knew that the sky, for his part, was an unsafe and dangerous place sometimes.
Something shattered inside of her father the day Mom and the rest of her sisters fell from the sky; from a plane that was supposed to keep them safe, but failed them.
They fell and fell, deeper and deeper into a hole they would never get out of. They fell from the same sky that had brought Georgia so much joy in her darkest times.
“It should’ve been you” He said. “But not even that would’ve killed you.”
Because, even if she had gone into that trip with them, Georgia could’ve flown out of the danger.
And she didn’t know how to apologize for that. Because she didn’t know why someone would apologize for being alive.
-.-
Even 3 years later, Hugh still had vivid memories of the morning after they assassinated Atomic Brain, which coincided with the morning Evander arrived into the family; back then, he had tried to comfort himself saying he would later laugh about it.
But to this day, remembering that day didn’t cause him any type of amusement and, to be honest, it didn’t get the tiniest chuckle out of his system; Hugh remembered the morning after the assault of Cragmoor as a weird, sad day, and every time he thought about it he couldn’t help but be grateful it was a past event; it had already passed; they were no longer in that hole.
Sadly, that didn’t make them immune to be forced to go through more days like those.
And the day after Georgie brought the pregnancy test home and Hugh had to explain why she had decided to sleep in the couch (again), was weird.
Weird, off, and all the existent adjectives one could use to describe an irregular day.
Georgie didn’t confirm it immediately, of course, which only extended their agony and awkward silences.
Some time ago, Simon had explained to him that people tended to get emotionally attached to certain activities until they morphed into coping mechanisms, and Hugh guessed that, in this moment of their lives, their coping mechanism was to just… working.
Working, until there was almost nothing left of them. And, fortunately, Gatlon cooperated with them that day, being the violent, anarchic hole it was. Even Kasumi decided to cover her shift, despite being constantly rubbing her back, saying she was sleepy and complaining about how she didn’t want to be the one to stay here at night (in case they decided somebody should stay standing guard) but she didn’t want to go home either.
Nobody wanted to go home to Georgie today, as she had been the one who had stayed there, sleeping.
Making this seem just as if they were turning their backs at her was the last thing Hugh wanted to do, but it surely seem like it, because even after their shift was done and they had to go home until a flare showed up in the sky or somebody called them, they kept finding more and more distractions to avoid going home, from trying fix a lightbulb at the Headquarters to stopping by the store to buy some stuff, as Evander claimed to be craving pasta with alfredo sauce.
Then Kasumi started claiming the pasta packets looked old and that that section of the store smelled like rat droppings, so they went to the market instead to look for zucchini, while dealing with Evander’s temper tantrum because he wanted pasta, not zoodles, until Simon decided to shut him up telling him he could have the leftover pancakes once he finished eating the zoodles.
After that, they went home, took turns to get in the shower and, by the time Simon and Hugh met in the kitchen, Georgie was still nowhere to be seen, though they all knew she was in the basement.
Tamaya was out in the small porch, trying to dry her wings, despite the fact everyone knew she always did that in said basement (Hugh even felt guilty about always being so annoying about her flooding the hallway), and Kasumi and Evander were in the couch, in an almost spooning position, wrapped up in a blanket, while Evander played some videogame in his DS and Kasumi watched him play over his shoulder, again, despite the fact everyone knew that they would’ve preferred to do that in the basement, especially if Kasumi didn’t feel well.
Everything was just like it had been the morning after the Assault to Cragmoor. There was an enormous elephant in the room, shattering everything beneath its feet…and yet, somehow, everyone refused to acknowledge its presence. Just like that. The massive elephant was standing there, waiting for them, noticeable and unavoidable yet dodged with the ability of an artistic gymnast.
The energy around them and the house was numb and absent, to the point that even the raindrops (the product of a rain that wasn’t even close to be as heavy as last night’s storm) outside were making way more noise than themselves. Even Simon putting the zucchini through the spiralizer was making more noise than them.
In the meantime, Hugh stared at him from the cupboard.
At his hands, but then at the way his forehead was frowning in what he was trying to cloak as deep concentration and focus but Hugh knew was concern.
Hugh realized he was way number than what he had initially thought when his mind decided to travel far, far away, where the only thing he could think about was how Simon was…funny.
Not as in: he was strange or he had an excellent sense of humor (he did have it, but that was not the point), but as in…he had curly, frizzy hair, and when Hugh ruffled it, he couldn’t help but be surprised it was mildly heavy; besides, when shaved his beard, he looked younger than what he was, because Simon had this very…proportionate face, that hadn’t aggressively changed when he went through puberty, unlike Evander’s face seemed to be doing; or maybe Hugh was too used to Simon and he hadn’t noticed (nor would he ever notice) any change, so maybe the funny one was him and not Simon, and…
“What?”
He was staring at him, and Hugh jumped.
“What?” He asked back, tilting his head to the side, to which Simon smiled sideways, as he put at least a teaspoon of salt in the bowl where he had put the zoodles.
“I don’t know.” Simon told him. “You were staring at me. I thought you wanted to tell me some—“
“You did something to your…like, you shaved your beard.”
“Holy smokes. Did I have a beard already?”
Hugh shrugged, but he couldn’t help but laugh, and Simon imitated him.
Simon’s face hadn’t changed that much during puberty, and Hugh wasn’t planning to take that statement back, but what had happened to him, was that once his beard grew for the first time, it stuck with him forever. He was never able to get rid of it again. They used to joke about how he wasn’t yet finished shaving it when it was already growing back.
For a while, they laughed softly, until they remembered the nature of this situation and the atmosphere assaulted their sudden good humor again, and everything went back to being numb, grey, tasteless and even a little awkward.
He almost felt like they were in a sinking ship in the middle of the sea; everyone knew they were sinking; everybody knew their bodies would soon hit the bone-chilling cold water, but still nobody was moving because they had nowhere to run, and nobody they could call for help.
They were just there.
Waiting until the ship sunk.
“Maybe…” Simon cleared his throat. “…We could… start preparing the sauce.”
What was that supposed to…?
Oh.
Yes.
Hugh shook his head, feeling the dumbest human being ever. For a moment, he had totally forgotten they were making dinner.
But he had remembered now, so he jumped from the cupboard.
“Sure thing.”
-.-
Georgia found herself to be utterly confused about a lot of things when she was little. One of them being the concept of prodigies. Another being the concept of prodigies having to apologize for everything. Yet another being the concept of not being able to choose who was your family and who wasn’t.
Those were pretty existential, which would’ve been fine…if she hadn’t been aware she was confused about many other things too.
Movies confused Georgia. More than they should.
She had no trouble understanding books, because they usually just…told you what people were feeling, but when it came to movies she barely could understand any choice. Any line. Any reaction.
Especially in romance movies.
She didn’t understand why nobody was willing to talk about their problems instead of letting them grow bigger and bigger; she didn’t understand the jokes, or the themes.
And she didn’t understand the way people were portrayed in those movies. It was a lie. People weren’t so kind and thoughtful. They didn’t act that understanding right after someone had done something so nasty to them.
Skies.
They couldn’t even take somebody being different than what they were used to see, let alone just…accepting somebody else’s mistakes.
And, mostly, Georgia didn’t understand why, in movies, they did.
They always did.
And they came back.
And they went after the other.
There was always a scene about that, where a person decided to leave, and then the other would run after them, to admit they were wrong, and to ask them to stay.
Sometimes, one of those people had done something really awful, and the other had the right not to forgive them in case they didn’t want to.
But they did.
And that’s…not how people reacted to things.
Not in her experience, at least.
“Well…” Kiernan said. “That’s the thing about movies.”
She was right. Because movies were fun, even if Georgia didn’t understand them. Sometimes she just…wanted to understand. Because she wanted to know what it felt like, to live in a world so perfect.
“Nannie.” Georgia tilted her head to the side. “I really don’t understand.”
“What? The movie?”
“I don’t understand.” She repeated. “I don’t understand why they’re going after each other. They’re…not a good people. I don’t like them.”
Kiernan laughed, bringing her knees up to her stomach.
“I don’t like them either.” She admitted. “But, like, maybe we’re not supposed to like them.”
Then, if they were not supposed to like them, it meant nothing besides the fact Georgia was even more confused.
“My literature teacher says that sometimes we’re just supposed to... learn something.” Kiernan shrugged.
“What are we learning from this?”
“Oh, Georgie.” Kiernan laughed. “I don’t know. What are you learning?”
“That you shouldn’t get your bosses to date each other so you can have free time.”
“…Well…I mean, yeah.” Kiernan clicked her tongue. “But…apart from that…what are you learning?”
She didn’t know.
It hadn’t been a bad movie.
It hadn’t been the best movie ever, either.
She didn’t respond, and Kiernan didn’t speak again for a short while.
Until, of course, she decided to do it.
“I think that…these type of movies always try to say the same thing, over and over again, and that’s why they’re fun to watch.” She started.
“When you leave, there’s always be someone who’s willing to go after you. Somebody that will love you enough. And even if nobody does in the moment you leave…then, maybe…you know … maybe someday somebody will.”
Georgia was able to process and understand the message, for once. However, things got the tiniest bit confusing again when Kiernan suddenly asked, in a very low voice, because their mother was passing by, holding baby Macie:
“You know that. Right, Georgia?”
She pretended she knew.
Yet, Georgia didn’t truly know Kiernan was talking about herself until she left and nobody went after her.
Over time, Georgia just…accepted her father would never forgive her for staying alive when her mother and sisters weren’t given that chance. The day she came to that realization, she decided to pack a couple of clothes, a water bottle, some nuts and cookies, and then she just…walked. Hoping her father would go after her.
Georgia walked and walked. For days.
She had to feel the blisters in her feet and feel the sheer panic when she saw her water bottle becoming empty faster than it should, to realize she had come all that way, and her father hadn’t reached her.
The person, that ONLY person who MAYBE was willing to go after her, was gone. And Georgia had lost the way back home.
Which, she supposed, was something Father was relieved about.
So, what did she do about it?
What did she do when she was hopeless?
What did she do when she realized that, in the end, nobody cared enough?
When that happened, Georgia flew.
Because her feet were too sore. Because it didn’t matter anymore. Because she was hesitating. Because she didn’t know where else she should go.
So she flew.
Because, sometimes, when you were scared…and, sometimes, when you were sure there was no way you could fall deeper, then the last thing to do going up. Flying.
When in doubt, fly.
And she did.
Up in the sky, the same sky her mother and sisters had fallen from, she felt no pain.
-.-
While Simon sliced stuff, including the pieces of chicken, Hugh moved towards the stove and started melting the butter, which he later mixed with the garlic (when Simon brought it to the pan) heavy cream and cheese…though it was not parmesan.
Nobody knew what type of cheese they had in the fridge anymore. They just had cheese and that’s it, and if it didn’t smell bad, it could be used for anything, including a recipe that specifically required parmesan cheese.
After letting it cook for at least 10 minutes, Hugh lowered the heat before it started boiling more; then, he took a small spoon, filled it with sauce and took it, slowly, to Simon’s mouth, who blew on it before accepting it. Then, he cleaned his mouth with the nearest kitchen cloth he could find. And, although for some reason he seemed to keep the cloth over his face longer than he probably needed, after a couple of seconds, Simon just said:
“I think it needs more salt.”
“More salt?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
“Good, then.”
He trusted Simon more than he trusted himself sometimes (mostly because Simon had way more self-control). And, being Hugh a person who liked to eat weird things sometimes, he trusted him in this one too, as he reached for the salt shaker and added more.
Less than a minute later, Simon brought in the zoodles and the pieces of chicken and let them cook with the sauce for, again, 10 minutes, more or less.
For a whole minute full of thick fog and denial, Hugh wondered whether they would take 5 or 6 plates and glasses of water to the table, but before he could ask anything and make it worse, Simon seemed to guess his intentions to do it in the first place, and brought both 6 plates and 6 glasses.
Of course they wouldn’t left…her out of this, because they couldn’t avoid…whatever this thing was forever.
They prepared the plates and then took them to the dining table.
And, Hugh, of course, knew this moment would come eventually because, just before Kasumi and Evander could place their butts on their respective chairs, Simon stopped them, saying:
“Would you two please go look for Tamaya and tell her dinner’s ready? I can hear her doing push-ups and she just showered. She’s acting like a st…” Simon bit his tongue. “…male. Tell her to stop.”
There was no need for two people to go look for Tamaya to tell her to dinner was ready and that she should stop acting like a male (what the heck, Simon?), so it wasn’t hard for Hugh to tell this was nothing but a strategy. And by the way Kasumi and Evander left, very gleeful and happy, without saying a word, Hugh realized they knew too.
When they were left alone in the dining table, Hugh leaned against his chair, avoiding eye contact, as Simon pretended to be arranging the cutlery.
With a tongue click, Hugh scratched his brow.
“Should I…?”
“Yes.” Simon snapped, relieved. “Yes. Please.”
-.-
She felt no pain.
For a while, Georgia was convinced it would stay like that forever. Up there, in the sky, she would never feel pain. But thirstiness and hunger got to you even when you were flying, along with the feeling of being filthy after not showering for a couple of days.
When you were flying, the hot weather got to you.
The cold one too.
