L'appel du Vide (Call of the Void)
Chapter 3: Precipice
A03 LINK: Chapter 3
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Summary:
Everything you've ever known, down to each fundamental morsel, has changed. !NOT PROOF/BETA READ! enjoy! wc: 3.9k
“Are you ever… Frightened?”
“What do you mean?”
You shifted on the bed, staring deeply into his chocolate gaze.
“Does your strength ever scare you?”
Mark’s lips flattened before releasing a breath.
“All the time,” He answered grimly, sliding an arm under his cheek. The bed shook with his movement.
“Especially when it comes to you.”
You blinked, eyes following the line of his jaw and the curve of his lip. Mark’s eyes twinkled as if he knew what you were imagining. But he steeled his gaze, returning to the conversation.
“But I’ve now spent years honing it and controlling it. I don’t think I’ll accidentally snap you in half anytime soon.”
Your mouth quirked sadly, mind going somewhere distant.
“Sometimes I wish I had your power, only so that you didn’t have to worry so much.”
Mark closed the few inches of space between your faces, placing a delicate kiss on your nose. With a sigh, he wrapped his arms around you and turned onto his back, bringing you with him.
It took only moments for you to begin falling into that lull of slumber.
“Wouldn’t that be something?”
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“How long.”
“Savannah.”
“How fucking long have you known, Cecil?”
You noticed the increase in soldiers now, the twinge of nerves tainting the air. Your heightened senses hit you like a freight train.
“A few days after you were saved, when we began running tests on you. You were aware of the tests, just not all the results.”
“So a month?!”
“Less than that—“
“Semantics,” you growled.
Cecil stiffened at the dominance in your tone, the command and power laced within. The soldiers along the wall shifted warily.
“We weren’t sure, Savannah, not fully. Your DNA had been altered, but we couldn’t be sure just how exactly until we put you through trials. You weren’t showing the physical signs like Mark had. As far as we were concerned, you just had the DNA with none of the abilities.”
You struggled to keep your rage in check, to douse the roaring in your head.
“So you just watched and let me hide rather than learn just what I was capable of.” You blanched, ice running down your spine as the realization hit you. “The underground safe house wasn’t just for my safety. It was for everyone else’s.”
Cecil’s silence gave you your answer.
A thick, heavy tension filled the space between you and the Director. You felt that power now, rumbling and coursing through your veins like fire. It screeched within your blood, like it knew it shouldn’t have been there.
Pulsing, growing, festering—
“Show me all of it. Show me everything you have,” You hissed, voice strained. “Run the damn tests, Cecil.”
“Savannah—“
“No. I’m tired of being on the outside. I’m tired of being the one kept out of the secrets, meetings, and discussions. I make the decisions now.”
Cecil took a deep breath, running her over with a speculative glance, before turning to the door.
“Alright.”
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“What’s that one?”
“The serum we, the GDA, administered.”
There were at least three variations of the GDA’s serum, dating from the first time the Flaxans attacked Chicago to the one given to you by Dr. Oh while you were stuck with the Variants. You’d wondered, so many times before, what the serum consisted of, with all it was capable of. It seems the GDA had inherently made a super serum. You blinked, shutting your eyes briefly before turning to the screen to the right.
“And… that one?”
“The one Angstrom gave you, recovered from your blood as well.” You suppressed the shiver at the distant, aching memory of that day in Guardians HQ.
Your head banged against the metal wall behind you, the ache pulsating through your skull. But you couldn’t react—you could barely fucking breathe. You could only stare in horror as he stepped into the cold white light of the hallway, circling you like a predator. He looked different now, as if someone had stitched pieces of him together and had forced them to fit. Metal discs with red siphons sank into his skin, glowing like a heartbeat around his veiny head. Great jagged scars ran down the right side of his face like lightning, straight through a pale, silver-blue eye. He was more metal than man, but it was him.
Angstrom.
