Life was hard, even if you were the most boring person some kind of tragedy would come to your life. Pain was one thing everyone could understand, the difference being how much pain they had felt. Mutants, heroes, those who people called villains, those were the people who had suffered what she had… well, to certain extent. Pain was everywhere yet everyone held tightly to the thought of happiness and most reached it. Even Hope had known what it felt like to be happy many times in her life. In the middle of all the fighting, all the suffering, she could have some moments with her old man where all the world went away, when all that mattered was them running around laughing or joking. And that had to be a joke. She smiled “I don‘t need someone new to replace that person. I need for them to come back and stay for once, you know?“ No one could gain her trust like Nate did. When times were bad he was the one person she would ask for help. When she had to face the world, the people that hunted her, the one who would always be by her side would be Nate “Try again“ he had to have a better lie, a better way to fake he had been happy when he probably hadn‘t. Power… Not many could see what that felt like, she knew because they all wanted it and when they had it they wanted more. If they knew how raw power felt they would stop because what she had felt wasn‘t something she would want to live again. Having power didn‘t make you invincible, it didn‘t protect you, it just put a target on your forehead and made you have trust issues. If you knew power you would know how it felt to be a threat everyone wanted to hunt down and hurt. He had some power, it was clear to see in the way he played. He knew when to be sweet and when to be sharp, he knew how to manipulate anyone to have a reaction and that shouldn‘t be underestimated, but this wasn‘t the power he wanted, he had to desire more because it was how it worked. If he ever found what he desired she didn‘t want to see him fall even though he was hunting her and trying to use her his pain wouldn‘t bring her a thing. She smirked, there he was with his stupid words, looking at her in a way only he could. She looked into his eyes “please don‘t, I bet you have many people who would like to hear from you first…“ a list of people that would satisfy him for a day or two. “I only want to know from you when you decide to give up and tell me I win“ too confident? maybe, too flirty? absolutely, but no one would ever know how she had talked.It was something no one would even believe, their ex messiah was incapable of doing anything similar. As long as Namor wouldn‘t go there and talk about the attitude she had shown when she was younger there was no way someone would believe him. But why was she even flirting? it was just part of the game, right? It was that, it had to be or she would have to think seriously about her actions.
Hope wanted to see him fall, to take his confidence. She wanted to know the real him and prove she could beat him at his own game because that was what she did. She survived every single thing the world put infront of her and as tempting as he was she could survive him to. The way this game was developing was strange, it tangled and twisted in ways she had never expected it to. It had showed her more than she had ever wanted, it had brought out parts of her she didn‘t want to know, or maybe it was all him. Daken was special. It was all thrilling, it was a dance that followed only instincts and caution. It was dangerous and hypnotic and it was probably all him. Many could try to pull her closer but apparently the only one that could manage to do it was this wolf “Then why haven‘t you?“ she touched his cheek her eyes staring into his, she was trying to act like he would but a soft laugh escaped her lips “sorry, can‘t do that“ she smirked “I don‘t think you can show me a thing“ that was her style, flirting was his. He was such a flirt it was clear even in the way he moved and in his eyes… Those eyes were what she couldn‘t handle because when he looked at her like he could truly be interested in her she almost bought it, they were magic. They made her gulp and if she had less control over her reactions she would blush like all those girls in the movies she had found. Hope felt too much when he looked at him, it was a mix of feeling and thoughts and the worrying part was the small voice in the back of her mind that told her to give in. She wouldn‘t but it shouldn‘t exist, she never felt this attraction so why was it there? so many questions came with him and she wanted to silence them. “What do I need, wolf?“ even if the apocalypse had never happened what she wanted was impossible to get. What she wanted was peace and a really big gun like the ones her old man and her used to have. “I think you can give me what I need but… I want you to guess first“ she needed silence and a long time away from assholes like him. He could give her that easily. But they never offered the same, his offer was probably far less innocent but it must be interesting. His look sent a shiver down her spine that made her clench her fist softly. A single look could cause a lot and she had seen it before. She still remembered when they met, how close they had been to actually kissing and it didn‘t help. Her memory was good, good enough to remember perfectly how it felt to be close enough to him to feel like they could kiss. He affected her body, her mind and he knew it, he enjoyed causing this to her. He wanted her to be completely his just like everyone else he had ever seduced and he probably enjoyed the test, it was a way to prove how good he was. She bit her lip tightly, to stop him from staring more than he already had, she wasn‘t a show. She wouldn‘t be his and she would never be his lover. If being his lover was even possible. It had to be, but for him to keep someone near him he would have to find someone that interested him enough and that was a challenge because he seemed to enjoy the chase more than the results. He was a hunter, a wolf that would get bored as soon as he got what he wanted. Lover… that was ridiculous. They would never be anything even close to that, it would be dumb to even think about it so why was she still thinking about it? She wanted to step away, to get away from whatever it was that she felt for him but that wouldn‘t be her, that would only prove how much he could affect her.it was wrong to stay yet it was far worse to leave, to trust she was over her attraction only to see him again and have that fall infront of her. He had something that kept her there, what it was was a mystery but it had to stop. He had to stop chasing her, it would be the only way to make it stop but he wouldn‘t give up easily unless she found someone that could distract him. Running was her instinct, he had triggered something she hadn‘t felt in years, all her senses just noticed the danger. She shrugged “not a tease, just not stupid, just like you“ she replied with a small smirk. Of course Daken knew what she was doing, information for information, it was fair and it could help one of them to have the upper hand. In that moment information could turn the game, give someone enough advantage to lead to a win. He wasn‘t far with his words, actually, he was so close to hitting a truth that it made her tense slightly. It was a good guess, far too good “Not bad, yet not true. I don‘t think about sects in my quiet time and if they were back I would not want them to kill each other “ she thought about worse things. Sects