The burning sun.
The clouds.
The rain.
After a couple of days, sleeping a couple of hours was not enough, and Georgia didn’t find the strength leap again.
She knew she had arrived into Gatlon City because she recognized the hotel made of wood from the news, but only because of that. She had never been to Gatlon City, and it was uglier than she had imagined.
It also rejected her, for she started getting lost in the streets as soon as she arrived, with just her backpack, and feeling so exhausted she just wanted to lay on the pavement and sleep for 2 weeks, or give up and go back home, hoping Father wouldn’t have noticed she had left.
After all, there wasn’t one single reason why he should’ve noticed she was gone in the first place. It’s not that he cared.
Still, Georgia didn’t manage to find something that was powerful enough to draw her back there. There was nothing left for her back at home, because nobody had gone after her.
But even if nobody loved her back there, Georgia had never eaten leftovers from the trash, nor had she ever drunk water from the public bathroom’s sink. And, during those days, she had to.
The city was wild.
Everything was just…so fast and unstoppable, and it was all flashing lights, and chattering.
In the city, nobody cared about you. Sometimes, not even yourself, when you were trying to survive. No matter how humiliating the things you had to do in order to stay alive were.
It was the first time Georgia tasted loneliness, and the first time she felt her throat being sore for not using her voice enough. It was the first time she felt trapped, despite being out in the streets, with nobody telling her what to do.
It was the first time she decided she didn’t wish that to anyone.
And that she cared.
More than she could’ve ever imagined.
She cared so much it made her soul bleed, because she felt sorry for herself, hopeless as that sounded.
One day, the water from the sink tasted so bad it made her throw up and, for some reason, the way she decided to deal with that, was by walking.
She wandered around the city, looking like the homeless child she was, covered in scratches, bruises, blisters and dirt.
She walked until she found herself sleeping outside of a church, protecting herself from the cold with newspaper, only to be awaken a few hours later, by a voice telling someone named David to hurry up.
Georgia ran away as fast as she could, and her head started pounding, making her certain she was running a fever, or that she was catching a cold.
She ran, until she entered an abandoned building that looked like what had once been factory, and it was all it took to make her realize she didn’t know why she was running in the first place.
But when she stopped to think about that, she became distracted.
Georgia fell on her side, causing a very ugly would to open in one side of her leg.
The pain felt more like itchiness, and despite the fact she could see blood coming out of the wound, she knew was that was she was feeling was mild.
Still, her brain convinced her she couldn’t move.
For that single reason, she just…didn’t.
Georgia didn’t move.
She laid there for hours.
Days.
-.-
The walk to the basement was longer than ever; longer than those occasions he had to walk down there when he was too tired to do basic stuff, like breathing.
Eventually, of course, he reached the door that led to the small room they called their bedroom, and he pushed it a little, because it was ajar.
Despite being alone in the two beds, Georgie was managing to occupy the same space she would’ve occupied if the others were there; from this spot, all Hugh could see was her back, but he could notice she was wearing the exact same clothes from last night, from the pajama shorts to the white hoodie; her legs were by the height of her hips and she was resting her head on her arms, pretending she hadn’t heard him.
Not even when he cleared his throat, loudly.
There was no response.
There was nothing at hell.
“…Georgie?” He called her, although calling her “Georgie” instead of “Georgia” felt foreign and even kind of rude.
Somehow, he felt he had no right to call her “Georgie”. Not in this situation.
But he didn’t know if calling her “Georgia” would make it worse.
Perhaps it would.
“Uhm…dinner’s ready.”
No response.
“…We tried to make… pasta, but Kasumi said the pasta from the store was bad, so we…made zoodles instead. You know? Zucchini and noodles…and…”
Georgie sniffed, and that sent severe chills down Hugh’s spine. The room even felt colder.
“Yeah.” He whispered, scratching the back of his neck in an awkward manner.
By far, this was the most uncomfortable and tense interaction he had ever had with Georgie, given that they had been very close since the beginning. It was so heavy it was making him uneasy, to the point he even thought about leaving.
Nevertheless, before he could do anything, she spoke.
“You want me in the table.”
She sounded…hurt. And broken, to a certain degree. And all Hugh could think about while listening to her, was last night, in the restaurant. How they had hugged.
And how he was betraying that hug because he didn’t know what to do.
It wasn’t easy for him to admit it, but he couldn’t really blame Georgie for being hurt and mad.
He would’ve been, too, if that were him.
“Of course we do.” He said anyways. “Why wouldn’t we?”
-.-
Nobody noticed her. Because, once again, in the city nobody cared about you.
In fact, 3 days had to pass before somebody came in. And, by that moment, not even she cared.
She had come to a point where she felt nothing.
The void in her stomach caused by the hunger was just so deep it was just…there, being a part of her (in fact, the idea of eating repulsed her). The soreness in her throat, caused by the thirstiness, had also become a part of her. The dirt in her hair was so much she didn’t even care about it anymore.
The only thing she could feel, was the fact that she had a cold, and that having an untreated cold was annoying.
So Georgia would sleep for hours, meaning she also slept to cope with the fear that one of those days she wouldn’t wake up.
The day when somebody came, Georgia heard the voices, and she was almost immediately sure it was 2 voices.
For sure, her eyes were too weak to focus, but she managed; forced herself, to see.
2 boys indeed.
One who had hair the color of vanilla ice-cream, and the other who had hair the color of chocolate ice-cream (maybe she was just craving ice-cream).
The blonde one was running after the other, and they were laughing, until he reached him, and started ruffling his hair with his fist.
The other boy, who was also shorter than him, screeched, vibrant and happy, trying to take his hand off him.
“STOP, HUGH! STOP!”
Georgia smiled weakly from the distance, and her lips ached, breaking apart like snowflakes.
Her perspective wasn’t right, she then realized.
They were more far than what she had calculated, and she was also staring at them from below, because they were above, in a higher place.
She remembered the news again, about how sometimes people collected old and rusty stuff to sell it, and she supposed they were doing that. After all, they were in an abandoned factory.
Or maybe they were just playing.
Good for them.
They had each other.
But they separated at some point, when the one named Hugh, single-handedly, ripped a piece of metal from the machinery, and threw it on the floor, placing it as a bridge to cross from one side to another.
A prodigy.
Georgia got a bad feeling from that, but she still refused to move.
Hugh crossed the bridge first, fearless, holding the world between his hands.
The other boy, however, hesitated.
Hugh encouraged him not to, telling him the bridge was stable enough.
Which, maybe it was, because it was a pretty thick piece of metal.
That, however, didn’t change the fact Georgia saw something hanging from the edge.
Something very blurry, and very, very, very small, that she managed to see only because she was way too focused on that specific focal point.
Shoelaces.
Georgia placed her elbows on the floor, feeling her whole body ache as she pushed herself up.
“Hey.” She whispered in a hoarse voice, knowing she wouldn’t be heard.
He didn’t hear her, just like expected, because she was too far.
But the fact she was too far and that she was so tired and so weak and so gone suddenly didn’t matter.
One second Georgia heard a frightful scream, full with sheer, raw panic, in a broken yet strong voice:
“SIMON!”
The next second, she knew he wouldn’t fall, because she wouldn’t let him.
She was already flying at full speed towards him.
There was no reasoning behind that action, besides that she cared about his life.
She wanted him to stay alive.
Even if she didn’t know him.
-.-
The question didn’t age well, of course.
Though, Hugh had to give Evander some credit, because it turned out he genuinely didn’t like zucchini, so it was safe to say he was the only one not eating because he had no appetite, instead of just refusing to do it because he was too uncomfortable, like the rest of them.
Most of the plates were still intact; Simon, from his part, was doing his best…but his best, in this case, was sipping from his glass of water, playing with the noodles and setting the chicken aside, sometimes giving some pieces to Evander because, after all, that and the sauce were the only things he was willing to eat today.
Hugh was trying to eat normally, but nothing had taste at all; Kasumi was lost in her own thoughts, making the water in her glass dance, from one side to the other; Georgie was playing around with her food, without saying anything, nor looking at anyone.
But Tamaya was looking at her.
She looked uncomfortable because, naturally, she didn’t fit correctly in her chair, but overall she didn’t seem willing to move, with her eyes fixated on Georgie, and her plate, her fork and knife right in front of her, intact.
And Hugh…everyone knew that Georgie knew she was staring at her.
But she wasn’t staring back.
Just like, for a while, Hugh didn’t stare back at Simon, because he knew Simon was staring at him looking for an answer.
Looking for a suggestion.
Anything that could help them survive this; but, this time, Hugh didn’t have that answer. He could take every type of things….but, somehow, not this.
This was…very personal, and very delicate, and Hugh wanted to believe, in the most childish way possible, that this was just…a bad dream. And, like anything, it would pass.
But if it was Georgie would’ve said something by now, and she hadn’t.
She hadn’t.
And that could only mean one thing.
Hugh didn’t like that one thing.
Not because of what it was, but because of what it meant.
He was failing her so much.
Stars. So fucking much.
She was scared, and he knew why.
He had told them…or at least implied, because he wanted to help.
But now he was leaving her alone, when he had clearly promised he wouldn’t.
She was scared, and worried, and Hugh knew why.
Yet, he was as speechless as everyone else.
Evander cleared his throat, loudly, and everyone except Georgie stared at him. Even Tamaya directed her eyes towards him for a couple of (microscopic) seconds.
“I think… I mean, I was….telling Simon, that we should pay attention to the rumors about that girl… the one that lives in the abandoned church…”
“The church, as in…” Hugh gulped, thinking that maybe he had spoken too fast. “….the cathedral?”
“No.” Simon answered in a matter of seconds. “He means the church by the park…the rumors about the glass girl.”
The glass girl.
Hugh had heard of her. Rumor had it she lived in that abandoned church so people wouldn’t notice anything weird, thanks to the window patterns and the way they looked when the sunlight came through; the witnesses who claimed to have seen her usually described her as a woman whose skin was made of glass in different colors; Hugh wasn’t sure whether he believed that or not but, again, Tamaya herself had once been an urban legend too and she was right there, sharing a table with them, so one could never be sure.
Prodigies with very evident powers sometimes chose to hi—
Stop it, Hugh.
That wasn’t important right now.
Like, it was important, but they were in the middle of a family crisis and, painful as that was, he knew Evander had only spoken because he couldn’t take the silence.
He couldn’t blame him.
“Yeah. Maybe we should.” Hugh said, squirming in his chair. “Maybe tomorrow we can go, investigate…and if…she exists, we can find her a room in the headquarters. She’ll be…safer there.”
“Yeah.” Evander said, absently.
“…Yeah.”
Just like that, the conversation was over and silence had taken the wheel once again, without them being able to stop it.
There were so many things to talk about, yet nobody wanted to take the first step.
Everyone was so scared, so nervous, so…
Lost.
And so petrified and speechless.
“Can I leave the table, please?” Kasumi asked, suddenly, and this time everyone stared at her, which made her blush in an almost cartoonish way.
“…I don’t feel good.”
“Nobody does.” Tamaya spoke between her teeth.
And that, for some reason, seemed to affect Georgie more than it should’ve had, while Kasumi, simply, realized that might not have been the best or safest way to proceed, so she just slid through the chair, adopting a very bad posture.
“Fine.” Georgie said.
But she didn’t sound mad.
That made Hugh feel something, although he didn’t know what it was.
“You can be mad at me all you want. I accept it. I take full responsibility for that. And if listening to me makes you sick, then I won’t stop you from leaving. But I’m going to speak even if you’re not here.”
It had started.
-.-
The Simon boy fell straight into her arms. He was light as a feather. At least in the moment he fell into her.
Then he became heavy, heavy, heavy.
So heavy Georgia thought they would both fall.
But she refused to.
She wouldn’t fall today.
They wouldn’t die today.
She forced herself up and up and up, and when they arrived into the platform, the Hugh boy took Simon into his own arms, and hugged him, tight as he could.
“I’M SORRY, SIMON! I’M SORRY!”
“H-Hugh…”
“I’M SORRY, SIMON! I…I didn’t see your shoelaces, I…I’m sorry, Simon, I…”
They were hugging so tight, and they had each other so much, that Georgia smiled again, not a single drop of envy flowing out of her, because they both were alive. She had stopped death from pulling them apart.
And for a moment, the world was bright.
Then it wasn’t.
The moment Georgia fell unconscious, everything was darker than night.
She was so tired.
-.-
“I take full responsibility for the fact that, indeed, I had sex with someone I hadn’t met before. We weren’t being careful, and we knew that, but we did it anyway.”
Evander’s face, neck and ears were turning red, and Hugh couldn’t blame him for that. Everyone knew that, at some point, Evander had adopted Georgie as his new motherly figure, so listening to her as she talked about something like that was obviously a huge shock for him.
To be honest, everyone’s limbs were red now, but he was more worried about Evander.
“It was irresponsible and negligent and I shouldn’t have done it under those circumstances.” Georgie continued, before stopping to breathe.
“But you weren’t the one who had to stand there and watch as the second line appeared, Tamaya.”
“So you’re pregnant.”
“Yes, I AM pregnant!” Georgie screamed…although, more than a scream, it sounded like a wail.
A cry for help.