“You,” You mumbled, choking on your tightening throat. He took another step toward you, eyes alight menacingly, and you flattened even more against the wall. “Y-you’re not real.”
“Aren’t I,” He whispered, cutting infront of the lab door, where Mark was getting operated on. You blinked, ice flitting through your veins. You couldn’t let him get to Mark—not while he was in such a vulnerable state. You lurched forward, aiming for the door, when suddenly he was directly in front of you. You screamed as your nose grazed his chest, flailing back. Your feet caught air, stumbling over nothing as you plummeted to the ground.
Pain blossomed up your spine as you collided with the floor, body aching as you scrambled to regain your footing. But Angstrom was too quick. One beefy hand pinned your shoulder down as he straddled your chest and reared back.
White-hot pain filled your head as it whipped to the side, your vision blurring. A slurred moan left your lips as you spiraled into darkness, your body going limp from the hit. You floated, weightless in the limbo as you neared unconsciousness, your fear nothing but a whisper.
Angstrom tsked his tongue above you, the sound echoing in your mind with no consequence.
“While I wish I had an audience to witness this, I must move quickly, and while your lover is out of commission. But, I suppose an explanation is due,” He began, his putrid breath wafting over your face. He reached into the pack by his side, glass and metal clinking.
“You are Mark’s catalyst. You shape what hero and person he becomes. Most of the time, your death has led them to a spiral… Into twisted, bitter, lonely husks of who they once were,” He began, producing a vial and a syringe. He spoke to you as casually as if you two were meeting for lunch. “Other times, you have led them to insanity infused rage, fueling the destruction and conquering of their world. Only one other time did it work—you two worked. But, alas, it too ended poorly.” He filled the syringe slowly, checking the measurements. “It seems my dear, you are doomed in every other universe. And, in this one? With all of them hunting after you, willing to destroy anyone in their path?”
He leaned forward until he was mere inches from your face. If only you had the right mind to be scared. But you were far, far away, only a few seconds from total darkness.
“You have doomed everyone else.”
Angstrom leaned back on his knees, slipping the vial back into his sack. With a dry laugh, he began pushing your sleeve up.
“Perfect for me, of course, but what a shame that such a pretty face has become nothing but collateral.”
Angstrom seemed to find his own words funny, flicking at a vein near your wrist.
“Don’t take it personally, sweetheart. You’re simply a means to an end. But until I have use for you, I need you alive—which you seem to have a knack for endangering. This will ensure your survival…for now.” You felt a faint pinch and then something ice-cold seeping through your veins. But you couldn’t do anything, not as you succumbed to the sweet pull of rest.
“Sleep well.”
You released a shuddering breath, rolling your shoulders as you shoved yourself out of your mind and back to the present. If Cecil had noticed, he didn’t mention it as he continued explaining.
“After you got back, while you were in and out of consciousness, we ran as many labs as we could. You, fundamentally, are different.”
You steeled yourself, brushing your hair over your shoulders and straightening your spine. You ran a discerning gaze over the scans, results, and labs. God, there was so much you didn’t know and understand about all of this. There was so much that was unfair and unnecessary about this. But this was your life now, whether you liked it or not. And you’d be damned if you didn't take advantage of the freedom you’d fought so hard for.
“Okay, so then what powers do I have?” You asked, hands on your hips. Cecil gave you a wry smile, and that tension finally ebbed from his shoulders.
“Let’s find out, kid.”
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“Open your eyes.”
“No!” You screamed, the wind ripping through your bones. It already sucked that you were freezing, two of Mark’s hoodies covering your trembling body. The first time you’d allowed Mark to fly, you had been filled with adrenaline. That courage was now gone, replaced by bone-chilling fear.
“Open your eyes, scaredy cat,” Mark chuckled, lips grazing your ear. You shivered at the rumble of his voice and the frigid air, huddling closer to his chest. “It’s not that scary, I promise.”
“Says the man that can fly against gravity, instead of falling with it.”