were something she had grown up with, they were what she had learned to avoid, but what plagued her mind as she sat on her bed were the new breed of hunters that wanted her, people that used worse methods to get what they wanted and now she didn‘t even have a support to protect her if she messed up. If she let herself have more quiet moments she knew new monsters would take her peace away, things she had tried to bury but came to her every time. The torture she had experiences, and the pain she had caused would always be what hunted her. That was why she took so many risks, why she went out alone and without warning anyone. She needed to keep her mind away from her demons before they dragged her down, before she started feeling useless while memories and paranoid thoughts came to her, that was what she had always done. “My turn“ she crossed her arms and took a second to find the best theory to share “I think your big ego came from a really dark place, some place that made you feel the need to have control over everything“ it wasn‘t her full theory, but touching the whole paternal figure subject seemed too cold for her to say it. It was all to gain the upper hand, if any of them revealed too much of what they thought the other would be able to use it against them but causing harm for that wasn‘t her thing. She looked at him, her smirk turned warmer, even flirty if you paid attention “you won‘t, my hunter. You‘re too confident“ It was a slow game for her, her strategy was based in patience because what she wanted needed time. If she wanted to really his underneath the lies she would have to wait until his mask came down, until he had forgotten who she was and revealed his true colors. She didn‘t want to have him begging, she wanted something he probably didn‘t know himself and that was why she kept playing like that, for her game caution was always first because no adversary should be underestimated, specially someone like him. He knew he owned this game, that was where she played, that was his blind spot. In a manipulation game no one would expect the honest girl to win. There was a flash, she had to repeat her words in her head to understand what had happened, she noticed but she didn‘t push it, that topic was something that wouldn‘t leave her lips yet. She knew now what got him, her mind had to connect thoughts quickly to catch what was going on but it was worth it, now she knew she had to avoid saying anything about Wolverine. She moved her lips a bit when he hid his expression with a smile, it was hard to see how much he hid what he truly felt, but still his next words made her laugh. Daken really didn‘t have any idea about what had happened “Well that isn‘t a high bar, but as pleasant as you think owing you would be I have to say, no thank you. I don‘t want to owe you“ whatever he meant and as good as it could be wasn‘t worth a thing when the one she would owe to was him.Debts were one thing she hated, people always said they owed and owed and when they had to pay back what would they do? That was what bothered her about having a debt. If Logan wanted he could ask her to do something terrible because she had the biggest debt anyone could ever have. To owe your life was a nightmare because life was something difficult to pay back. Thankfully Logan wasn‘t a piece of shit that had asked for something back yet. “and what‘s your philosophy? using the right people can open all the right doors?“ he was right, but it was far more simple than that. See what people do and you know how they will react. Peter Parker, the one she knew, would die for someone, Nate would kill anyone for the world, all were things that you could see as soon as you saw the type of fighters they were.With his reply she scoffed and smiled “well, thanks for that. Now you have confirmed how right I am“ Heroes, villains, all was bullshit. Lines were blurry and many times the people that tagged others couldn‘t even see the right sides of the story. Any ‘hero‘ had been called an enemy at some point just because someone said so. So how valid were those titles? All that mattered to her was protecting what was important and to keep her morals strong, she had seen many people get lost and hurt others when they lost them and she didn‘t want to be one of them. Hope would never be a hero but that wouldn‘t stop her from helping when it was needed, that was the important part. To win or to lose wasn‘t what mattered in her mind, lately not even surviving had mattered as much as doing what she could to help. Now her life didn‘t represent the lives of mutants so why would she hold it above anyone else‘s?.It wasn‘t surprising, if she was right about something like his love he would always be in denial, there was no reason to fight over it when she knew it “good“ he would deny it as long as he lived because that was who he was and he wouldn‘t change. He was talking about a thrilling experience, not the love she had talked about. He would never admit he was capable of love, it was sad but there was nothing she could do. Kids love was strong and hard to break, both of them had to know that. They would never talk about it but whoever raised him had been a smart and cruel person that knew that . His hand went lower and she barely reacted, a small smile barely appeared on her lips. He would never learn. “I think I would rather not“ being like him sounded like the opposite of what she wanted, maybe it made him feel free but that would never be her “yeah, sure, just like you would enjoy being like me“ Daken acting like her would be a funny show, it would be different from what he was and would ever be. The girl let him hold her, it was calming to forget for a second he would stab her on the back if he wanted. Just for a moment she let herself enjoy the feeling of having im close even though she couldn‘t relax completely. It was good to be held, in her life it wasn‘t normal, unless being held in a battle counted because it was far more common than being held carefully. He was nice, fun and so many good things that she enjoyed, but he was also a jerk and that ruined it all “Our mistakes will never be the same“ they were different, while his mistakes were probably not hurting those he wanted to destroy hers were hurting people that didn‘t deserve it, and that was just an example. Even if they understood each other, their goals were far too different for them to share mistakes. She put her head away from him, remaining close but stopping some of the contact “If I told you you would try to hide it, You don‘t like showing the real you“ it was clear in his eyes, in the way his jaw clenched and the smooth smile on his lips changed, but those were the only glimpses she got so there was no way she would let him hide them. She raised her hand and pinched his cheek softly, if he knew what she had seen in him he would deny it or use it against her. So it would remain a secret. She smiled brightly “you should put your hand a bit higher, if you go any lower you will ruin the moment“ she warned but her smile was so bright it almost seemed to be a joke.“winners, really?“ his methods were bad and disgusting the more she thought about them. He could get who he wanted, good for him but the people he got were the ones that worried her “seriously, that‘s messed up.“ don‘t use people if you hate being used, it was a simple rule he didn‘t understand at all. “why don‘t you date a really old person that wants love and treat them well until they die?“ that was a bit cruel but not as much as what he did.
