26/05/19
04:17 AM.
The measure of how long he’d been walking, or how deep into the base he now was, was unknown to him. The intimidating aura the metallic hallways seemed to exude to certain mutants was completely lost on him, though it was hard to blame him for his overconfidence judging by the way the very oxygen in the room seemed to shy away from his path. Lips stained with splatters of raw red from a recent kill, contrasting almost garishly against the porcelain skin and the chasm dark eyes, and knuckles bruised from knocking into a withering rib cage, the man clearly was making no effort to blend in or be subtle as he manoeuvred the lower level of the base. Had they desired their mercy, they ruined their chances when they chose to take the one person he loved more than himself.
Destruction haunted his resolute footsteps, a landscape of horror. Painted within the frame were the mangled bodies of enforcers that had crossed his path, each efficiently disposed of, the tearing in the walls from the altercation, revealing circuit boards and scurrying noises that probably belonged to rodents. Smears of red washed across the canvas. Blood everywhere, on the walls, on the floor, on his hands, on his tongue. It had been years since Lucien had gotten his own hands dirty, often leaving the busy work to his minions. Since Robin’s capture, the blood lust had been too strong to resist, however, and was unlikely to subside until he got his boy back. And he would, even if he had to turn the entire fortress into a graveyard.
It was one of the few times his face was completely drained of any humanity, no flickers of life visible across the smooth planes of his handsome face. Everything about him betrayed the darkness that wrapped around his heart like a sickness. Still he gave no notice, even to the similarly determined footsteps of his ex-wife and natural-born enemy, Silver Knight. His eyes were focused on the path ahead, only pausing to zero in on the face of each door, his brain frantic and thoughts dagger-sharp as each of his synapses seemed to shrilly demand, are we near him yet? Is this a step closer to making sure our Robin is safe.
Their son was here somewhere, waiting, and while Lucien tended to derive immature pleasure from making people wait, he had no patience for it this time. The only thing keeping him from going door to door and carrying out a base-wide slaughter was the risk of failing to reach the one cell that mattered most in time. Harriet had been the one to talk some sense into him. Otherwise he would have already stalked into the Mayor’s undeserved office and ripped out his throat. Robin would be proud to know how much self-restraint he has built up since their last meeting, he mused briefly, the thought replaced within seconds by something darker. Perhaps his son was counting on his mercilessness this time. Maybe he had been stupid to be swayed by his wife’s gentle reasoning.
Because even if they managed to ensure Robin’s safety, he would be damning the rest of the mutants within the base.
At that thought, the scarlet-tinged mouth twisted with clear disdain. He wondered what was worse, the fact she was right or the fact he didn’t have it within him to care. Though there were people he cared for within this cursed building, none of them amounted to Robin’s worth. For all his fantasies of himself as a benevolent leader, he was failing his team on that front.
It made the hairs at the nape of his neck stand at attention and caused that same exhilaration to turn into acid almost instantly after ward. In a drugged manner, his view consisting only of a series of doors and the sad fools guarding it, and the sound of their bones when they crushed under his grip. He thought instead of Robin when he was just a boy, still round-faced and wide-eyed and the way everything had seemed so vast and bright and possible.
The mayor was confirming all that he already knew. So long as humans were left in a relative position of power over mutant-kind, their futures would be in a constant state of jeopardy. Abruptly halting in his steps, he reached up to rub his temples, if only to eradicate any distracting thoughts of murder from his mind. “This hallway is clear,” He said, pushing at the arm of some young enforcer with the toe of his shoe, wondering how satisfying it would be to step over him as they moved ahead. “They’re not all dead,” He added, not wanting to see the look on Harriet’s face.
Because this right here was where they always disagreed. For all their chemistry and the depth of their romantic bond, he could never convince her of his methods. A part of him resentfully felt that his lover would understand him if she were like him. Harriet bravely donned a suit every day and fought alongside mutants for a cause she believed in, but when the sun set and she came home, she could always take the suit off and leave it to collect dust.
She had that choice to be human. To be saved.
Robin, his team, - others like them - they did not have that option.
Lowering his bloodstained hands, the tall male released a tired sigh. “According to your intel, he should be one floor up, correct? Due to his... threat level.” It was said bitterly. For what were mutants if not threats to all humans, whose inferior birth and refusal to revolve would always place them on the wrong side of history. “I will hurt every single creature that falls in our path,” He warned. “And you can’t stop me. But I can’t have you hating me either. Are we... At least for this mission, we’re on the same side, you and I. Correct?”
He raised his chin as he stared at her, the irony of waiting until after he head carelessly allowed her to witness a massacre carried out by the hands of the man she loved not lost on him. “If you’re agreed, let’s carry on. If not, you can wait here.” @oblame @chxoticpulse