Mark laughed again, the sound lost in the wind, hands tightening under your knees and around your back. And without another word, he zoomed into the great blue sky at a speed that made your stomach twist.
You gulped, staring at the hundred-foot drop before you, the shell of what was once the elevator shaft to your safe house. The crater caused by No Goggles. You pushed th rising bile back down, reminding yourself to focus on the task ahead of you: defying gravity, not succumbing to it.
You’d awoken earlier in your temporary room—lab was a better word—floating on the ceiling. Your bones had felt eerily light then, the air malleable under your muscles.
The blood tests Cecil had already run had determined you near indestructible, but you’d yet to put that to the test.
Hence why you were here, standing before a fall that was lethal to most.
But not to you…
Hopefully.
Ah, what the hell, you’d been through worse things than dying.
You wriggled your fingers, gulping down a few lungfuls of oxygen before you toed the edge of the darkness.
And then you fell.
Down, down, down, stomach flying into your mouth and then straight out of it as you descended into the darkness. Your eyes shot wide, arms flailing as you gained speed.
“Shit, shit, shit—“ you hissed, the winds whipping tears from your eyes. You weren’t flying—you were falling! On your way to becoming human jelly splattered on the ground, before you could even do anything meaningful with your life.
“Shit! Fuck! Shit!” You screamed now, as the wrecked and cratered floor came into focus with alarming speed, the air around you roaring in your ears.
You pushed, with your abdominal muscles, kicking your feet against the air as you tried to propel upward. But it was useless. Your body couldn’t give two shits as you hurtled further toward your demise.
Jesus Christ, how had Mark done it?!
You opened your mouth to shout, but no sound came out, as your heart leaped into your throat.
Oh fuck, you were actually going to die, you thought with a twinge of fear.
Your hair whipped behind your face, skin numb, and you braced yourself for the sting of pain and then the following numbness.
But, instead of that bone-crushing landing, your body lurched to a halt, a gasp ripping from your throat.
And tentatively, you peeked through a slit eye and found the jagged ground mere inches from your face. But you weren’t painted across it, no, you were hovering above it. Hovering
Your eyes flew open wide in surprise, able to see clearly in that dark, musty chasm, that you were indeed in stasis, almost a foot above the floor.
“Holy shit,” You whispered, heart racing in your ears. You were alive. You were alive. Your face split into a wide grin. “Holy shit!”
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Donald stared down at his data pad, one eyebrow quirked slightly.
“So you can fly.”
You swallowed the flicker of irritation before confirming, describing the hours spent leaping and floating and soaring and diving in that cavernous hull. Donald nodded as he tapped on the pad before glancing up.
“We’ll get you into one of the training courses or wind tunnels so you don’t have to keep jumping into an OSHA violation.”
You didn’t hide your wry smile, nodding silently as Cecil appeared. The chamber you were in was one of the newer ones, apparently, stocked with the newest and greatest technology to test out your new abilities. Cecil didn't have to say it, as you scanned the warehouse-like room, but you knew. Deep down, you knew this had been built for Mark.
“Well, this is it, kiddo,” Cecil sighed, hands resting on his hips as he came to a stop beside you. “What do you want to start with first?”
You eyed the machinery, the deep pools of water, the cylindrical tunnels carving through the ceiling. A strange sort of weight settled in your stomach, but you eventually cleared your throat.
“Speed.”
Cecil, though a bit wary, nodded before gesturing to a military-grade treadmill.
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You stared down at the metal floor, leg bouncing so quickly you could barely see it. A rug covered it, a poor excuse to make the environment ‘cozy,’ and ‘welcoming.’ You forced yourself to take a long, deep breath.
A clock chimed on the desk across the room. Eight PM. You’d spent all fucking day in that training room. You still felt like you could take on satan. How was that even possible, you wondered. How were you not drained, or bruised, or, least of all, tired?
“How fast did they determine you are?”
You blinked, returning to the present. God, if you could get rid of anything, it would be this. Even with your freaky powers and strange abilities. This was unbearable. Therapy.