It was comfortable and awkward to be held so close by him, it was many contradicting things at once. It made her heart speed up slightly and her body to feel strange but it also made her tense like the danger was too close. It was his touch that caused such a confusing reaction, it was just him being near what made her senses spark without a real reason. She felt like they fit, like it wasn‘t wrong but it was, it was really bad and that shouldn‘t happen but there they were standing far too close, playing a game that was meant to break her “Easy, I hate surprises unless you have some really nice weapon for me“ it was true, the best surprises she ever had were guns and a crayon set she got long ago, but apart from that surprises had mainly been attacks and dangerous things going after her and his surprises sounded more like the last options. If she had to imagine his surprise it would be something like seducing her and using her to be what he wanted, so nothing pleasant at all. “I‘ve spent a lot of time with you and nothing has happened so…“ she teased and shook her head. They shouldn‘t be there, yet it was far too fun to leave. Her breathing was a bit off and she couldn‘t control it, but it just showed how much fun she was having. Not the fun she usually had, it was more intimate and confusing than what she usually felt. It was all him and his stupid charm, his stupid smile and that hypnotic look… if she wasn‘t Hope Summers, if she was a bit less traumatized she would be wrapped around his finger already, just to take all this feelings away. But she could carry them around, so she wouldn‘t fall for his tricks. “I have low standards, but you would be far too low“ she whispered and tapped his arms twice. Flirting, everything was coming far too close to flirting and it didn‘t bother her. She could learn to play his game. She smirked “good, because you showed me what I don‘t want“ half a truth, half a lie, it was divided. His manipulation made her not fall, but his charm and her attraction for him were too strong to deny them. It didn‘t scare her to face a new threat, it was just surprising to know she could be tempted by someone. Years had passed since she had thought about romance, then Daken arrived and shook some things but she could adapt, there was no doubt in her mind she could get out of the game without much harm.It was new and interesting to feel the adrenaline he brought to her body but Hope could see past it. One devil wouldn‘t bring her to her knees as hot as he was. There was a thrill in facing the unknown that she couldn‘t stop and his touch didn‘t help, one wrong move on her part and she could fall, it was a fine line, but if instead the perfect fuckboy messed up she would have the upper hand. Maybe he couldn‘t see it yet but they they playing on a thin edge, just testing who would fall first but just one move and it could be over and that was where she was good. Not manipulation, not sensuality, but she had grown a lot and that made she didn‘t mess up that often. It was new for her to feel like this, but she knew she was a new kind of person for him too, she could see more than what he wanted and he should be careful. The smile on her lips was one of knowledge “It‘s not exactly me, wolf. I just paid enough attention to my rival“ Johnny, she would remember that name for a long time because whoever had managed to melt that cold heart was someone worth talking to. As much as he denied it, even if he couldn‘t understand his own feelings she knew a bit better. A quick answer meant a lot, it was what came to mind first… that was why she took her time. One thing was banter, another thing was an answer and as a really impulsive girl she had learned the consequences of talking without thinking a long time ago. That was were she was dangerous, don‘t get her wrong, she had been a dangerous kid since birth, she had grown as that, but she was now a far more dangerous woman because she had learned to analyze and to be patient around her hunters. She noticed more things than her younger self and the danger that always followed her all her life was a harsh trainer for her patience. She was in for a long game but lucky for him she wasn‘t there to bring him any pain. “I never said I wasn‘t in my comfort zone, but think whatever you want“ it was far more comfortable to be defensive and paranoid than trusting someone and ending up a bit more broken than before. Defense was what she knew would keep her safe. Just like using people for him was comfortable she was comfortable with her walls and her bad attitude towards people that had hurt her.Payback was his thing, for her it was her isolation, same reasons different reaction. He expected change from someone far too stubborn, her ways weren‘t right, but he would never be able to transform her into anything. She was a tough girl who would remain the same after everything, that made her know that even wanting to see him change into a nice person because of her would be impossible, but finding more from the broken man inside was another thing. If she could see the pieces, the scars, the emotions then she would know if someone could understand the pain she had always felt, she could see if there was a way to heal his wounds like she hadn‘t been able to heal hers. Her smile fell but the fire in her eyes shone brighter as he held her arm “I don‘t regret the risks I took, but most weren‘t something I could enjoy“ She risked things she never should have because she didn‘t have another choice. That was the difference, when she could choose risks were exciting but her life wasn‘t one that liked giving options, it was all give and take with no mercy or patience. It was all losing so she could have one win that everyone needed, risks slowly became something she disliked because it came with a big loss that she was no longer willing to give. “Lonely“ was her answer. Loneliness was one thing she could handle, she had felt it for so long she no longer feared it but people were those risks, those reminders that she didn‘t want around any longer. People were who used her without even intending to do it. The only person who had mattered enough had left her again and left her so many times before she had grown used to being on her own and if he returned, which he would, then he would be able to be the only person around her. “Guess you finally figured out why I‘m not in here that often“ all those faces brought a bad feeling with them, guilt had driven her to go out, make a safe house and avoid Haven as much as she could. The outside was full of danger she could survive, and her safe house had been full of peace until his smell filled it, but it was still better than having to face everything she had felt for the people she met. Exciting, that was what he was “Well, you‘re more interesting than not nice“ that was easy to admit, anyone that had ever talked to him knew he was more fun than the average person. He had been trained to be more than them anyways, right? “Well, find good stories with someone else because my life was repetitive“ it was apocalypse after apocalypse, risk after risk, not many things stood out in her life so if what he wanted was knowing some interesting stories he could keep walking because the few she had she wouldn‘t share with anyone. Those stories were full of messy emotions and pain she wasn‘t ready to face. Stories like what she felt after the Phoenix had fractured, when she manipulated Idie, all her life in the last years, those things were her deepest secrets, those no one would know. Her feelings were one thing she would keep close to her all the time, because all she had lived and felt had left deep scars anyone would exploit. She was just another broken girl, but this one would rather die than show how deep all her cuts had been. Her traumas were hidden deep in her heart and with them there she would die. The way they used her laid there, but it showed in how she had been shaped, she would never let people die for her without a drop of guilt because she knew if she had died to save them, if she had died while they used her they wouldn‘t feel any guilt and she wasn‘t like them, she would never be. Use them to survive her mind replied, but she didn‘t say it. If she had used them it would have been exactly like everyone had used her. One life