And everyone in this room already knew.
But there were somethings a person was never ready to hear out loud.
“And you can rub the fact that it’s my fault into my face all you want, because I know you, but I’m telling you now: I’m not saying it’s not!” Georgie sniffed.
“I know it is, Tamaya.”
“Then why did you do it?”
The eyes in the room were going from one side to another. Tamaya, then Georgie; then Georgie, then Tamaya. It was making Hugh dizzy.
“It’s….It’s her body, Tamaya.” Kasumi dared to say.
“Yes, it’s her body.” Tamaya said.
“Don’t address me in third person, I’m still here.”
Hugh felt he had been punched in the face.
Tamaya faced Georgie, this time teary-eyed, and when she spoke again, he could almost hear her hissing through her teeth.
“Fine. It’s your body, Georgia.”
“Thanks.”
“STOP!” Tamaya screeched, furious. “IT’S YOUR BODY, IT’S YOURS! NOBODY IS TAKING IT AWAY FROM YOU! IT’S YOURS! AND YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOU WANT WITH IT, BUT IF YOU KNEW YOU WEREN’T BEING CAREFUL THEY WHY…why did you…?”
Tamaya’s voice went low, almost inexistent, and as the first tears started rolling down her cheeks, Hugh saw the remnants of the hatred that was still there a couple of seconds ago; burning hatred, full disdain but, at the same time, deep and painful concern.
“That poor child, Georgia.”
“I know, Tamaya.” Georgie responded in a hoarse voice.
“You don’t look like you know.” Tamaya scolded. “Even if you’ve been there and you should know by now. What it feels like. What that shit feels like. How that…”
Overcome with rage, Tamaya clicked her tongue and rubbed her eyes.
Simon, who was trembling, and probably suffocating something, tried to reach for her hand, but she pulled away, groaning.
“Why…? Just…why.”
“…I don’t know.”
“Of course you don’t.”
“Yeah, well, you can’t expect me to know everything!” Georgie snapped.
“Georgie…” Kasumi started.
“I…I don’t know. But I know that what happens to the baby it’s up to me because I’m its mother.” She said, staring at all of them, breathing heavily. “It’s not the right time, and I know that.”
“BUT YOU GOT PREGNANT!”
“I DID! I GOT PREGNANT! I AM PREGNANT! BUT I…” Georgie gulped.
“…I would do it.” She admitted. “I would just…interrupt it. But, you know what? That’s for people who are sure they want to interrupt it, but I’m not! I’m not sure and maybe I won’t ever be sure, just like I’m not sure I want it…but if I do, then I’m not gonna be like them.”
“Oh, Georgie.” Simon gulped too. “Like…l-like who?”
“LIKE THEM!” Georgie almost screamed, covering her ears, hiccupping. “LIKE ALL OF THEM! BEING BORN WASN’T ITS FAULT BECAUSE I DECIDED TO KEEP IT HERE! AND IF IT’S A PRODIGY THEN BEING BORN LIKE THAT WASN’T ITS FAULT! AND I WILL BE ITS MOTHER, AND UNLIKE THEM, UNLIKE ALL OF THEM, I’M NOT A PIECE OF SHIT, AND I’M GONNA PUT IT FIRST!”
“YOU WON’T KEEP IT ALIVE BY LOVING AND CARING ABOUT IT! NOT IF IT EVER GETS SICK!” Tamaya screamed. “LOVE DOESN’T HEAL FUCKING PNEUMONIA OR LEUKEMIA! YOU CAN’T HEAL A BABY WITH LOVE! YOU CAN’T FEED A BABY WITH LOVE!”
“I AM BUILT FOR FEEDING A BABY, AND SO ARE YOU!”
“BUT BABIES DON’T SUCK FROM YOUR BREASTS FOREVER! THEY NEED REAL FOOD, AND DIAPERS, AND CLOTHES, AND MEDICINE, AND CRIB, AND BOTTLES, AND FORMULA, AND A LOT OF MOTHERFUCKING EXPENSIVE STUFF THAT’S DEFINITELY NOT PAID WITH LOVE! NOT BEING LIKE THEM WON’T BE ENOUGH, GEORGIA!”
The room went silent, as Georgie stared at all of them, her whole body quivering, and her hand…
Her hand, just right there.
On her stomach.
“What if it’s a prodigy?” Obviously, Tamaya didn’t care. “Haven’t you seen how bad their lives turn out to be? Why would you even take the risk to put a child in the world at a time like this? You can’t protect a prodigy from being killed in the street with love, Georgia.”
There was no response.
Nobody dared to respond. At all.
“And what’s more important….You’re already here. What about you, Georgia?” Tamaya got on her feet, because the chair seemed to have become more uncomfortable with every sentence.
“What about us? What are we to tell people?”
“Tamaya, this isn’t about us.” Simon warned but was ignored.
“What are we to do when you go into labor? Where are we to take you? How are we supposed to watch you go through that much pain? What if you DIE during childbirth?!”
“Tamaya.” Georgie tried to laugh ironically, although among the tears. “I’m not going to die. I’m not going to—“
“BUT WHAT IF YOU DO?!” Tamaya sobbed. “WHAT IF YOU DIE DURING CHILDBIRTH AND WE CAN’T STOP IT?! GEORGIA, WHAT IS THAT CHILD TO DO WITHOUT YOU?!”
And for a second, the world was full of confusion and just…realization.
“Georgia, what are we to do without you?”
Hugh’s mind, for a minute, became a movie. And he saw Georgie, and he saw all the rest of the guys, and the family they had created; how they had managed to build a home out of a broken claustrophobic teapot; how Georgie had been light in their darkest times, like the mom or ther sister they never had, and how she was just so…selfless and good and managed to make everyone fell welcome and safe; how she would call them “darling” even when she was mad ; how she managed to be so…her, in a world so fucked up and how everyone knew that her womb was the most comfortable place a child could ever be in, because it meant it would later be in her arms, which were also the safest ones a child could fall into.
He couldn’t imagine what a world without Georgie would be.
He didn’t want to imagine that because, as far as Hugh knew, not even his powers allowed him to see in the dark.
“I understand.” Georgie declared.
“I know you’re scared, because so am I….I understand if you don’t wanna support me, but…but…it’s mine.” She gulped.
“It’s mine. I was the one who put it here and it doesn’t owe me anything. Because nobody forced me to keep it. I put it here. And putting it first it’s the least I can do for it… because I can. Because I want to. And because I care….I don’t wanna die, but I want to choose. I…I know what it means. I know I won’t give it a good life just with love but….a part of me was just…you… I thought you…”
She clicked her tongue.
She sounded so…
Hugh couldn’t explain it, but it was breaking him.
She was breaking him so much that, for a moment, he didn’t even know what she was trying to say.
“…I don’t know. I just thought you…would.” She didn’t finish her sentence.
It was too painful, even for her.
“But if you don’t…I… I understand…you don’t have to.” She sentenced, placing her hand on her belly once again. “I won’t be mad. It’s…it’s not your fault. It’s not your responsibility either. And…you shouldn’t feel like….”
“What are you saying?” Simon snapped, suddenly. And, for a second, Hugh swore to have seen him direct a death stare towards Tamaya, who was still sobbing.
“What are you implying?”
“I’m not implying anything, I’m just asking you to let me choose and…!”
“I don’t know about the rest of them but I’m not leaving you alone.”
As he got up, the world stopped, and Simon took her by the cheeks, while at the same time Georgie grabbed him by the wrist, breathing heavily.
“I won’t, Georgie.” He said. “…I won’t. You understand?”
“…I won’t, either.” Evander stuttered, and when everybody looked at him, his face became flushed, red as a tomato.
Of course it did.
“I…”He coughed. “There’s not…much I can do but I… I don’t mind, Georgie. Like…a Mini Georgie. Going around and stuff. I can like…teach it to play football…or play dolls with it or…or whatever…”
Through the numbness, Hugh saw her scoff, running her thumb through Simon’s wrist.
Kasumi got up.
“We’ll get through it…one way or another, Georgie.”
One way or another.
They were the Renegades.
They were trying to take down the government.
They were a team, and one of the members had a baby on the way. That was a fact, and there wasn’t a lot that could be done about it.
Before Lady Indomitable, Georgie was herself, and everyone in this room owe her more than she would ever owed them.
And he had been there.
He had seen everything.
He had seen her cry outside the bathroom, asking him what was she to do now.
Georgie was his best friend. Georgie had always been there, even in his lowest and dumbest times.
Georgie had always been there for everyone, even when they were treating her like shit.
And Hugh knew that.
And he had promised her she could count on him.
“We are to do what we ought to do.” Hugh got on his feet too, and stared at Georgie who had a soaked face at this point.
“And we’ll stick together, like we’ve always done.” He told them, but especially Tamaya. “Whatever Georgie decides…we are to stand by her and support her because she would’ve done the same for us; and we are to love that child like we wanted our parents to love us, or like they loved us before they torn them away from us.”
In the last sentence, he stared at all of them but, like always, his eyes landed on Simon, who stared back.
“So that means you’ll…accept me and my baby?”
All gazes were now directed to Georgie as she, standing there, hugged herself, shaking a sobbing.
Never had she looked so small, Hugh figured. Because she had always been huge. But now she was so…tiny, and vulnerable, with each one of her limbs trembling.
“I’m so scared.” She told them, barely able to speak. “I want it to be okay.”
“…Please tell me it’ll be okay.”
Hugh, then, got closer too, and a shaking, hiccupping, shattered, broken and terrified Georgie fell into his arms, trembling and sobbing against him, and Hugh held her like she had hold him all those times when he was the one who was scared; all those times he felt he wasn’t enough; all those times he believed he had just lost Simon.
Which, Simon’s arms, were the ones to follow, then Evander’s, Kasumi’s, and, hesitating and broken too, Tamaya’s, all gathered around Georgie, holding her like she held their world when it was falling into pieces.
“It’ll be okay.” Hugh promised as she felt her against his shoulder.
“We won’t leave you alone, Georgie. It’ll be okay.”
And this time he felt her.
And not just her, but the rest of them.
They all just stood there, hugging her, as they walked together into the storm. Afraid, but brave enough to try.
“…We’re here.” Tamaya whispered, as her wings wrapped all of them, like blanket.
“We’re here, Georgie.”
They were, indeed.
They would always be.
-.-
“You can stay here if you like…and if you don’t have anywhere else to go.” Simon told her, the day she woke up from a very long nap and was able to shower, to eat, to drink, to exist with dignity, under a roof, in a warm space. “It’s…my basement it’s not much but…We’ll make do. You…Y-you saved my life and…I don’t know. You can stay.”
Georgia didn’t save his life that day.
She just stopped him from falling.
Nevertheless, a life was indeed saved that day.
And she would forever be grateful.
“If nobody’s willing to go after you now…” Kiernan said. “Someday somebody will.”
AGSHJAGSHJK HELLOOOO AGSHJA..So...this chapter is arriving pretty late...later than usual because, once again, I am very dumb and I felt the physical need to add two scenes :)
From up here, both Tamaya and her had a very good view of the suspects; they were speeding in an old truck, which looked as if it were about to lose a whole door or a tire.
The robbery had been reported less than an hour ago, and they had tried to identify the escape vehicle as soon as possible; these days, robbing a bank was considered a very severe crime. After all, people liked to joke about physical money going extinct.
People liked to joke about physical money going extinct, but, sadly, they weren’t wrong, and banks were important; robbing them was one of the worst things a person could do, even if it was out of necessity; so, indeed, they had tried to take care of the issue as soon as possible.
And, from what Georgia could see, the ones who were travelling by land and Tamaya, who was a couple of feet apart from her, were not having much trouble, nor did they seem to have their usual dose of adrenaline and stress intoxicating their system yet. After all, this was a regular persecution.
In other words, the most calm and peaceful issue they had faced in the past months even if it was still very important.
Yet, Georgia was having an awful time.
Even though she was lucid enough to realize Tamaya was not that far away from her, through her shaky and blurry vision, she looked like a mirage, and the yellow in her wing tips danced around her like a waving, translucent flag, which was making Georgia go crazy. And, not to mention, she was slowing down more and more with every second, because she couldn’t focus and that made her self-conscious of the fact she was vulnerable to lose balance.
It had happened a couple of times, but only a couple. And when it did, her powers acted in her favor, sending a very violent wave of adrenaline through her body and making it jump or at least bounce upwards, shooting her into the air, up and up, until she regained control over her senses; it always made her ears hurt, as if her eardrums were about to explode and, sometimes, it made her vomit right after she touched the ground.
Georgia didn’t need that today.
Most importantly, she didn’t want it.
When Tamaya changed directions, Georgia had to see her spin from behind, and that sent a weird sensation of vertigo to the center of her belly, which somehow infiltrated into her brain and, consequently, activated her gag reflex.
She knew couldn’t do it.
She couldn’t.
Not today, Georgia.
Not today.
As careful as her physical state allowed her to, Georgia went down, landing with a stump by the nearest alleyway, where she leaned against the wall using her hand, with the upper part of her body bent forward, and her free hand by her throat.
The dizziness and nausea were so intense she actually thought she was going to do something else. However, she just spat a couple of times, which was not enough to get rid of the bitter taste in her mouth or the way her throat kept contracting and expanding, along with her chest.