“800,000 km/h.”
The woman shifted in the chair across from you, nodding slowly.
“And how does that make you feel?”
You suppressed your eye roll, rolling your shoulders as your agitation spiked. That was another thing. Your feelings were… Brutal. So much stronger than before, surging and bellowing through you without a moment’s notice. When you were angry, you raged. When you were sad, you were devastated. And… Well, you didn’t really feel much else past those two emotions.
Hence, the doctor staring down at you through her thin-rimmed glasses. Her gray eyebrow arched in question, waiting. Oh, right, her question. You shook your head, exhaling through your nose.
“Really fucking fast?”
The doctor gave you a pointed look that seemed to silently say, ‘smartass,’ before clicking her pen against her notebook.
“No, that your stats are being compared to Mark’s to decide where you’re at.”
Your heart stuttered, face faltering as the words rattled in your chest. The irritation, which was bubbling into ire, turned to ash. You blinked, your body suddenly extremely heavy.
That name, clanging through your body like it was nothing more than that shattered elevator shaft.
“I think I feel like you should take that pathetic degree and shove it up your—“
Her raised brows and twinkling eyes stopped you cold, and you’d realized your mistake as she began jotting down what you assumed to be your response to her prodding.
To discern whether you were stable. Whether or not you were mentally capable of the power now coursing through your veins.
Something icy speared through you, and you let your features fall neutral.
You didn’t answer anymore questions after that.
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A month passed, and more tests ensued. And somehow, being constantly compared to Mark seemed to lose its sting eventually,
Not that any other feeling replaced it, though. No, that area of your mind was strangely cold and quiet.
Your training took up all of your focus, as well as your results.
You were just as fast, strong, and unbreakable as Mark had been when he’d gotten his powers.
Much to Cecil’s dismay, even if he tried not to show it. You saw his criticizing stare underneath the pity. You knew he saw you first and foremost as a threat.
Which is why you were dedicated to mastering your powers with unprecedented urgency.
“Again,” You growled, turning your head to the side and spitting blood onto the concrete. The first hit the Reanimen had managed to land. A shuffle sounded behind you.
“Kiddo, maybe we should take a break—“ Cecil began from above the arena pit you were in, eyeing the smoldering piles of metal around you warily.
“No,” you hissed between gritted teeth, rolling your shoulders. You could get this move set right, you knew it. “Again.”
You’d studied videos of Omni-man’s fighting style, as well as Dupli-Kate’s, Darkwing’s, and Mark’s. Hours had been spent learning their fighting styles, their tricks, and their advantages. Hours turned to days, turned to weeks. All spent in this crusted, sandy fighting pit, taking on the same Reanimen that were painstakingly put all back together after each round.
You stilled your breathing, letting your strength rise and fill your bones as you lowered yourself into position.
It was nearly ten at night, hours past the last hour recommended for training, but you needed to get this. To engrain the moves in your head. So you’d never be weak again. Never be helpless. And the pain? It was secondary. It was good.
Three Reanimen sparked and slumped before you, their eye narrowing as they analyzed your growing weaknesses as your exhaustion progressed.
And then they launched.
It was too much, you realized. You’d reached your threshold. And even though they could not kill you, they sure could fucking hurt you.
And somehow you found yourself, cornered and panting.
And they were dealing hits faster than you could comprehend.
Maybe, maybe you should’ve stopped three hours ago.
But those eyes. That pain. That stinking fear lingered in your memories.
And their hits only fueled that faint roaring in your mind.
That roaring that had been there since the very beginning, since Mark Grayson crashed into the ground in downtown Chicago. Since you’d thrown your body atop his in protection.
The culmination of pain and darkness and lingering suffering and—
Wham, another flare of pain up your side.
They were on all sides, the metal lining of the wall digging into your aching spine.
Bam, another.
“Miss Fawn,” A voice called out nervously. Pain—
Again, and again, and again—
“No!” You screeched, taking a punch to the nose. “I can do it.”