for the bigger picture, they died like a hero but who would have felt pain for her loss apart from her family? That was why she mourned every single person that had suffered for her, everyone that had lost something to keep her breathing deserved her guilt even if they would never give it to her. “I‘m not like them, that‘s why I am who I am“ they had used a kid as a savior and then let a lonely girl who didn‘t know much about the world alone. They cleaned their hands, they said she needed a break, they said she could protect herself while they took care of each other. They left her alone surrounded by power hungry wolves and no one cared enough to check on her. It was sick and it was wrong, she had been hurt again and again and even though she hated it she had hoped for someone to ask if she had been fine before the apocalypse, but only Nate did. No one else would care about what she had gone through and then they claimed to have a higher morals. She knew every single bit of pain, she had screamed until she felt her throat hurt so much she was certain she wouldn‘t be able to talk again. She knew, she knew how cruel they would be, but if she left them alone to experience her pain she would have done exactly what they had. There was no way to win, so she had opted to carry all the weight of the guilt and the pain on her shoulders because if it would end up in pain she would suffer alone, without causing anyone else any suffering. Take the pain away, she wished she could, but it would never be away she didn‘t think he would get rid of the pain either “yours has gone away?“ it was impossible, they never learned how to heal from what others had caused them. It was clear how hurt they both were. His pain was clear as soon as he spoke about who had raised him, when anyone said Logan‘s name. Pain was a curse and she hadn‘t found a way to stop it. She had thought he could understand, but it was all so clear now… No one would understand, they were all the same kind of fuckers who wanted to mess her up. She scoffed, her voice was void “Sure“ he could pretend he was different, that he could see her pain and understand it but he was just another hunter who she had to survive, just another bruise for her collection. A small tear ran down her cheek and she wiped it quickly. She was hoped for him to make a mistake and there it was, he had managed to break everything he had achieved but it had hurt her far more pain than she had expected. The flashes were invading her mind now and she couldn‘t stop them, he knew where to hit and he did, now it was all coming back. She could see the moment when she thought her old man had died, when she found his arm in there and she had felt her whole world was crashing, the pain the Phoenix had caused her, the way she felt her skin burning but not being able to stop it, so many things were flashing in her mind… it was all hurting her and for a second all that pain showed in her eyes before they went cold again. She looked into his eyes and she replied “I hope I was entertaining enough“ there was a hurt tone in her cold voice. Just another toy again, that was what she had been for him. It hurt but she could handle it, all her life she had been a puppet for people, one more time of being used was all the game had been. “I made a mistake by talking to you, it won‘t happen again“ it was almost an apology, like she had messed up her mission and she had to face her superior officer. She felt empty again, it was a horrible feeling that had returned. She had felt it many times before and she had wished it would never make it‘s way back again because it meant someone had decided to break her again. “Johnny, yes.“ she felt bad for him, Daken had cared about him and he had payed for that. A wolf had slayed him because he had seen a use for him and then gotten too close. Maybe she was lucky he would never be able to care about her “You did once, but I‘m not him. I‘m no one“ she half smiled. She looked exhausted for a second “like you said, I wasn‘t boring, that made you stay. So tell me, what do you want from me? You want my first kiss? you want to break me? “ she scratched her arms full of scars some were clearly not from battles, some had the form of ties she had fought against, some were far too deep and precise, she scratched the scars from her torture.
For a moment she could see flashes of his thoughts, of his memories but she didn‘t think about it much, it wasn‘t the moment. She was breathing heavily, her hair fell on her face and there it was, her darkest side told her to just cut his neck deep enough to keep him down for a few minutes. She felt him stab her and it was enough to pull her back into the world, and her morals. Her claws cut his neck barely drawing blood “Who has all the control now?“ It hurt, it hurt badly to be stabbed but she stayed there her claws against his neck without causing more damage. She had made him stab her, he had let his control fade enough and that made her smirk. One small victory, it was all she had needed to stop. She coughed some blood, Hope could feel her blood and her body getting a bit weak for a second. As she healed she remained on top of him, not wanting to move because for a moment she had all the power, he had shown his true colors, not her. She covered her lips, looking a bit pale but her healing was extremely fast. She had been mad, she had wanted to hurt him, but now all she could so was let out one soft laugh “you have to stop stabbing the people you want to use you know?“
Joy, sadness; you could argue none of them ever lasted, but Daken always had doubted he was even capable of emotions the same way as other people had, anyway. Even the most cunning tactician in the right circumstances could be led so dangerously by their feelings and it made them so easy to take advantage of. If nothing else, it spared a lot of frustration to tell himself that he couldn’t be like them, that he belonged to some higher class of being that made him a perfect sociopath and that he only ever could have been this way. Except life had told him differently in moments that stuck with him like gnats, that there was a time where all he desperately wanted was to be loved. Too much introspection made his whole concept crumble as surely as it made him. “Mmhmm. He leave often?” Daken spoke bluntly. Nathan was a mysterious man, but he knew at least he had separate occasions of dying, not to mention his thing of bouncing off into the time stream, it must feel isolating when Hope was so close with him. “What do you want from me?” he threw out his hands in an exaggerated expression of helpless disbelief. Power was the only thing that if it was stolen from you, it was your fault, and she kept dismissing it because what he got from it didn’t fit her idea of happiness. Maybe the question should be why happiness was supposedly so important, more important than power. Maybe he didn’t care about typical happiness. He could be satisfied with a different rush. Maybe he didn’t want blissful pease and contentment. It was fleeting and could be crushed so easily, and no amount of strength could stop it — but if you were strong you could always win power back. He almost never trusted anyone yet he knew he could wrap them around his finger — if not make them trust him, then fear him. He didn’t have much power now; there wasn’t a lot to be had in a broken world, but that structure existed right here in Haven, and he would have it — because it was a small place led by frivolous heroes, and even though some of those heroes did have a killing instinct he knew their better natures made them susceptible, even for those who didn’t trust him, and never would. She didn’t understand power because she’d always been afraid of it. Her perception of power was as something that caused you to be used, to be at the mercy of others. While that was certainly what it could turn into, what Romulus had tried to turn him into when he had surpassed his original purposes, it wasn’t real power if you weren’t autonomous. The most physical power he ever remembered having was as the Horseman of Death, a glorified slave to Apocalypse’s son; physical power was great but it was such a small point towards true power. He met her eyes with a smirk. “But I’d hate to keep you waiting on something that will never occur.”