Then, out of a sudden, Georgia’s agony was interrupted; the second she felt the warm hand in her shoulder, she jumped, startled; nevertheless, she had been around Tamaya long enough to recognize her touch, so it didn’t take much before she recovered from the fright and patted Tamaya’s hand instead, sniffing, as a way to reassure everything was fine.
Tamaya didn’t buy it, and that didn’t surprise Georgia at all, but at the same time it made her feel relieved because she needed the support right now.
“Must’ve been the altitude.” Georgia said, trying way too hard to catch her breath. Tamaya scoffed as she helped her up. Even with her help, Georgia stumbled a little, as her head was still spinning like a disco ball.
“I’ve seen you fly way higher. I mean, you were way up there when you abducted Tsunami.”
They both chuckled. A short while after the Gatlon Gazette incident, they all gathered in the dining table to talk about what had happened. To this day, Georgia considered that a very important moment in their relationship, standing almost by the top of the heart to heart talks they had had in the years they had been living together; basically, they had talked about everything that had gone wrong that day…well, almost everything, because there were some things Georgia didn’t want to tell them (One thing), because she considered it to be too intimate and too private.
But they were fine with it now. It had even become an inside joke.
“I’m just…having a rough time right now.”
Tamaya hissed.
“First day?”
And the answer for that, actually, was a no. Which was borderline weird, because Georgia, although she had some irregularities now and then due to stress, never missed a period.
She hadn’t had her period since March, more or less, and it was now June.
Georgia wanted to believe it was just a stress thing. After all, a lot of awful things had been happening during the year; the Puppeteer had taken over Cosmopolis Park back in January, the Vandal Cartel had set the Gatlon Gazette offices in March, they had fought with the Anarchists non-stop during April, then they had attended the memorial for the victims of the attack to Cosmopolis Park in late May (which for some reason had made her too emotional; she had entered the event in the calmest state she had ever been, only to choke in her own tears five minutes later)…and even if it didn’t sound like that much, Georgia was under a ridiculously huge amount of pressure and stress; between the feeling of being hit against a wall over and over, with a specific pace and motion, and the constant migraines, irritability and nausea, it was easy for her to say her body had just gone crazy and needed time to stabilize itself; however, even if her period had the right to get mad and stop talking to her for months, for no specific reason, she was very conscious about what she had done back in March.
Having unprotected sex was how people got pregnant, got STDs, or both at the same time.
Yet, to that thought, given its catastrophic, unfortunate and fatalistic nature, Georgia couldn’t help but think only one thing:
Yikes.
And she chuckled, although it almost sounded like she had only scoffed, and that ended up sending the wrong message to Tamaya.
“You should’ve stayed at home, or at least at the Headquarters.” She told her as she rubbed her back. “I mean, it’s a robbery. It’s…not mild, but we could’ve managed.”
Another thing she had noticed was that, after the Gatlon Gazette incident, everyone had been more considerate and aware of her personal needs, which made her feel happy. Georgia loved them because, after all, they were her family, and she liked to take care of them sometimes because that was just her; somebody who liked to help and make others feel comfortable; however, she was her own person too; a person who had necessities and feelings.
And, that day at the Gatlon Gazette, they had deliberately skipped over that, which had caused her to lose every gram of patience she had left in her body, a phenomena that happened to be super rare when it came to her but, she supposed, had to happen at some point because everyone had their limits and that day she reached hers. Sure, they had apologized and everything, and since Georgia was not one to hold a grudge for too long, she considered that incident to be forgiven, but apparently her losing her grip on spot, “abducting” Kasumi and screaming unholy words only that only Hugh and Tamaya said on a daily basis, gave them a good scare.
So they had been acting pretty…sensitive and empathetic towards her since that day. Georgia appreciated that, but still she couldn’t help but feeling sympathy for them sometimes, being all scared every time she seemed to get slightly annoyed at something, not because they thought she might lose it again, but because they thought it was their fault.
“Actually…” Georgia tried to focus on Tamaya once again, but she was yet to finish her sentence when she was interrupted by the sound of commotion.
Even before coming to a mutual realization of what had happened, Tamaya and her rushed out of the alley, only to witness the chaos.
The guys had stopped the car by the end of the block; apparently, they had gone for stopping it before it could drive away even further; Simon was still carrying Evander, grabbing him by his armpits, because, apparently, they had used Evander to blind the driver and make them lose control of the vehicle; Kasumi was holding a small wave, just in case, and Hugh was holding the truck by the front, after having stopped it from crashing against the wall of a hardware store.
Once Hugh’s eyes landed in both Tamaya and her, he scoffed.
“Hello? You were supposed to help.”
“Seems like you’ve got it under control, Captain.” Despite the dizziness that remained there, threatening to make her system malfunction, Georgia managed to arch an eyebrow and smile.
“Excuse you.” Evander laughed from Simon’s arms (he seemed to be very comfortable there, somehow). “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way and I’m starting to get tired of you using me as a flashlight.”
“And what are you?” Hugh asked, mockingly. But just as Evander’s face was starting to turn as red as his hair, Georgia clapped her hands one time, laughing.
“Alright, very funny and everything, but don’t fight, little duckies of mine.” She asked them. “Let’s just get this over with. Captain?”
“Of course. Blame it on Captain Chromium.” Hugh said. By his tone, she could tell he was just pretending to be angry, because she still could see him laughing between his teeth.
After that, they continued with the established routine they had never agreed to follow but had gotten used to anyway.
Like scavenger birds, when the situation was under control and the robbery’s authors had been sent to one of the chromium prisons, some reporters arrived to the scene, so they were semi-forced to stay there for at least one more hour and pose for the cameras, pretending they weren’t exhausted.
Standing under the burning sun while in a (very hot) one piece suit during June only made Georgia feel weaker and sicker, but she managed to smile, or at least to show her best attempt of a smile.
“You know…” Tamaya whispered, standing next to her. “Maybe Movie Night will help.”
And yes.
Maybe Movie Night would help. After all, they all had been looking forward to have time for Movie Night all year.
-.-
It didn’t help. Because, while the movie played in the background, Georgia was leaned against the toilet spitting her guts out, just because, for some reason, the idea of the tortilla chips with nacho cheese tasting like damp cardboard had gotten into her head.
They had eaten those a million times, even as an actual meal, when they couldn’t afford to cook anything else, and yet in this one occasion it had just….occurred to her it tasted like damp cardboard. Just because she said so, with no further proof or reasons to state it.
So she refused to touch the bowl, but its mere presence on the table made her feel annoyed, uncomfortable and deeply disgusted, until she couldn’t take it anymore.
Hugh was the first one to come into the bathroom with her, holding her hair back, because she had an intermittent headache going on and had decided to let her hair down after taking a shower; her own situation made her feel grossed out (which, ironically, made her sicker) and Hugh…
He was right there, knelt right behind her, very close to her face, frowning out of concern and pretending he wasn’t gagging too, because Hugh was pretty…funny about hearing gag reflexes and physically seeing someone in the process of throwing up (he could pick up dead bodies from the floor but he was pretty weird about vomit).
Tamaya was by the door, blocking the view from Evander and Kasumi, and Simon had gotten out of the bathroom a couple of seconds ago to go look for any type of medicine and a glass of water.
Once Georgia was done, her stomach felt completely empty, but at the same time she felt as if it was being stirred like a bowl full of soup. It was the most uncomfortable thing she had ever felt in her entire life, so she managed to pull down the lid and rest her head on top of it, groaning; through the corner of her eye, she saw Hugh’s hand passing by, to flush the toilet for her.
“Thank you, darling.” She managed to mutter.
Hugh didn’t respond.
“We haven’t been eating really healthy.” He told her after a while.
He was right, because, lately, they didn’t have time for anything but grab a (not so healthy) snack from the coffee bar they had at the Headquarters. Georgia’s lowest moment in her life to this day had been eating chili from a mug, accompanied by a mini bag of Cheetos and a soda she had stolen from Evander, at 8:00 AM. Right after telling Evander he couldn’t have Cheetos and soda because it was 7:45 AM.
“A stomach bug, maybe?”
A stomach bug, to Georgia, seemed the tiniest bit unlikely, especially taking into account that she had baked this week’s butter cookies for the coffee table herself, with Hugh’s help. And, despite being a little impatient, Hugh wasn’t a bad cook, nor baker.
“Last week’s chicken was pretty bad too, not gonna lie.” Tamaya said from the door. “Perhaps that?”
“I don’t think so.” Georgia admitted.
Last week, they had ordered a bucket of fried chicken from a place that appeared to be going bankrupt and, as a last resource, had lowered their prices.
The chicken wasn’t fried (it just had a thin layer of crust above the meat, which Georgia suspected was just the skin), some of the pieces were undercooked or overcooked and, overall, it wasn’t what they had promised them; but, the weird thing was, Georgia hadn’t been utterly disgusted and offended by it like the rest of them. It wasn’t the best chicken she had eaten in her entire life, but it could’ve been worse.
Gosh.
It could’ve been so much worse.
“I did like that chicken.”
“Yeah, but the fact you liked it doesn’t make you immune to get salmonella because of it.”
“But it hadn’t gone bad yet. It shouldn’t have…”
“Please quit encouraging her to get salmonella.” Tamaya stepped aside to let Simon in.
He then handed a glass of water to Georgia, but proceeded to say:
“Seems like we’re out of antacids.” He told her, kneeling next to her and talking at a very low volume, as if he wanted to give her more privacy, given that there were three people here with her, and the only thing stopping Kasumi and Evander from coming in too was Tamaya.
“Is your tummy very upset?”
Georgia didn’t hesitate before answering.
“It’s not upset. I’m just very nauseous.”
“Heatstroke.” Kasumi suggested, overhearing her. “I mean…It’s a possibility. We were out in the sun for a while today and you didn’t seem to be feeling okay there, either.”
No response.
“I’ve had to take some surfers out of the water because of heatstroke.”
And yes, to a certain extent, it made sense. To a certain extent. And even so, it still felt forced, as if Georgia were just trying to find an answer that didn’t imply to face the worst scenario.
On the other hand, maybe…
Maybe this was, finally, PMS, mixed with heatstroke.
Georgia knew a heatstroke could only last so much before getting you killed, and that if that was her case, she would be dead by now.
But she also knew it would take her mind out of the subject for a while, so she decided to take it.
“Maybe you’re right, Kasumi. It could be heatstroke.”
Kasumi got on her tiptoes to pat Tamaya’s shoulder, causing her to move a little to the side to let her in, as if she wanted Georgia to see her, the person who had given her a pseudo diagnosis; a diagnosis that made so little sense to Georgia it was almost impossible it was accurate, but also one that, deep down, she hoped it was.
She wanted it to be. Badly.
“I’m going to make you some sparkling lemonade.”
“Yeah. Good luck with that.” Tamaya sighed, before Georgia could respond anything. “We’re out of lemons.”
And…of course they were out of lemons, even though at this point sparkling lemonade did sound good; for some reason, that made her upset, and she had to bite her lip to make the itchiness of her eyes to go away, right after sipping from the glass of water Simon had brought her.
“That should be no problem.” Hugh scoffed. “Evander?!”
“What?” Evander answered from behind Tamaya.
“You’ll have to go to the neighbors’ house and ask them for some lemons.”
“Ah, man.”
Referring to them as “neighbors” was putting it lightly; Simon’s house, really, was located in the middle of nowhere, close to an area where some train rails remained unfinished because Gatlon’s last mayor had been killed (by Ace Anarchy, supposedly) before the project could be concluded.
The majority of the residents around the place were forced to leave, but there were others, like Simon’s family (from his mother’s side, at least) who refused to do so. Overall, this zone had too few inhabited houses, which meant that, in reality, this so called neighbors’ house, was at least 10 or 15 minutes away by foot. They were a married couple whose children had already moved out and now had a small garden where they cultivated most of their food.
“But, like, they sell their stuff now. I can’t just go and tell them to give me lemons. Unless, of course, I go as…”
“No. You’re not going as Blacklight.” Tamaya interrupted him. “Bring me my purse.”
“Ish. Touchy. Where is it?”
“In the drawer.”
Georgia heard Evander walking away, and she couldn’t help but smile weakly, as she handed the glass back to Simon and rested her head on the lid again, closing her eyes while she felt the nausea coming back.
So she closed her eyes, and she was so comfortable she could’ve fallen asleep right there.
“TAM, THERE’S 6 DRAWERS IN HERE! WHICH ONE?!”
Tamaya said something intelligible, and then she walked away screaming something at Evander.
Georgia’s stomach and throat were bubbling like sparkling water.
She barely lifted the lid up on time.
-.-
Georgie’s nausea got better in the following week, although Simon, given that the only thing separating him from Georgie in the bed was Evander, could feel her getting up earlier than the rest of them in the morning, in a rush, to go upstairs, running straight into the bathroom.
Yet, she had refused to skip her shift; she didn’t skip one day, even if it was just for sitting at the Headquarters doing the bare minimum, as they refused to let her out to go stand under the burning June sun.