Another blow, this time to your stomach. Your vision blurred, the roaring in your ears doubling and beginning to drown your senses.
“Savannah—“
Your head was knocked back with one blow under your chin, and another blooming on your cheek.
“I can—“
White-hot pain lanced through your body, but the roaring was louder. Wilder.
You cursed, as the Reanimen converged again, even as Cecil ordered them to stand down. Their hands morphed, their faces blurring. Until you saw Sinister’s. And No Goggles’s. And Emperor’s. And Angstsrom’s.
And that thing, that roar in your head and that force in your chest, exploded.
You screamed, eyes flaring as a shockwave split from you, booming through the pit and shaking the room to its core. In one second, the Reanimen were upon you. And in the next, they’d exploded into red and grey mist. Through a frequency so powerful it left your ears bleeding.
And then, it was utterly still.
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“You refuse to talk about him, Miss Fawn. You redirect the conversation each time I get the slightest bit close.
You rolled your eyes, glancing out of the therapist’s room, through the thin floor-to-ceiling Interior windows, showcasing one of the many monitor rooms in the Pentagon. Cecil was down there, conversing with Dr. Sinclair. Most likely discussing when your training would start.
“It’s because it’s unnecessary.”
Cecil had warned that it was too soon to start, the wound still too fresh. You begged to differ, saying that two days after receiving your powers was more than enough time.
The therapist sighed, gaining your attention.
“My dear, it is perhaps the most important thing to unpack and sort through—“
“They’re all dead,” you said flatly, even as the words burned your throat. “That part of my life is over.”
“But Mark Grayson, your Mark, is not. And he hasn’t changed.”
You got up, having heard enough. To hell with therapy. That shit was overrated. You disappeared through the door without looking back.
“But I have.”
You marched through the Pentagon’s halls, ignoring the wide-eyed stares you received as you stormed past. You curled your hands into fists, an old habit returning, and felt your nails slice through the skin of your palm as you reigned in your anger.
You gritted your teeth, slipping and ducking around random GDA employees as you neared the main monitor room—the new one.
You burst through the doors without a second glance at the two bulky guards standing on either side, the soldiers deathly still.
The room was silent, an otherworldly weight heavy upon it. And you didn’t notice it at first, the horror-laced shock that twinged the air. You couldn’t think past your own rage and confusion to notice the pittering of the heartbeats around you, erratic and stuttering.
Until you saw Cecil, pale-faced and grim as he viewed the monitor.
Your anger faltered as your eyes turned to the screen, just in time to see Mark Grayson—no, Invincible. You didn’t get the chance to take in the scene around him, the sequids and overrun city and terror. Not as Mark swung his fist through the Sequid-controlled man, blowing his body apart and effectively ending his life.
And as if the blow had gone through your own body, you staggered backward with a brutal gasp. Your head spun as multiple eyes flicked toward you.
“Savannah, you shouldn’t be in here right now,” A voice said, murky and muffled in your head. Bile rose in your throat, burning. Your knees threatened to buckle as Mark’s face and body morphed… Morphed into all the others—
“Savannah.”
You blinked, through blurred vision, turning to find Cecil gripping your forearms to keep you standing, you realized.
“He…” You choked, shaking your head. “He doesn’t kill.”
Regret flashed in Cecil’s eyes, his jaw clenching. Releasing a breath through his nose, he slid a hand to your shoulder.
“Come on, kiddo, you need to rest.”
Denial flared in your veins as you were led away, bones too light and head too fuzzy for you to do it yourself.
No, no, no, they had the wrong Mark—something had gone very wrong. That wasn’t—that couldn’t be your Mark.
“He doesn’t kill,” You kept whispering, even long after Cecil had left you in your suite.
“He doesn’t kill, he doesn’t kill,” You repeated to no one, curled up in the corner of your closet, with only your racing heartbeat as your companion.
“He doesn’t kill.”
A/N: gonna try to post chapters once a week!
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