Theirs was a choreography, unplanned yet fully realized. Intelligence gleamed behind her eyes and he knew she was sizing him up in a way. He loved this thing he brought out of her. No matter what happened, he had her desire, and as long as that persisted he was on top. There existed the lingering chance that kissing her too soon might just set something off. She continued to flirt with him back, showing him through all her body language how she was drawn to him and how she longed for him; and yet for as long as it remained this way, she might convince herself it was all a fun game, nothing more, nothing real. She could imagine she still had some semblance of control. Then again, that control was only a fantasy. That was the truth of her laugh, her smirk. He took her question and her challenge, his hand tracing faintly along her back. He touched her cheek as his answer, her jawline, running a thumb over her cheekbone towards her ear as his hand cradled her jaw, meeting her eyes. “That’s what you think,” he said softly, with lips only inches from her own as his fingers slipped back into her hair. His movements were careful, calculated, but only more soft and gentle. She was stoic, but that was merely a projection, that a girl who felt as fully she did couldn’t fully hide behind. He wondered what would happen if he kissed her, how she would respond. As a soldier from a dangerous future quick movements could be something different to her than smooth charm. He tailored himself towards his targets as he remained attuned to learn more how to play her. He may be different than anything she’d faced before, but maybe she was a different type of target for him, a reason he just couldn’t let go despite not knowing at this point exactly of what use she was. “What you need is for someone to see past your this exterior of yours into your true self,” he knew that wasn’t what she was looking for, but he couldn’t just throw out placations when she herself didn’t know the truth. What she needed for someone to guide her into the metamorphosis to become what she always had been deep inside. Whatever she thought she needed — for him to go and Nathan to return, probably — was merely what she wanted. It wouldn’t push or grow her in any way. She’d never depart her comfort zone, as rough as it may be, without that push. He was that push. He knew he must make a part of her want to. His confidence made the act of it no less thrilling, as he watched and measured her responses. A lover to him was more of an asset, a tactical advantage and a manipulation tactic, and they both knew this. Of course that made much of the details one-way. A lover was still a commitment, regardless of feelings, it mandated time. He needed more grounds to make such a terribly long-term commitment, to justify a lover. He needed a specific reason — at least some organization they were a part of, to get information from — anything. He returned her smirk as so smoothly she broke down his flirtation, and he observed her response carefully to his words, examining her response in turn. So she didn’t want them to kill one another — but what else would they do, what else might they be made for? At least killing each other would get some of them out of her hair. “Perhaps not them, then — perhaps someone else out there, lurking beyond the corner of your eye to prey on you in the shadows,” he suggested, because over time all she had been was glorified prey. Maybe each time someone new and worse came, the experience took her back to being a child, being hunted and wanted for something not of her control. Bishop, the X-Men, he could only guess what else; they all had one thing in common. That feeling of being victimized, that had taken hold in her from the very beginning of her memories. That feeling must be part of her. Why else would she hide? He could see her care in her words, just as he’d used in his. He tipped his chin in acknowledgement of her theory, though an uneasy feeling gripped him as she spoke. The first half sounded general; of course he had an ego and an obligatory dark past, it was little stretch to combine them. But it was only because he had to be the best, he had to be great as Romulus was great, and then he had to be better. He had to be better to win his father’s love. But all that only made him ambitious, perhaps to an obsessive degree, it didn’t make him egotistical. He only considered himself above others because he was, because others were blinded by their emotions and he was not, because he knew how to manipulate others who didn’t know how to escape his manipulation. It wasn’t ego if it was fact. And then the second part of her theory fit in perfectly. From his ambition came his need to be in control, from the dark place, the place where he’d been abused, the place where he’d sworn to do better, the place from which he’d made up his mind to never be victimized again. Maybe she was right. If he didn’t control everyone, someone would take advantage of that weak point, and would make him nothing. He was not nothing. “Like you said, not bad. But I don’t need to control everything. I am a patient man, not some scarred obsessive-compulsive,” he threw out flippantly. Maybe he was purposefully undermining her, but her kept a certain lightness in his tone, not to be fully dismissive. “You’re too confident in that fact,” he smirked in return. If she became too confident in his confidence, after all, it became a conundrum that could mean her overconfidence and could backfire on her fully… there was no point at which they were examining this too far. He would love to see her teeth, as prey snapped back like a bear caught in a trap. He saw her and she was prey but he knew she was so much more. Did this make a different way of tackling the problem necessary? A different way of acquiring her? For all she promised to be, she was drawn to him like any other, and somehow it made it more special because it was his. Soon she would be unable to resist. They were on his own turf; this wasn’t the type of battle she had been trained for, the type of playing field she was comfortable on. It was his. Of course the state of being in another’s debt put one at a natural disadvantage to them. In the context of the world, it was useful to live up to such debts, to move forwards more easily in a societal structure, to build a repertoire supported by the individuals of the power structure around you, to secure your exaltation in the future, so that others would see what kind of a person you wanted them to see. A pretense was all debt was about these days. If you could get away with it, it was best to silently arrange the deaths of those you were indebted to and avoid the hassle. To Daken, the psychological honor-bound aspect of being in one’s debt was less than nothing. “You’re right,” it was not a high bar. “Well, I can’t fault you for self-sufficiency.” It made him uneasy to wonder obvious his sensitivity was concerning his father. If not his greatest, it certainly felt in these moments like his most visible weakness — if it was weakness. But Hope was an empathetic person, an honorable person, who was reluctant to stoop so low — or at least he assumed that was what it was. To use his feelings about his father against him just wasn’t the type of person she was. “What’s wrong with that?” he teased lightly, to avoid touching the truth of it. There always existed a person to open any door you may wish to pass through. Using people effectively as he did meant not considering them as anything more than they were: a means to an ends. Could she grasp that? He liked to think she did. But it didn’t mean she could be able to do it. Even if he did catch some feelings occasionally, those occasions were the exception to the rule. Maybe it made him predictable that he would always act in his own best interest. But that was human nature; some were simply more blinded by their morals and baggage. He considered himself unpredictable because he didn’t move through life’s winding