However, through the days, she somehow adopted another weird symptom, which had (apparently) nothing to do with the vomiting and stuff; at some point, Georgie started to be in a constant need to interrupt whatever she was doing because she had to use the restroom, despite them seeing her drink the same amount of water she always consumed, maybe a little less.
Simon, being someone whose nerves played tricks on him sometimes, was no one to talk about that, but in Georgie’s case it was starting to turn into something excessive, to the point she had even complained once about barely being able to remove her suit on time, and Simon had seen her wiggling her foot from underneath the table when they had to attend long press conferences, until she had to excuse herself to leave.
When her constant trips to the restroom started to concern then, she claimed she was leaving the table during press conferences because it was giving her too much anxiety.
Simon didn’t believe her.
Nobody did.
Georgie wasn’t camera shy at all. In fact, Hugh and her were the ones who always had those demonic things shoved in their faces (though Simon couldn’t blame the reporters. Hugh and Georgie were like…extremely gorgeous human beings and their public speaking abilities were the ones of a teenager trying to butter up their parents so they allowed them to go that party in a beach house, four hours away from Gatlon, with that friend they had only seen once).
So, needless to say, it was weird. And more than a new “mania”, Simon considered it a symptom.
But a symptom for what?
He was so immersed in his own thoughts that he jumped and almost slipped in the shower (He really needed to start using flip flops there. Showering while barefoot was dangerous) when he heard the three gentle knocks in the door.
“Simon, darling.”
Georgie.
“Are you almost done in there?”
“Uhm…” Simon saw his shaving cream and razor next to him, still intact. “…Listen, I love you and I don’t want to give you false expectations so…uhm…”
“Yeah. I understand. But, may I ask you to speed it up a little? I kinda…”
“It’s okay.” Simon closed the shower curtains and, just in case, turned invisible.
“You can come in if you really need to.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfor—“
“Gigi, just do it.” Simon chuckled.
An eternity had passed since he had last called her that because, more than a nickname everyone knew about, it was an inside joke.
When Georgie started living with them, for three whole days Simon didn’t remember her name, until Hugh said it out loud. He had been so embarrassed about it, that during that time he refused to address her out loud (even though he had been the one who tell her she could stay as long as she needed, because when she saved him from falling to his death, she was basically homeless) and called her “Gigi” in his head, because the only thing he could remember was that her name started with a G and had an I in it.
He later confessed that to her and, of course, Georgie laughed, just like she was doing now.
Simon tried to pay as little attention as he could to her, because he knew that he would’ve liked her to do the same for him if he ever saw himself in the necessity to do something like this.
Less than three minutes later, he heard the toilet flush, and then the water from the sink.
“You’re an angel.” Georgie said. “Imagine if I had asked Evander instead, he would’ve gone absolutely nuts.”
Simon couldn’t help but laugh.
“Georgia whyyyyy” He said.
“Yes!” Georgie let out a shrill laugh.
Because, honestly, they both knew Evander’s voice wasn’t that high.
Not anymore, at least.
“Kay’. I better head out. There’s like three rainclouds in the sky and the crowd is requesting pancakes. I want to make them myself before Evander and Kasumi take the wheel and turn the dough into an unholy concoction.”
Simon giggled.
Now that they were alone in the same room, he thought that, maybe, this was his time to say something; to ask her if she had any idea of what could possibly be wrong with her or if she had any other symptom she was hiding from them; to let her know he was a safe space and, at the same time, remind her they all were a safe space.
But like he had mentioned before, his nerves liked to play tricks on him sometimes.
“Save some pancakes for me, would you?”
-.-
If Hugh didn’t know Georgie well enough, he would’ve said that, after a while, the “There’s only three rainclouds in the sky and you feel like we’re entitled to have pancakes” turned kind of personal and genuinely angry, but he knew her, so he wanted to believe she had started talking with that…odd tone of voice just because she had gotten herself a little cut while slicing a pair of strawberries, which made her irritated.
For like an hour, her vibe was off. Very not Georgie.
Then she cooled down, once they were gathered around the living room, playing Scrabble while eating pancakes and drinking hot chocolate (that Simon had made).
Maybe, in the end, she had gotten a little mad because they kept insisting on the fact it was going to rain that night.
And if she had, Hugh guessed, she was regretting it now, because by the time they went to bed, it was storming outside, and the raindrops were hitting against the roof so hard it kept Hugh in a barely awake and barely asleep limbo.
He was a heavy sleeper, but not if he was having trouble falling asleep in the first place, which was the case that night. In fact, everyone seemed to be moving around the two beds too much that night. Kasumi, who rarely disturbed anyone, was constantly kicking them and shifting her position so often it was almost annoying; perhaps they were too…conditioned and they were expecting a flare to show up in the sky, calling for the Renegades, although things had been really calm today. In fact, despite not being able to fall asleep, Hugh wanted to believe they wouldn’t have to leave the house today.
People got up every now and then to put buckets under the numerous roof leaks that were threatening to flood the room. Hugh himself got up once to check on the living room leaks, and by that time, the clock stated it was almost midnight (they had gone to bed kind of early that day).
When he got in the bed again and Simon laid on his chest (just like he always did when Hugh left the bed for an unknown reason and then came back) he started falling asleep again.
So deeply this time, that he thought the image of Kasumi sitting on the bed, hugging her lower stomach and leaned forward, had been a very lucid dream.
He didn’t realize it hadn’t been so, until he heard the sobs, followed by the steps and the opening and closing of doors, followed by the feeling of someone shaking him, a few minutes…or perhaps hours later.
When people were asleep, they didn’t have any notion of time.
“Hugh…Hey.”
Another shake.
“Hugh. Wake up.”
“Uhm.”
“Hugh. Please.”
His eyelids felt heavy, but Hugh managed to open them anyway, and once his eyes got used to the dark, he identified Georgie, kneeling next to him.
“What is it?” He babbled, still half asleep.
“Okay. You’re gonna laugh.”
That tone and that phrase itself made him realize he was not going to laugh.
At all.
“I need you to take me to get some pills.”
They were speaking in a very, very low volume, in order not to wake Simon or Evander up (Hugh couldn’t see the shadow of Tamaya’s wings anymore, which meant she was gone too), but he understood the sentence perfectly, and he incorporated a little, putting his weight on his elbow.
“What’s wrong?” He asked.
Georgie sighed.
“Kasumi is having really bad cramps and we’re out of medicine. Like. We don’t have any medicine. At all.”
He knew that.
Donating all their medicines to a children’s hospital had seemed like a good idea a month ago, before people in the house decided to get sick.
Though, Hugh knew they had meant well although it had been a really stupid decision, and that getting sick hadn’t been their fault.
This wasn’t Kasumi’s fault, for sure. It’s not like she had chosen things to happen that way in order to make them feel bad for not having any medicines in hand.
Hugh hissed.
“Yikes.” He said.
He was a man. And, even worse, he was a man whose superpower happened to be invincibility. He rarely felt any pain. He knew he didn’t understand. He knew he would never understand. But he appreciated Kasumi, so he tried repeating something he had heard from the girls themselves at some point.
Like a brainless parrot who was doing his best.
“Have you tried giving her tea or something?”
In response, Georgie blinked, almost as if she thought Hugh was refusing to something.
He wasn’t.
Like, driving in the rain was pretty dangerous, but he knew Georgie wouldn’t have even suggested it if it weren’t necessary.
But yeah.
Once again, Hugh knew he would never understand what that felt like, even if, given that he lived with three women, he tried to be as respectful and empathetic as he could. He knew Georgie knew that. But, being aware that feeling empathy was all that he could do, he understood why she might’ve gotten the wrong idea, because not all men were out there trying their best to avoid talking with their dick about the subject (which was none of their business in the first place to be honest) and not all men were as sensitive and understanding as Simon.
“She’s in a lot of pain, Hugh.”
“Yeah. I know.” Hugh sighed and, right after that, he started getting up, to which Georgie got on her feet too and disappeared upstairs.
After putting on his shoes (flip flops…) and brushing his hair with his fingers, Hugh joined the girls upstairs.
The whole house smelled like peppermint tea and wet ground, thanks to the rain outside; the main lights were not on, but the small lamps on the two tables by the couch were; and those had a cool, soft white light to them, which made the living room seem extremely comfortable and welcoming. For a rainy night like this one, at least.
Hugh found Kasumi by the couch, snuggled up with Tamaya, who was falling asleep on spot, while rubbing her back and making a little “sssh” sound that seemed to be lulling her to sleep more than it was lulling Kasumi. He could see that, as she hug Tamaya, Kasumi was shaking while trying to adjust the blanket around her own body.
“Hey, Zoomie.”
Slowly, he walked towards the couch and sat on the arm rest.
“…Hey.” She answered in a weak, hoarse voice, barely smiling while looking at him, to which Hugh pinched her nose, playfully.
Kasumi didn’t say a word, but went towards him and rested her head on his knee. Hugh rubbed her back and tried to braid her hair, before he remembered he didn’t know how to braid and gave up.
Hugh scratched Kasumi’s head gently until Georgie appeared with her hair tied in a ponytail and a white hoodie, and they ran like idiots towards the truck, under the rain.
-.-
Maybe it was the fact they were in a rush because Kasumi, indeed, was in a lot of pain, but it seemed like it took them forever to find a 24 hours pharmacy.
First they tried to go to the nearest market or spots surrounding the house, where they had no success, hence, they proceeded to force themselves to drive all the way downtown under the storm (Hugh could barely see anything), park in the first empty spot they saw, and enter the shittiest-looking naturistic pharmacy that had ever existed in Gatlon, in front of an equally shitty restaurant that had been out of business for a good five years or so.
The initial idea was to send Georgie inside the pharmacy alone, until Hugh came to the realization it was past midnight. Sure, besides being Georgia Rawles, Georgie was Lady Indomitable. She was more than capable to defend herself, but Hugh knew that, after all, not all men were him or Simon. The majority of the men Hugh knew were…a walking red flag.
There had been times he had been in crime scenes where some gross psycho had done something horrible to their wife, whom they claimed hadn’t respected them and had it coming.
Like, skies, they were exhausting sometimes.
He knew that, since it was so late, if a man happened to be behind that cash register, he wouldn’t hesitate before getting really disgusting around Georgie. She was strong, brave and independent enough to defend herself, but Hugh didn’t want her to experience something like that. If he had the power to stop something from happening, then he would use that power.
When they entered, after insisting for a while because Georgie claimed she was okay going alone, Hugh figured he had made the right choice.
There, indeed, was a man behind the cash register. Was he a prodigy? Hugh couldn’t tell, but he had the looks of somebody who didn’t want to be there, especially not this later at night.
He should’ve been in his 40s, and he was wearing a very thick Christmas sweater, even though it was summer. His dark hair looked slightly greasy, and the extreme redness in his face made Hugh think he was wearing a sweater for the simple reason he was recovering from severe sunburn.
If that was the case, then poor guy.
But that didn’t excuse the greasy hair, or the fact that he stared at Georgie as soon as they entered the pharmacy.
Stared at her as in...he really stared at her. Maybe she had seemed familiar, but maybe she hadn’t.
So, like any good friend would’ve done, Hugh held her hand, making her flinch, before she realized what was happening and rolled with it.
This wasn’t the first time they pretended to be a couple in public, and their reasons to do it were, most of the time, related to the other’s safety...especially Georgie’s. Hugh didn’t have a cute resting face (at least, not when he was out as a civilian) and his body looked huge compared to other people’s, which made him seem like the type of gal a person wouldn’t want to mess with. Now, Georgie could break someone’s neck without trying too hard, but everyone knew damn well she would never, unless the person really, really deserved it. Even so, she was still a firm believer that the Death Penalty was just the easiest path for those who deserved to rot in jail.
Georgie was very gentle, both as a Renegade and as a civilian. And she believed a lot of things. She believed that one should never enter a room somebody was in without knocking, that you shouldn’t try to make small talk when the other person was evidently busy, and that if a person looked uncomfortable when you were staring at them, then you should stop.
That last thing wasn’t that hard to understand.
Yet, nobody seemed to get it. Ever.
It always made Hugh go nuts.
Georgie, from her part, always fixed a glare when she noticed somebody was staring at her in a way she didn’t like, but other times not even that was enough, and that was the moment when Hugh took her hand.
Christmas Sweater Guy followed them with his eyes. Looking in retrospect, perhaps they had just seemed familiar to him but, either way, Hugh didn’t let go of her hand, which was starting to sweat for some reason. Maybe she was hot in that hoodie, he supposed. But it was storming outside. The weather wasn’t that hot.
Never mind.
The pharmacy was odd, to put it lightly. It was a rustic building, and the fact there were some regular medicines next to the naturistic ones felt like a collision of the timeline. The entire place smelled like herbs and bread (there was an aisle where they sold homemade bread. Multi grain bread and that stuff) and Hugh wondered if that’s what a college dorm smelled like, for some reason.
In the naturistic aisle, there were all kinds of diet pills, and alternative medicines for different diseases, as well as tea leaves, food supplements, healing oils and bath salts.
Those ones were more likely cheaper, but Georgie walked directly towards the regular aisle, perhaps to save time, instead of stopping to ask what herb would be useful to relieve that type of pain.
They didn’t walk into the pills first. In fact, they went to personal care instead.
Kasumi hadn’t asked for anything specific before they left but, Hugh supposed, Georgie was just being her, looking at all the possible scenarios.
Hugh didn’t understand why pad boxes were so colorful. From what he could see, periods weren’t fun and full of rainbows. It was all whining and suffering and somebody asking Simon to look at their butts to check if there were any stains on them, because they didn’t trust Hugh to do it (“Because you bend over like you’re trying to let the whole world know.” “I’M TALL, TAMAYA!””WE’RE ALMOST THE SAME HEIGHT, YOU DIPSHIT!”).
Georgie said it was for making teenage girls feel more comfortable. However, when she was angry, she said it was for justifying how expensive those things were.
She compared prices for a short while, before throwing a purple box into Hugh’s arms.
Because of course he would be the one to carry the stuff around like a supermarket cart.
“Let’s get going, love.” Georgie said, faking a flirty tone and, more than seductively rubbing his chin, scratching it, like she was trying to pop a pimple. “We don’t have all night, do we?”
“Rawr.”
“Meow.”
Trying to hold back a snort, Hugh recalled that time he took Evander to a fast food restaurant and, while they were waiting for his nuggets, a couple came in and started making out, grossly, in one of the tables at the back. In front of the kid.
He wasn’t that big of a clown, but he did come closer to Georgie’s ear and, no shame, he whispered:
“I’m going to take you into a stinky fast food restaurant and…”
Georgie snorted so hard it sounded like she had passed gas, which caught the cashier’s attention.
Hugh and her remained frozen in the same position, with Hugh placing one hand in her back, and a bright purple box of pads in the other one.
Christmas Sweater Guy was judging them, staring into their souls with his tired eyes.
And Georgie smiled from ear to ear.
“I didn’t fart, sweetheart, it was with my mouth.”
The guy’s eyebrow arched further, very sharp.
“I can confirm that. Yes. She didn’t fart.”
His expression changed. He didn’t look like a person who was judging them now. Rather, he looked like someone who didn’t know how to respond to that at all. The face of an utterly confused, absolutely lost individual because these two dunces were doing weird stuff in the pharmacy, in the middle of the night.
He tried to answer, but couldn’t bring himself to. So, in order to ignore them, he just nodded and reached for a magazine, pretending he was reading it.
Georgie waited for a couple of seconds, then she moved to another aisle and got Kasumi’s pills which, Hugh supposed, she knew pretty well. They were pretty lucky too, because it was the last box left.
Then, they were ready to go to the cashier, but before they could, Georgie stopped, staring into a blank space. Hugh could see her heartbeat in her neck, and he saw her chest going down when she exhaled, letting out all the breaths she was holding.
“Hey…” Hugh said, in a very low volume, placing his hand on her shoulder. “…you…you okay?”
In that bare second, Georgie’s face glowed again, turning back at him.
“You know what, sweetie? I think we should take care of the bun in the oven business first…can you bring me a pregnancy test?”
Being that said, Hugh didn’t feel worried anymore, and smiled to her again, biting his lip in such an exaggerated way it was almost comical, and proceeding to salute her, before walking backwards, into another aisle.
“Thanks, you’re an angel, baby!”
“Back at you…” He tried to look for another ridiculous nickname and, for some reason, he only remembered the fact Lady Indomitable’s costume was golden. “…buttercup!”
When he arrived into the corresponding aisle and saw that price, Hugh wondered whether maybe they were taking this joke too far, until he decided they weren’t because, in the end, it was already too late to clarify they weren’t a couple. The Christmas Sweater Guy was already too disturbed.
After that, they proceeded to pay for the stuff, and while the guy printed their ticket, Hugh pinched Georgie’s cheek until she slapped him and told him, in a fake squeaky voice, that “not here”.
The guy flinched. So, before Georgie could meow again, Hugh nudged her in the rib area, mildly, trying not to laugh.
“Stop.” She giggled. “You’re gonna kick our baby out of my womb.”
“Oh, will I? But I think little Johnny is pretty comfy right there, inside of y—“
“Have a great night.”
The paper bag was practically shoved into their faces, notifying them Christmas Sweater Guy was, in less kinder words, kicking them. That was, actually, not as offensive as it sounded.
They had it coming.
It was still storming outside, but the weather was more bearable than before, to the point when, by the time they got into the car, they weren’t dripping wet. At least they had that.
And Kasumi’s pills. That was the most important thing out of the bunch.
Nevertheless, Hugh couldn’t help but laugh when he saw the pregnancy test, greeting him from the inside of the bag, reminding him how much money they had wasted in an attempt to drive a cashier crazy.
It was hysterical.
“Dude.” Hugh said, with a hiccupping laugh, holding the little box in front of Georgie. “Simon and Tamaya are going to be so mad. We should get rid of this if we don’t want to get killed on spot, like…”
That’s when he noticed.
Georgie wasn’t staring back at him.
At anything, actually.
She was looking out the window, biting her nails, watching as the raindrops hit the car, in silence. Very calm. Very weird. Very not Georgie.
Not Georgie.
She was also breathing slowly, although Hugh could tell she wasn’t crying, which…was a good thing, but that didn’t mean it made him less worried. He was worried about her, for the mere fact that, a few seconds ago, she was laughing and joking, and now she was…
Gloomy.
“Georgs?” Hugh called her, tilting his head to the side, suddenly serious too. “Is everything okay?”
She didn’t answer at first, but when she seemed to realize Hugh was talking to her, she took a deep, very deep breath, shifting her position in order to stare back at him, clicking her tongue and rubbing her forehead before speaking.
“Yeah. Everything’s….fine. I’m just…I’m worried.”
Something filled Hugh’s body, which he was sure was relief.
A very empty, mediocre sense of relief that made him believe, naively, that they would just cut it off right after this.
“Oh, Georgs.” He smiled. “Zoomie’s going to be fine. I’m sure that’s just…you know…normal. That type of pain is normal, isn’t it?”
He knew it was normal unless it got abnormally bad, just like he knew that was not the issue taking Georgie’s mind at the moment.
He just knew, maybe because he knew her well enough.
Besides, Georgie was only a year older than Tamaya, and yet she had kept herself together the first time Tamaya appeared in the room, clueless, telling her she was dying. So, Georgie was pretty chill about these issues. She was sensitive, patient, a very good person… And she was also a thinking human being. She knew how to keep calm.
There was something more to this.
“It’s…not about Kasumi.”
Of course it wasn’t.
“And certainly not about her period.” Georgie scoffed, in a rather ironic way. “…It’s about mine.”
Hugh’s blood went cold. He felt locked inside of a freezer.
He didn’t know what that meant, actually.
His mind was too…clouded by everything surrounding it, and the sentences didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense.
But he tried to understand.
Georgie would’ve done it for him.
“Do you… want to talk about it?” He asked.
Being that said, he managed to look into her eyes through the faint lights from the outside, and he realized they were red.
Not red as in “Allergy to humidity” red, but as in “I really need to cry” red.
At this point, she knew she wouldn’t fool him even if she tried her best, so Hugh reached for her hand, slowly, as a non-verbal way to ask for her consent.
Georgie didn’t reject him. She just started playing with his fingers, distant. Trying not to cry. Trying to phrase what she wanted to say. Trying to tell him what was wrong.
She opened her mouth a couple of times, but ended up closing it without saying a word each one of those.
Hugh waited until she felt ready.
“If I told you something…something very…intimate, yet irresponsible and…not bad but…uhm…kind of dumb.” She started, avoiding eye contact.
“Would you think differently about me?”
Would you think differently about me?
What was that supposed to mean?
She should’ve known the answer by now.
Being brutally honest, Hugh thought she should’ve been aware that wouldn’t happen. Ever. Unless she had killed someone, but she was Georgie.
She would never.
Hugh couldn’t bring himself to understand why she thought that way.
Why she thought that…whatever she had done would change the way Hugh looked at her.
The fact that she even considered that to be an option was…he didn’t know.
Heartbreaking, perhaps.
“I would never, Georgs.” He squeezed her hand. “…What….what is it? I’m…”
He laughed, nervously.
“I’m here for you.”
“I know.”
“Yeah, well. I’m glad you know.” Hugh gulped. “But… you can tell me, I won’t…I’m not…”
“The day of the Gatlon Gazette incident…”
Lord. That fucking day.
Hugh despised all the memories about it. He wanted to burn them. To obliterate them from existence. It had been such a nasty day and such a low moment in his career as a struggling superhero.
“Remember the guy I…rescued? The one who was about to jump from the building?”
Not particularly, but he would be lying if he said he couldn’t recall seeing Georgie as she flew away carrying a man. He remembered it mostly because, when Georgie flew away with him, she didn’t come back.
For hours.
“I might have an idea.”
Georgie didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she played, interlocking her fingers between Hugh’s and then tapping them, and measuring them in comparison to hers, and running her thumb through his knuckles.
Hesitating.
Thinking.
Then, laughing, with a strange sense of pain in that laugh.
“Hugh, I’m…” She gulped hard. “I’m…very late.”
For a moment, Hugh didn’t understand what she was talking about, but then, looking at the context, he somehow figured it out.
The Gatlon Gazette incident. The man falling from the building. Her saying this wasn’t about Kasumi but about her. The memories of it all. The fact she had disappeared for hours that day. The fact she had refused to sleep in the same bed as them for some time. The weird behavior. The vomiting. The dizziness. The odd mood swings. The not so Georgie type of attitude.
A pregnancy test.
Hugh’s face became flushed and, suddenly, he didn’t know what to do with his free hand, although the one interlocked between hers remained the same, making sure she knew he was still there.
“I’m…” Hugh scratched his brow, careful not to hurt himself. “Are you…sure?”
“Well, I’m…sort of not.” Georgie smiled, sad. “That’s why I…you know.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“I don’t want to…make it at home. So…I was wondering…” She started, in a way she almost seemed scared to ask for the favor, though she had nothing to be scared about. “Can we…take the pills to Kasumi and tell them we have to do something else and then we…?”
“…go to a stinky fast food restaurant?” Hugh didn’t mean to say that, because he didn’t want to come off as insensitive, but the words just escaped his mouth, against his will, as it occurred to him it would be funny.
It was, because Georgie laughed.
A little.
-.-
And the thing about stinky fast food restaurants, was that the fact they were stinky said a lot about how much the workers cared.
Most of the time, they didn’t.
In that case, they were not even able to bring themselves to care when they saw a man and a woman walking together towards the ladies’ restroom, after sharing a sundae in the middle of a stormy night.
Hugh would’ve been lying if he said he didn’t feel mildly bad about it. That is, about the fact the rest of the team thought they had gotten an emergency call from the Headquarters, while they were here sitting in the restroom’s floor, with Georgie sipping from a huge water bottle because she didn’t need to go.
Perhaps this could’ve been considered one of those rare moments when, out of a sudden, the world stopped and you were the only one in it.
The world had stopped, indeed.
They were the only ones in it, indeed.
But this wasn’t fun.
It wasn’t, at all.
There were circumstances when some things just…stopped being fun. This was one of them.
Georgie was leaning her back against the wall, which had any type of obscene phrase and drawing one could think about. Hugh, from his part, was fidgeting with a coin, cross-legged.
The dripping of the sink was the closest thing to background music they had. That, and Georgie drinking from the bottle, of course.
What was it that a person had to say in times like these?
Hugh didn’t know.
Maybe Georgie didn’t know what she wanted to be told.
Maybe she didn’t want to be told anything, either.
Hugh started at the floor, which they had sat on only because it looked recently mopped. Georgie was staring at the ceiling, as she took another sip from the water bottle.
Unconsciously, Hugh stared at her stomach, but although he looked closer than he intended to, he couldn’t find anything that was too weird or out of place.
Georgie looked…normal.
A little bloated, maybe, because she had drank too much water in the last couple of minutes.
Apart from that, everything was the same about her.
She had a little zit on her nose.
A part of him was holding on to that toxic thought.
That nothing ever would happen to you because it was you and nothing ever happened to you because, why would it?
In his mind, Georgie was too careful for something like that to happen to her.
But maybe she wasn’t.
Just maybe.
It’s not that Hugh had an idealization of her…it’s just that…well.
He knew her pretty well.
He wasn’t mad. And, no matter what, he would always stand by her, but that didn’t make this less unexpected. And…somehow…Hugh felt bad for the fact she hadn’t said anything. Not even to him. Not that she was obligated to, but he was…like her best friend, and not being aware she was going through this felt weird. Borderline painful.
She had been worried, and she had had to go through that alone.
“Hey, Georgs?”
“Hugh?”
“You have a zit on your nose. It’s staring at me, like allow me to introduce myself.”
Georgie whined.
“I thought you were going to say something sweet, like don’t worry, Georgia. I’ll get you chicken nuggies so you calm down. Why are we talking about the zits on my nose?”
“It looks like a little on and off button.”
“HUGH!”
“Besides, I don’t talk like that. And I don’t call you Georgia.”
“What about the chicken nuggies?”
“Georgie, I’m broke.”
He wasn’t lying.
They had used their savings for the week in the pharmacy, they barely had managed to buy the sundae and the water bottle and goddamn, were they lucky these people hadn’t charged them for using the bathroom.