decisions like that. He adapted to the behavioral patterns and passing moods without being affected in a way he couldn’t brush off… he adapted to Hope because he knew he wasn’t the only one who continually learned more. “You’re a smart woman, but it’s important to recognize the world as our opponents do,” he smirked. It was nice to talk to another who realized how stupid the world of heroes and villains were. The fact that the rest of the world didn’t made them all more easy to calculate and manipulate. The world could only be divided so simply when everyone decided to divide themselves. Many of his teammates in the Avengers were self-proclaimed supervillains until they became superheroes to the world. It was a laughable. Unreal. To the world, Daken was never an out superhero or supervillain under his own name. He’d avoided being public with his identity whenever he wore a mask, preferring to operate in the underworld as Romulus had. Some would consider Hope to be a superhero for ending the Avengers/X-Men war, but she didn’t come from a world where those labels had meaning and would never be fooled by it. Love was a versatile word and that worked for him just fine. It made more serious discussions easier to derail if he wanted to, anyway. At her lack of response he traced his thumb lightly an inch near the base of her spine, not breaking eye contact and returning her smile just slightly, to see how far she would let him take it. He tilted his head, a faint degree of smugness touching his heart as she denied him. She only said she didn’t want to be him because she didn’t understand — she felt the pain and love that her life gave her, and saw him as cold in comparison, but he didn’t think she could imagine how freeing it could be just to let go. His eyebrows raised just slightly at the counter-suggestion. “Maybe I would,” he said, just to be smug, just to be contrary, just to be teasing, and as always flirting. The idea that they could both use a little of the other’s traits was an interesting one, a sweet one with no grounds in truth but a balancing sentiment. Perhaps if she freed herself from her mental prison, maybe — he knew he wasn’t all he could be or he’d be in a lot better state right now in terms of achieving what he wanted — but he was a lot better off than her. He wasn’t a tall man but she felt small in his arms, though her musculature through her clothes. Holding her made him wonder about the plans he might have for her, not just the important question of purpose, but what their relationship might look like once she was fully his. Every acquisition needed to be tended, and something told him Hope would never be exactly submissive. He liked that just right. It wouldn’t be her if she was. He nodded against her hair. She was right, they would never make the same mistakes, as much as each of their upbringings was a Frankenstein of the other’s, it had built two very different people who would respond differently in any situation. If there was one similarity, they’s both have difficulty opening up to those who might care about them, but the vote was out on whether that was even a mistake, or whether trust was the mistake. Hope wanted nothing because she had been everything, and Daken wanted everything because he had been nothing. He smiled slightly as she pulled back to look at him, meeting her eyes. He shrugged at her answer, a little playfully; she was probably right, he certainly wouldn’t like her seeing his true self without him even being aware it showed. Her answer however only made him yearn to know what she was referring to, reevaluating himself and his every move. If the real him was likable, it couldn’t be pure resentment and daddy issues. The tell had to be something else. Unless she was making it all up, in a bid to make him nervous. That wasn’t a bad play. “I’d hate to ruin the moment,” he didn’t lower his hand anymore, but he didn’t move it, either. He simply smirked at her brilliant smile, amused and intrigued, though he broke into a short, slight laugh as she pinched his cheek. She was so soft and cute, and he was genuinely having fun with her. It felt like a pity her stakes were so high, for a moment, but it was worth it for all that would come of it in the end. He chuckled slightly at her disgust. “That is an interesting experiment,” and it wasn’t one he was necessarily opposed to, if he found himself bored. Manipulate someone into thinking they were loved, and it even had a built-in cut-off so that it didn’t bore him, too. The love they would show him in return would be testament to his power over their mental state; he created that love within them and it made them his. Besides… old or not, they would have his back if his plans went sideways against the leaders of Haven. That would be useful. Some old people could cause quite a stir in the face of injustice. He shrugged. “Point me to a lonely old person, and I’ll try that, for a price,” he smirked. They better be really old. He didn’t want ten years of his life wasted on a stupid dare.
Physical proximity was his friend in this fight. Her brain and her hormones betrayed her, and the things he could do with words was enhanced and fed back through the power of touch. She could be his and not even know it, could still think she was fighting once she had already gave in. “Weapons, huh? Well, I have to admit it’s not that,” everyone had their poison, and it didn’t surprise him she was so into weapons, given some of her father’s guns were almost as big as she was, but she did fix him with a good point. This was a long game, a slow game, and it had been some time so far and it had not yet gone anywhere obvious — and leaving it to go stagnant would be nearly as dangerous as stepping too far and scaring her off. “Very well, red. What do you want to happen?” he turned the question on the spot, and so she wouldn’t use it as an opportunity to weasel out, “What would you like us to do with this time?” She was excited, he could see in her shortness of breath, and maybe the knowledge that he excited her excited him a little bit too, because they were kindling something wonderful, something he got the feeling she’d never experienced anything of its kind before. He shared her smile, though his posture remained calm and composed, his eyes delighted in the fun thrill that had her short of breath. The taste of authenticity was as remise en bouche on his sensitive palate. “That’s alright. I have no problems bringing you down to my level,” he smiled, and pulled a stricken look playfully. “Honored to be your anti-poster-boy.” He bounced off her playful touch and flipped his fingers lightly along her arms in return. He knew they were only words, a bid for something that she aimed for but could never be the truth. Though her conscious mind may laid out all the reasons why he was wrong for her, why he was the antithesis to all the autonomy her survivalist old man had molded into her; Daken knew his own allure, and that a part of her would always be searching for hints of Daken in any future man she sought after, if ever. His own heart was not on the line, but he wasn’t without stake, either. It wasn’t only time spent together that had grown him more and more invested; it was almost shameful to admit how invested he’d become, first with the strange glimpses of his own life within her, then with the glimpses of how much greater she could be if only she stopped holding herself back. Hope adapted quickly and he had to adapt along with her; her senses may become accustomed but her heart didn’t, because it couldn’t, because that was what made emotion such a weakness, and the only guard she had against it was to build walls between herself and everything else. It limited her and hadn’t prepared her. But maybe he hadn’t been prepared for this too — there was something about her smile that made him wonder if he was missing something, for just a moment. “Maybe you need to pay better attention, your daddy would be disappointed,” he said, which was really