“Besides you’re the one who says we can’t eat trash in the middle of the night.”
“Oh, but I can. I’m the oldest.”
“Bro, that is honestly so low.”
Georgie giggled, before taking the water bottle to her mouth again.
Next to her, was the pregnancy test, waiting, and when Georgie put the water bottle down, she shivered, hugging herself, tightly.
Although Hugh physically saw the box, he didn’t see it all at the same time. At the moment, everything was just…numb, and nothing felt real.
Not even his hands, or feet. Or head. Or Georgie.
It felt…
Pretty much like that.
The world had stopped, right before their eyes.
Like staring at the sky from way, way down, or from way up, falling to your death.
Suspended. Immobile.
Surreal.
“…Hugh?”
“Georgs?”
“My bladder is itching and I can’t go if you’re looking at me.”
She didn’t need to say anything else. At all.
And Hugh waited, outside the door, and despite not being free of this weird feeling nothing was real yet, he was able to tell he waited more than five minutes.
Then she came back.
And when she came back, there was a dark shadow all over her face.
Not a word was said.
And he hugged her. Tight.
But he didn’t feel her.
Or perhaps she didn’t feel him, which made him feel like a bad friend.
HAPPY (?) MONDAY <3 It’s HCTTR day <3! (IT’S ALREADY MONDAY HERE IDC).
So, I wasn’t able to write the one chapter that I wanted to have in between, but it was moved to So They Were Hope so, in the end, you’ll see it eventually :’3 thanks for your patience and for not getting mad at me over not being able to post a chapter last Monday :’) I hope you enjoy this one, tho <3
This was one of the most dumb, if not the dumbest thing, that had ever happened to Gatlon. And he wasn’t just talking about the fact that a kid had taken over Cosmopolis Park by himself, without any additional help besides his powers; no. He was talking about the fact that, even after that had happened, they didn’t even have the decency to find a good way to honor the victims of the attack to the park.
One of the main flaws regarding the concept of having a neutral territory, was the fact that the people who liked to go there most likely weren’t; sometimes Winston wondered if there had ever been any fights between enraged parents where they had ended up screaming at the other how disgusting they were for sympathizing with the Renegades or the Anarchists.
He would’ve liked to see that.
Sadly, this was the closest he would ever be to witness something like that. It was amusing, though.
Winston’s attack to Cosmopolis Park had left some victims, and the families of those victims were obviously grieving their dead ones; but, for some reason, not even that was enough to make them act neutral for a minute.
Among those victims, there were both Renegades and Anarchists supporters. Renegades supporters didn’t want their dead ones to be touched by the Anarchists and vice versa; so, both parties had to come up with a system where everyone was “happy”…and, in the end, they agreed to have “lists” with the names of the victims that “belonged” to them; as far as Winston understood, Ace Anarchy hadn’t showed up to the meeting with the families, nor had the Detonator, Tsunami or Blacklight; but even if things had sorted out, attendants said things had gotten out of control, because Captain Chromium spoke over Cyanide until Queen Bee tried to throw a water bottle at him but was stopped by the Dread Warden, only for Queen Bee to then start whining about the sidekick being too close to her and Cyanide claiming he had seen him stepping on her foot purposely.
Basic kindergarten fights; disrespectful and ridiculous.
Besides, the so called tribute act had been procrastinated as if they were getting paid for rescheduling it, because the adult toddlers and the teenage babies refused to get to an agreement on when to hold the act, not because they wanted to hold it in the same day, but because they didn’t…. despite knowing that, at this point, the supporters just wanted their precious tributes to be held once and for all, even if like three months had passed. They just wanted the world to know lives had been lost, and they wanted others to know the names of those lives.
So, when they realized they were walking on thin ice, the Renegades and the Anarchists forced themselves to surrender.
Today, both events were finally being held and televised, on the same day, but in different spots of the city because, to be honest, the Anarchists and the Renegades were very dumb, and so were their supporters, for being stubborn enough to get picky regarding who would honor their deceased relatives.
Winston was just watching from the security room of the park (Cosmopolis Park had its own source of power, so Winston didn’t really have to pay for anything) as he ate cereal, even though it was already past noon.
In one channel, the image of the six Renegades was being broadcasted. They all wearing their masks, boots and signature hairstyles, but not their suits; instead, they were dressed in white; Lady Indomitable had a very simple, below the knee, sleeveless, pleated dress; Tsunami had a calf length, V-neck, chiffon dress with linen loose sleeves and three decorative buttons at the front, in the chest area; Thunderbird was wearing a pantsuit, with a sleeveless top and a vest, which was also white; Captain Chromium had a white funeral suit, which was making him so evidently uncomfortable he almost looked like he was choking in it; the Dread Warden was wearing a buttoned ¾ sleeve shirt along with white pants, and Blacklight was wearing a white polo shirt and a pair of ugly, white sweatpants.
Captain Chromium was standing by the podium, giving a speech about how tragic this event had been and how they were trying their best for justice to be served (If this was their best, then their best was miles away from being enough), while the rest of the Renegades stood two steps behind him, with their heads down, hands by their chests, and Lady Indomitable sobbing as if she had pieces of onion glued to her eyelids.
In another channel, the Anarchists were the ones being broadcasted, although they weren’t in funerary attires; instead, they were just wearing their regular costumes, helmet included in Ace Anarchy’s case, and two empty spots shining due to Queen Bee and the Detonator’s absence (A pride thing, Winston supposed, because they probably hadn’t been able to take the idea of both memorials being held on the same day); and, unlike the Renegades, Ace Anarchy was talking about how the enemy shall fall.
He wasn’t talking about Winston, but about the Renegades, as if Cyanide hadn’t been the one to allow him to take over the park.
Dumb.
So hopelessly and utterly dumb.
“As for the Puppeteer…” Ace Anarchy’s voice came through the screen. “Either he shall be dragged, or he shall be raised.”
Upon hearing his name, Winston smiled from ear to ear, and the spoon full of cereal stopped halfway towards his mouth.
“Good luck with that, grandpa.” He said out loud, as if Ace Anarchy were listening to him.
Then, responding to the sound of his voice, he heard something moving.
Something that came towards him, and placed his paws on Winston’s knee.
At first, he flinched, but then he smiled, and the burning desire to keep on mocking Ace Anarchy suddenly disappeared, replaced for the feeling of fur between his fingers.
“Hey, boy.” Winston greeted, seeing, proudly, as the tail started moving. “You want a treat? Let’s look for a treat. I can’t give you cereal.”
-.-
Tala had been feeling pain in her sleep, but every time she tried to get up and do something about it, she fell asleep again, sometimes even in the same position, thinking about how uncomfortable it was to be all sweaty and with her poor attempt of bangs sticking on her forehead.
Besides, the room was getting hotter and hotter with every second, so Tala had been struggling all night to get the blankets off her, until David came to check on her at some point and helped her; then, he left again, and she could recall, in very blurry vision, him telling her he probably was going to be up the majority of the night, because he had to finish some pieces of weaponry.
Everything else and apart from that memory was a blur as well, even her senses, and the pain that went on for hours and hours until, at some point, her eyes snapped open, as a sudden rush of adrenaline made her take control of her own body for the first time in what it felt like forever; that, sadly, lasted for barely a couple of seconds, because, after a blink, gone was her body again, slipping from her soul and her everything, and disappearing beneath an enormous wave of pain that made her go breathless; she tried to move, but her limbs felt detached and, at the same time, numb, as she wrapped her fingers around the sheets and her eyes overflowed with tears.
Tala couldn’t scream.
The pain was not mild, nor bearable; in fact, it was easily the most horrible, blinding, deafening and overwhelming pain she had ever felt in her entire life, and it made her feel like the lower part of her body and back were being torn away from her.
Yet, denial and fear made her hope…beg, this wasn’t her being into labor yet.
Then, when she dared to look down, the puddle of unknown, colorless fluid beneath her made her realize, accept, this was it.
May 27th, according to the calendar next to the crucifix.
She wasn’t ready.
In fact, she would never be ready, but she would have to force herself to be; that’s when Tala managed to get on her feet, although she didn’t know what she planned on doing afterwards. Maybe looking for David, but she didn’t know where to start because, during those rare occasions she wasn’t asleep, she had refused to allow him to give her “tour” through the cathedral which meant that, even if she were sure looking for David was what she was going for, she wouldn’t have been able to know where to start looking. Still, she kept going, leaning against the nearest wall, although she felt as if she were made of dead weight, and her feet and knees hurt so much she started to wonder for how long she had been out this time, because she was sure she had been asleep even before the contractions started.
As she dragged her feet through the room, she tried to think about what she had learned in the few yoga classes she had attended and what her instructor had told her when she first learned Tala was pregnant:
“Breathing will be your best friend when you’re in labor.”
Which, at the time, sounded like a logical, good advice; but if breathing was her best friend during this, then it was a very awful best friend.
Tala felt like a fish gasping for air while being out of the water, because she couldn’t catch her breath, no manner how hard she tried. And just when she was starting to put herself together, it hit her. Right there. While standing up. And her lower body ached so much she couldn’t bring herself to figure where to take her hands to wave an invisible and inexistent instrument for torture that was drilling all her insides, trying to push out a baby almost against her will.
This time, the grogginess from sleep was gone and Tala became one with her pain, feeling every single fraction of it, even the tiniest ones that tormented her head and hands for holding onto things so tightly.
But she was conscious now, and her agony allowed her to be aware of what she was feeling.
So, while she slowly fell to her knees, Tala screamed as loud as she could, not having made it even halfway through the door; her knees touched the rug, which was still fine by her, but the contact of the rest of her body against a solid surface made her howl, as David’s shirt (which she was wearing as her pajamas) became trapped between her fingers.
She begged for it to stop, but it didn’t. It kept going and going until it appeared to have lasted for an entire hour.
She wanted David.
She needed David.
But when the door opened violently, it wasn’t David she saw.
Instead, she saw Queen Bee, who had taken care of her when David couldn’t, while she was in an almost comatose state like 24/7, changing her clothes, bathing her, changing her drainage bag, taking care of her feeding tube, and yet pretending she didn’t like her every time she caught her awake, before proceeding to ask if the baby was scared of her, as if Tala had some sort of telepathic connection to it; behind her, there was the Detonator, who had –very reluctantly- helped Queen Bee to look after Tala, but she stood by the door, petrified and pale, with her eyes wide open.
For a moment, all noise except her own screams cut off, and Tala allowed Queen Bee to shift and move her around, until she took her to the bed, but Tala was too weak and sore to get on.
It wasn’t supposed to happen like this; she was supposed to go to one of those birthing centers, with a midwife by her side, or at least a doula, helping her so everything went fine with her baby and herself.
With her Nova and herself.
Not this.
Not her, without David, knelt down on the floor of a room in the cathedral Ace Anarchy used as his sanctuary and headquarters, having Queen Bee helping her remove the pieces of clothing that were getting in the way while at the same time barking orders at the Detonator, whom she referred to as “Ingrid” (as well as she referred to Cyanide as “Leroy” and sometimes referred to Ace Anarchy, the Ace Anarchy, as “Acey”).
Saying she was scared was saying too little, because Tala was absolutely terrified and felt like she would pass out at any second now, as contractions kept coming and coming like a storm, and sweat ran down her body like raindrops.
By the time the Detonator came back from the bathroom, carrying the stuff Queen Bee had asked for, Tala was already feeling a ridiculous amount of pressure down there, and had the urgency to push that pressure out.
But she didn’t want to do it.
She couldn’t.
“D-Dave…” Tala called. Although, more than her calling him, it sounded like her begging Queen Bee to bring him.
She needed him.
She wanted him.
“Tala…”
“I want him!”
“TALA, LOOK AT ME!”
She didn’t have time to do it willingly, because Queen Bee grabbed her by the cheeks, firmly, and made her do so; she wasn’t wearing a single drop of makeup, which made her look paler and, somehow, like a whole different person, because her eyebrows were less thick, her skin was scarred with dots that seemed to be caused by chickenpox, and her eyes didn’t look bold and majestic.
Still pretty, though.
Fairly small. Small in every sense possible. But pretty.
“Your husband is with Ace.” She said, in a voice Tala couldn’t even recognize, with an accent different from the one she always used for the public. “Do you think you can wait that long?”
Tala tried to find guts to answer that, yes, she could wait. Out of pure spite and frustration; but even in her questionable mental state, Tala knew she couldn’t.
She couldn’t wait that long.
She couldn’t….
Another wave of pain, and this time she thought about screaming too late, and her interrupted howl turned into a gasp that made her choke in her own saliva; the pressure got stronger and stronger until it was frustrating and unbearable.
That’s when Tala decided to listen to her own body, and she pushed; not slightly, nor delicately; she wanted to get rid of the pain the pressure that numbed her body, so she pushed like she was mad at life.
Which, honestly, maybe she was.
And she needed something to hold on to, so she didn’t reject Queen Bee’s shoulders when she grabbed her arms and placed them there, so she could have space to place her hands on Tala’s thighs in order for her to keep her legs spread; the Detonator, on the other hand, was grabbing her awkwardly from behind, with both hands by her hips to help her maintain a good posture. It reminded her of a very awkward sandwich. The Detonator was the bun behind her, Tala was the ham, and Queen Bee was the other bun, kneeling down in front of Tala, spreading her legs further as if that would help her get a better view of what was happening (though, awkward as it was, Tala was pretty sure she wouldn’t have been able to lay down. She felt better like that, kneeling in the middle).
Once she ran out of air, she stopped pushing, but remained whimpering and shaking.
She knew it was too late now. There wasn’t time for anything.
So when she felt recovered enough, she pushed again; she felt Queen Bee’s flesh beneath her short, bitten nails, as well as the Detonator’s hands pushing on her own flesh harder than they should’ve had.
“It’s… It’s too hot in here.” Tala moaned. Because, at this point, the heat was for real getting too much for her. It was suffocating, to the point she couldn’t even breathe correctly. “…it’s too hot in here, I can’t…”
“INGRID, DO SOMETHING!”
Tala felt the Detonator move, and then she was using one of her hands to fan her with a piece of cardboard, which, obviously, happened to be completely useless, but Tala was too invested in her own thing to take the time to tell her that (besides she didn’t hate herself enough to risk her life by telling the Detonator she sucked at this).
(Even though she did).
Her torture went on forever, with the only type of emotional support being provided to her was Queen Bee wiping her sweat with a face towel every now and then and not complaining about Tala scratching her shoulders.
Then, something ripped open, and Tala screeched; this time, her scream mixed with Queen Bee’s, who appeared to go into a limbo where she wasn’t sure about whether she wanted to keep looking or was too terrified to even try.
In the end, she kept looking, though hesitantly, because she had to, knowing the Detonator wouldn’t.
Then, another push, through the pain and through everything.
The world seemed to stop, and Tala saw stars. All sound became static. Time went inexistent.
And once things recovered their pace, she heard a deafening shrill scream, and the weight that had been inhabiting her womb moved towards her chest, as Queen Bee put her baby in her arms for the first time, and said baby bawled against Tala’s skin, touching her with her little hands she was yet to learn how to control.
Nova was a girl. Her baby girl, and she was as gorgeous as Tala had expected her to be all this time, despite all the suffering.
Tearing up, Tala felt as if she were holding the entire world, and she started at her, incapable to comfort her, because she was speechless.
Tala smiled among tears as Queen Bee, shaking, helped her wrap Nova in a towel, while the Detonator gagged behind them, barely making it to the bathroom before throwing up into the trash can.
When the door slammed closed, Tala’s eyes laid on Queen Bee who, unexpectedly, wasn’t staring at her, but at the baby.
And, nonchalantly, she asked:
“Is she scared of me?”
There was that question again. But, this time, Tala was not unsettled, or confused. It made her smile, actually.
A little.
“She’s a baby.” She answered, because that’s the first thing that popped up into her mind.
Queen Bee seemed satisfied, but still changed the subject right after, not even bothering to acknowledge the fact that Tala, for the first time, had answered her question.
“Those are a pair of very strong lungs she’s got right there. Excellent baby making, you two.”
And the moment was so…mundane and isolated from the world that Tala laughed above her tears.
They both laughed above their tears, and above the buzzing of bees, and hornets and wasps, which hovered around them as if they were dancing, never touching them.
And never touching the baby.
-.-
The news reached him as soon he arrived along with Alec, and David felt that something inside of him died; he felt as if he were the most disgusting human being that had ever stepped on Earth, and perhaps everyone in the room at the moment shared that idea with him, so they didn’t try to stop him when he started running towards the cathedral, until he reached the room he shared with Tala, where an odd, yet comforting and welcoming vibe could be felt.
The curtains were closed, and the temperature was just fine, not too cold, nor too hot.
And right there, by the bed, leaned on a mountain of very fluffy pillows, he saw Tala.
There was too little light sneaking through the window, and that made her seem like an extremely gorgeous vision, which took him back to the moment he first saw her, knelt by the lake; the water reflecting on her face.
To this day, Tala was still the most beautiful woman David had ever seen, but this time she was holding a little bump between her arms, wrapped in a white blanket.
It wasn’t supposed to happen like this; he was supposed to take Tala somewhere where she could give birth safely and with some privacy; he was supposed to be there, next to her, holding her hand as tight as he could; be one of the first people to see his child; be one of the first people to hold his child; and be the one to kiss Tala when it was all over and the pain had abandoned her body; he was supposed to be there for her, but he hadn’t.
Yet, when Tala’s eyes laid on him, she smiled; every sign of tiredness gone from her eyes and face, and replaced only with love.
And trust.
And a delicate, hoarse voice that said:
“Get closer, love.”
David did; he walked towards her, and then he sat on the bed, trying to cause as little commotion as possible, as he somehow felt he was breaking in a nest occupied by a mother and her baby; but Tala made him feel welcomed; she made him feel like he belonged, despite having been absent when she needed him the most, because her heart was massive.
She slowly removed the blanket, the tiniest bit, and so, she revealed their baby, who was the prettiest thing David had ever seen.
“It’s a girl.” Tala whispered.
A girl.
They had a girl.
Nova, whom they had been waiting for, eagerly, despite all that had happened, was a girl.
Overcome with emotion and lips quivering, David stared at her, sleeping soundly in her mother’s arms; she seemed to be a perfect mix of both of them, and had an impressive amount of jet black hair attached to her head, and very small, adorable hands in a clenched fist position, resting on Tala’s skin; her little body going up and down along with Tala’s breathing and also her own.
David’s heart went unstable and microscopic, perhaps because she was so huge she didn’t even fit in this room.
And she was so, so full of light, despite not knowing what light was yet.
Then, he saw her moving; as Tala lifted her to put her in David’s arms, Nova whimpered and frowned, which he later would recognize as something comical, but right now it just made him feel as if he were about to explode with love.
Nova laid in his arms, going calm again after a while; her body was warm and fragile, and thinking something so beautiful had been growing inside Tala and was now out here, and at the same time was also a part of him, was…
David hiccupped, as he caressed her little cheek with his thumb; a thumb that looked hysterically, comically huge in that small cheek, and felt extremely calloused in that soft skin.
“Oh. Love.” Tala said, touched.
“She’s perfect.” David told her, sniffing. “Just like you.”
It had taken Nova 9 months to see the world, but perhaps it had taken her only a couple of seconds of being in it to make it hers; to cause another big bang with her light; to make their lives rotate around her.
Tala smiled widely, as she leaned against him for their lips to melt; to disappear into a kiss.
Then, she placed her hand on Nova’s head in a tender manner.
They were a small family now.
And they were perfect.
-.-
At night, David, Tala and, of course, the baby were invited (requested) to go downstairs, because there was an unnecessarily huge dinner being held for them, in celebration of their newborn child. And, since the day was too perfect to even think about hesitating or rejecting something like that, the two of them got dressed, wrapped Nova in a warmer blanket, and went to the room inside the cathedral Alec had turned into a ball room (sort of).
Since a lot of people would be down there and, as stated, it was meant to be a semi-formal dinner, David saw Tala put on a dress she had made herself a couple of months ago, a little bigger than the rest of her dresses so she could wear it for “special occasions” after the baby was born; it was a beautiful, below the knee, angel sleeve lavender dress, with a thin lace around her waist.
Claiming she was still feeling the room was too hot, she tied her hair in a bun and put on minimum makeup and flat, lace-up sandals.
Then, they went downstairs, to find themselves surrounded by distant chattering and very, extremely soft, classical music, as if they didn’t want to disturb the newborn.
The loudest noise around, one could say, was Honey Harper’s voice (as if that were a surprise) who was talking to a group of women (probably members of gangs) and the Detonator, who were gathered around her; Honey was speaking in a very cheerful way, holding a glass of champagne in her right hand; she was wearing a one-sleeve mermaid cut dress, where the full tight section was in black and the looser one had three yellow stripes, combined with a pair of black high heel shoes and golden armlets around her upper arms (which David recognized because he made them himself). There were painful-looking scratches in both her shoulders and arms, which she seemed to be proud of; next to her, was the Detonator, wearing a long, royal blue velvet dress with red undertones and an opening at the side, from which her leg was peeking out, and she, too, was wearing armlets, although those hadn’t been made by David, also in blue and red. She looked tired, as if she had been sick for a long time, to the point which Tala, who had just given birth, looked healthier than her.
Which, talking about that, the Detonator, in fact, was the first one to spot Tala, but instead of directing a hostile smirk at her (because that was classic Ingrid behavior. She was extremely rude sometimes, even towards people she hadn’t met before), her cheeks became flushed, and she turned away, leaving without a word, not even to Honey, who fixed a glare at her through the corner of her eye and tried to stop her by pinching her shoulder, but failed.
Tala scoffed a little, but David was about to ask what had happened between the two of them, when they heard the voice coming towards them.
“Is that my niece?”
For minute, the amusement of the moment disappeared into thin air, but both Tala and him managed to hold their smiles as long as they could, as Alec approached them with a kind smile.
Alec. Not Ace.
Alec, without his helmet.
Alec and a party tuxedo against the world.
“May I hold her?”
They should had seen that question coming because, being Alec, of course he was going to ask to hold the baby as long as he saw her, but when he threw the question at them, in a way so natural and with no apparent questionable intentions, David became unsteady, just like Tala, who instinctively held Nova closer to her, making her groan a little.
But Alec was waiting and, for a second, David saw his Alec. The one who was still inside there, somewhere, and that, at the moment, just wanted to hold his niece; because, whether they liked it or not, she had his blood running through his veins too…
And he was her uncle.
They could trust him, right?
Of course…
Of course they could trust him.
David hugged Tala by the shoulders as she held the baby towards Alec, and he held her so tenderly and so…carefully, it almost seemed like this wasn’t the first baby he had held in years.
For a couple of seconds, Alec stared at her, until his lips took the shape of a smile, and something inside of David felt odd.
But, at the same time, he felt something warm.
“She is a beautiful little lady. What is her name?”
“We…uhm….” Tala coughed nervously, as long as she saw David’s lips separating and felt his intentions to take the word. “…named her Nova. And…David wanted her middle name to be Jean, after you.”
David’s eyes widened, staring at Tala through the corner of his eye, surprised.
Firstly, because it made…sense.
Secondly, because he had never, ever, asked for that, even if he had thought about it…deep in his thoughts, as a fantasy that had absolutely no chance of becoming reality.
And Alec laughed in response, which kind of woke Nova up, so he started bouncing her up and down, gently (had he watched some type of video about how to hold babies or something…?)
“After James.” He concluded, very amused, and also wrinkling his nose in mild disgust, just like he did whenever somebody addressed him as James.
“Uh…y-yeah.” David smiled, ignoring Tala’s wink, and making a mental note about how he would later question her about that. About whether she was sure or just wanted him to be “happy”.
“Yeah. James is an awful name, but Jean not so much.” Alec shrugged, before turning back at the baby once again.
“I am deeply honored…but I will always address her by her first name, still; Nova is powerful. Bold. Like supernova. You do not waste a precious name like that one to call her the female equivalent to James.”
David did his best to keep smiling, but failed.
There were times when his Alec came back, only to leave right after.
Because, yeah.
Of course it sounded like an explosion to this Alec.
-.-
After that, the dinner went on surrounded by an odd aura of…normality, where everybody pretended to get along and even talked to Tala while David had the baby with him.
However, when the last person was gone, and everyone was ready to go to bed, including Tala, David decided to take Nova to the bell tower, where, for the first time, he showed her the stars that had made her who she was. And when he felt her moving, he remembered the moments when he felt her kick inside of Tala.
And he saw light in her, because she was shining brighter than the stars, as the moonlight illuminated her little face, just like she, strangely, had illuminated Alec’s for the first time in years.
Maybe there was hope, still. Maybe she carried it.
And maybe hope wasn’t David, but a part of himself.
“Maybe you’ll be a new beginning after all, stellina.” He told her.
Maybe, hopefully, they wouldn’t need a supernova now that she was here.
@instantkamra asked for a masterlist so here we gooo FSHJAFGSHJ. So, as you may know :) I finished uploading the first part of HCTTR a while ago :3 and my idea, from the start, was to divide the masterlist through seasons parts, posting the masterlist once I was done posting the block of chapters :) but if you want me to start doing a masterlist as I post, then just tell me :)
I decided to name the s e a s o n s after songs bc that’s what my daughter @obsidianfr3sk does and I think that’s very cool of her (YOU SHOULD CHECK OUT HER FICS SHE’S AN EXCELLENT WRITER) and I LOVED the idea :’) so yeah.
Chapter 4, “The Assault to Cragmoor”: https://claustrophobicteapot.tumblr.com/post/630520570253066240/hope-called-themselves-the-renegades-ch-4
Chapter 5, “The Morning After the Assault to Cragmoor”: https://claustrophobicteapot.tumblr.com/post/630609146874560512/hope-called-themselves-the-renegades-ch-5
Chapter 6, “The Night After the Assault to Cragmoor”: https://claustrophobicteapot.tumblr.com/post/630695460133388288/hope-called-themselves-the-renegades-ch-6
My shitpost about the process of writing the first season bc you guys sometimes i like to pretend im funny afvsghjafvs: https://claustrophobicteapot.tumblr.com/post/632738893616283648/so-the-first-part-of-hcttr-is-over