just a way of deflecting and maybe it was clear. Paying close attention to your rival was one of the most essential things for someone to know to do, to learn and to then predict; but the implication that she knew his true self was always unsettling, whenever it was shown to have a sliver of undeniable reality. But he smirked. Maybe she was right, but what did that mean, really — if she recognized proof of feelings for Johnny, it just meant his deception had been all the more whole! Why did it matter if it didn’t interfere with his goals? Daken had a way of twisting things so he wouldn’t feel as weak as the facts implied he was. “Alright then,” he nodded simply. At least she wasn’t a hypocrite. So neither of them escaped their comfort zones in her view, they both stayed in the environments their father figures had raised them in living the kind of lives they’d been prepared for since childhood, and maybe they would never have the guts for anything more. It was a crushing concept because it wasn’t wrong. Maybe greatness to him was the same as what he’d been taught, but at least he had far surpassed anything Romulus expected for him. Didn’t that mean anything? They were both healthily wary to lend others their trust. And maybe that wasn’t a bad thing — maybe it just meant they had experienced enough of the world to know that it was a good thing. She simply responded to it wrong. Even if they were both stuck in their comfort zones, his actually allowed him to experience the empathy of others, if not experience his own. It allowed him greatness, if he was good enough to reach it. Hers simply didn’t. He wouldn’t give up on trying to bring her out of her shell even if he never left his own. His blinding smile faded slightly at her answer, his hand slipping along her arm and moving to hold her hand. Risk could be an exciting thing, a marvelous thing, but most of all not monolithic. Some risks were monumental with everything on the line and everything to gain when you succeeded. But risk after worthless risk; he could understand why she would fall stale. What kept you going to the next risk was the rush of achievement. It was all there was to it. “You got nothing out of it at all? Not even, say… the pure selfless joy of seeing the people you helped?” When she risked her life for those who she didn’t actually care for, out of a sense of duty, it was an act of self-destruction. On the other hand, if she risked her life purely because it was her only choice, purely to survive, it would become exhausting. The will would drain away, unless she had some end point to focus on. When he was young, suffering day in and day out because his master ‘said so’ and not receiving any of the reward, would not have been sustainable without some soft of promise of belief. You had to put all of yourself in a future goal and believe that if you kept going, it would come true. The promise of making Romulus proud. He didn’t know if she had anything like that. “That sounds sad,” he commented softly, but it wasn’t criticizing or condescending, just in a quiet, observant tone. It did sound sad to seek out loneliness, to be so wary of the world and of becoming intertwined with it so as to want loneliness as an alternative to pain. It sounded not so much like she couldn’t turn down a plight, but as if life had only taught her that to be near others was to give them an opportunity— and she wasn’t wrong. It then was their job to take this opportunity and spin it to be their own. “Guess I have,” he acknowledged. Ordinary people could be cruel, but not nearly as cruel as those powered beings who took it upon themselves to decide for everyone how the world around them was meant to work. Heroes. The sheer, oblivious arrogance of these people hurt whoever was near them. And they all knew Hope in one particular way, and would never see her as anything else unless she took it upon herself to change it, which clearly she wasn’t willing to do. Where Hope preferred the outdoors, where zombies could attack at any moment, Daken liked both inside and outside alike. By nature he was wild, by nurture he roamed where intelligent prey congregated. Both sides were equally a part of him. He gave a small, faux bow at the ‘compliment’; because they were far, far too close for a real one, and he wasn’t going to change that for the sake of humor, his hand resting secure against her body. He shrugged; he could see how her upbringing could be repetitive, in whatever dystopian future she’d been raised, but it had all led up to something great, the so-called re-ignition of the mutant race. And after — he could see how a dystopian outcome with this zombie apocalypse might remind her of her bizarre childhood and make her feel like it all came full circle, but it was difficult to see the fascinating nuances when it was your own life sometimes, so it was a fair perspective. “Mm, everyone’s life is repetitive,” he offered. He was interested in her motivations, her insight, whatever view she had on the bigger picture of what she brought to fruition, than merely her coerced role in it. Did she feel any pride? He wondered how much she cared about mutant kind she had saved, if she was like him, who couldn’t really care less for their people because he couldn’t care less for solidarity. The only reason anyone stuck together against their oppressors was because they were too weak to handle it on their own, or because they needed others to relate to, or because they cared about the future of the whole. Daken cared only for himself. Hope had been made to care for the greater picture, but if she ever sat back and saw what had become of the world because of her, he wondered if she ever thought it had been worth it — if her innocence had been worth it. He wondered if she ever thought things because of what desperate, weak people had put her through out of their own desperation and weakness. Maybe if she ever did think it was worth it, it was only because she didn’t see herself as worth it. Maybe for too long she had been made to feel as if ‘messiah’ was all that she was good for, and maybe it was because she felt broken. He knew what it was to feel broken. He still couldn’t classify her guilt. She could never find the happiness she deserved for as long as she continued to punish herself for every little perceived fault, for every temptation she felt to be something more like Daken wanted, to use others instead of to be used; she could never be what, surely, she was truly meant to be. “You’re better than them,” he interpreted, and even though it was spoken plainly there was a bit of an open question to it. If she wasn’t better than them he didn’t know what she could feel or how she could justify it. As the Phoenix, she was a god, she solved their everything and for a moment was the most powerful being most could conceive of. And now? So much for mutant solidarity. The concept was a joke. It was nothing Daken wanted or needed — but perhaps once, it might have held some appeal for him. At that point in Hope’s life, it had to be everything she needed — but how could she feel connected with people who had used her entire life without remorse? And they had rejected her, cast her out when they had what they wanted. Daken’s heart felt passionately because that was what it had been with Romulus, Romulus had only ever wanted Logan — but it wasn’t nearly the same. She was in front of the world. She was better than them — and she needed to prove it. But she would never do so on her own. Her isolated life was evidence to that. She needed someone to set her free, so that she could set herself free. Daken wanted to be that person. The question she asked seemed to resonate. He could lie, he could lie well — but she had such a knack for seeing through his lies that few others seemed to have, which could be nice, when she knew his methods but fell to his seduction anyway, which could be a thrill — but never in cases like these. Why was he trying to help her? He wanted to see how great she could be if only she allowed herself to be — to be like him, with him. He could not truthfully say his pain had gone away, and she must know that, from everything she had said. His pain was practically what she sought out like evidence that he had a heart. But he wasn’t burdened in the way that she was, crippled beneath it to the extent that she could not life her life, could not go forwards or backwards. Romulus had permanently scarred him and because of him Daken hated Logan for not being there for him instead. He told himself his pain would go away when he was good enough for them both, but perhaps it would only go away if he stopped needing to be good enough for them. But that would never happen. He would always hate himself if he failed, he would always feel awful if he succeeded in his goals only to received Logan’s crocodile ‘pity’. Talking to others to erase your pain was what people did, it was what therapy was, but it wasn’t as if he’d shared himself like he asked her to. He longed to know what she’d done to make her feel so guilty that she continued to punish herself, who she had used and why. And in the greater sense, he did think telling him would make her feel better, because he’d be able use that and reassure her until she’d be more inclined at least to set herself free. Of course his pain was still there. It just wasn’t as raw as hers. “Sometimes,” he said, because that was true enough. He wasn’t always in pain, he had a busy mind, plans, interests, ambitions, things that made life worthwhile. Things like this, right now, like her. His pain might not be gone, but he didn’t always think about it. And he wasn’t sure she could say the same. “Really, I’m not,” he insisted at her scoff, meeting her green eyes with intense grays. She couldn’t imagine anyone seeing something in her related to who instead of what she was, but if he knew anything from spending time with her, it was it was that it was who she was that was special. “Don’t insult my taste, because it’s one thing I am most proud of.” He saw the tear on her cheek but he pretended he didn’t, his gaze not flickering as she moved to wipe it away. Her pain was so tangible he could taste it, and the taste was tangy and sharp and he couldn’t be proud of it. He liked to push at her boundaries and make her uncomfortable but he didn’t like to see her break, to see it old scars unveiled of how she had been broken, steadily, across her life, permeating her very identity of who she was. He didn’t want to see this misery. There was nothing anyone got out of this — there was no upside. Silently he cursed himself at her response, because he had wanted to be genuine but there was no kindness in him, no softness, so there was no part of him that was genuine that would help. He was a cold, empty, callous person, and there was nothing good in him to help her if he wanted to. “You were,” that was a horrible thing to acknowledge, but he didn’t stop there, “but you must remember I have very high tastes, Hope. It’s only because you are worth so much more than entertainment to anyone.” That talking to him was a mistake was painful to hear. Of course it was a mistake, it was obviously a mistake, they had both known that he was after her for terrible, ulterior reasons. But he didn’t want her to feel like it was. He’d thought it was worth that. (What had he done?) He would say he’d thought she was stronger but this wasn’t about strength, it was about trauma, it was about where he had struck and how — and this was about cause and effect, and context, finally taking into effect after all her exposure to him, to close herself off from the ones who wanted to hurt her. But he was different. There was a key difference. He didn’t want to use her because she was Hope Summers, the mutant messiah; he didn’t want to use her and toss her away because of the power and legend surrounding her. No, he wanted to use everyone — and in this pursuit, he happened to realize she was special. He liked her. “I’m sorry,” he said, because it felt necessary. Maybe it wasn’t real. He was sorry he had messed up and pushed too far. But maybe that type of sorrow was called regret, not remorse. He wasn’t a normal person with normal feelings, he couldn’t tell trivial differences like that. But whether it was real or not, it was still an apology. He was poison, he hurt anyone who got too close and it was usually completely on purpose — but apparently, not always. If he liked someone, they always did something wrong: maybe that was be a little too good, maybe it was stay a little too long, maybe it was just because he couldn’t help but grasp the power to be had in dominating them, and it was too much for any person to take. Talking about Johnny made him sensitive, because it was an example of something he had in him (and it was okay, it was okay because he had always had the upper hand). But she didn’t strike with that sensitive spot. Of course she didn’t, she couldn’t right now. It was funny to hear the messiah call herself no one. She posed a good question with a lot riding on it — a good question he had been putting off, but that slowly he’d uncovered and discovered more of. Her first kiss, that would be fun, but it was also a given, it was far from an endgame. To break her would be such a waste; unless by break her was meant to set her free — because she’d been through much for it not to be painful. He saw as her arms were revealed and felt a twinge of pain at the sight, his eyes tracing over the precise, methodological scarring, and taking it in, and again met her eyes. He was cold and cruel; he couldn’t be hurt if he couldn’t care about others. The way his healing factor vanished signs from his body was like a mirror to within, wasn’t it? But her scars lasted, and the scars of her psyche all the deeper. This scarring on her arms, the mark of a damaged soul, were only a fraction of what he could see in her eyes. He reached out to again clasp her hand, gently, looking out to see if she would take it wrong. He knew how to hurt her. He should know how to make it right. He always did. Then again, he hadn’t meant for this to happen. He didn’t know how to answer her question. So he simply opened his mouth and spoke. “Hope, I want to help you — because I’ve never reached my potential, but I think you could.” It was a version of a truth. And maybe he would twist that later, to use her, because it was what he always did; but the truth was that he did not know how she fit into his goals yet. She was simply, inexplicably worth it to him anyway. And he just knew he couldn’t lose her now, not like this.
Her hair the color of blood obscured his vision momentarily as it brushed across his face, her breathing deep and wounded like a wild thing. Nothing was more dangerous than a wild animal; he could feel his pulse racing in his ears. When she taunted him her words were no longer raw with rage and hurt and anger, but was human, rational and full of energy. He’d had what he wanted, and it was fleeting, but he would always have it. A shallow smile slid across his lips at her question, like a statement of victory, like a triumph and a brag and domination all at once. He felt a thrill of pride. Through his adrenaline he barely felt the shallow incision on his neck before it closed. He retracted his claws back into his fist, stained and dripping with her blood. Even as blood was coughed up onto her lips, she didn’t back down, even as an unsteady moment betrayed her body’s weakness from its loss. Her posture was secure, strategic, and he could still see the words of triumph that still rung across her face, the knowledge that in this field, this time, she had made herself superior. And he loved it. He loved this look on her. He laughed softly along with her, swallowing against the pressure upon his Adam’s apple, smirking then as it was all fun, and for this moment he didn’t want to touch this balance, this dynamic. “I knew you had my healing factor. Just wanted to keep you on your toes, you know?”
