The Art of Playing Wifey - "Daisies on your nightstand"
Chapter 2 - "Daisies on your nightstand" 🌼
Nakedddd, some implied violence, kidnapping, dark themes (here we go down the hole)
Simultaneously you were both visible, cringing and very much trying to use Viltrumite as a makeshift dressing curtain. He didn't mind you leaning into him, if that's what it could be called. He hadn't found the words he would say to you after so long. You stepped on his toes, hoped to awkwardly dislodge his unmoveable grip on your wrist. "Seriously get off me" You may as well have been speaking Kingon because that's all he heard. Features schooled, he didn't show his excitement.
Yet he seemed to forget himself for a moment but he made no move to unlatch.
Mohawk whistled, beating lensless in what could only be described as a what not to do sexual harrassment demonstration. before he could finish marking out every detail, patch of skin- he saw your ass.
"Holy shit" He could have swung his jaw to the islands and back. As if he hadn't had you ripped away just after highschool had ended and when his reign against weaker life eventually begun. He wants to give you poetry- compare you to a fuckin' painting in this moment, but old habits died hard.
“Well… that’s one way to say ‘hello.’” He whistles low, more performative than sleezy, but still every bit as suggestive as the slow scan of his eyes approving what he could see.
"I can't exactly help it- Stop looking!"
“Enough. We finish the mission. But she stays untouched. You know Angstrom’s terms.” Viltrumite again confuses you. Only Lenseless seems to have an issue with it, naturally so given he had been nothing but impulsive from the start, how Angstrom kept him in line (if there even was one) remained a mystery, the guy was about as stable as a bag of marbles.
That got your attention, your survival, the ultimate goal in mind.
But of course one of them had to run their mouth.
"Oh Gag me with a power beam! guys this has got to be hands down the best thing that's happened since we got here- oh wait wait, no wait using shapeshifter as a cheese string was awesome too" He snorted, mocking, skirting around the instinctual range Viltrumite had imposed since your capture. "Point stands~ I wanna seeee" He complained, receiving a whack in the face.
“Terms are just suggestions to bleed through.” Sinister concluded for the group, the only one not actively trying to fuck you with their eyes to an extent. You shied away from his hard gaze, you felt twice as naked, more shy. Hearing that you were to be untouched was a partial relief, but it didn't quite slow the rapid pulse hammering your aorta out of shape when he didn't elaborate- just merely creating problems, stirring the pot. You weren't dumb, within the range of them- if any of the decided to just fight it out, or hell miscalculate even a breath, you could very well die, powers or not. Not that being invisible gave you that bad of a power trip, your line of work was limited because of the nature of it- you were no front page hero by all means and that had been fine. It was like a shield, it had gotten you out of many situations of varying danger, but it really didn't feel that secure now... when the danger could see you.
You felt the latch come back, the mental balance needed to cause the reaction in your body that had you turning translucent to the naked eye in seconds and ending the unintended free show. "Oh what the fuck!"
"come back" One complained dramatically. The one floating in the air like he was on the cover of covergirl: homicidal men addition. It was hard to imagine that one killing anything with how nonchalant and up-beat he was. but you knew differently. The Wardens blood still coated your shins and had began to stick. A shower had never been more appealing in a psychotic way before.
"You're gripping too tight" Viltrumite finally listened and released your aching wrist just enough to not pulse.
It was a complete surprise when he actually listened, a man who you knew could crush your entire body with just his pinky toe had just listened because you told him it made your dainty little human wrist hurt. what the fuck?
He regrets that he cannot see you, but he addresses the others, the operational side of him coming out full force. They had presumably done their jobs. Destroyed their assigned places, tarnished invincible's reputation and caused a death count rivaling that of historical numbers.
"She is not decent. We will need to get her clothes." Part of him disagrees, but ultimately he knew if he wanted to see her up close, they weren't going to do it with her invisible and she didn't exactly look like she wanted to be putting on a show.
That had to be a good thing right? they weren't going to kill you if atleast one of them had just brought up getting you clothes? the pot asks the kettle. These were not good guys by any count. When you see the shambles that was your peripherals, what else was there now?
"I left them in a backpack behind the bins" You admit. If they were going to get your clothes, at least that solved half the problem. "But not that guy." You looked at Sinister. He freaked you the fuck out. he was like a human waterballoon full of snakes, scorpions and bad intentions.
Which sucked, because Mohawk looked like he was ready to tear the universe apart just to get it over with and get to the good shit. His mistresses were mere flickers compared to the roar you caused. Omni kept forgetting about the mumblings and ramblings the others would sometimes go on, prior to the attack. He knew Mohawk had you up until you died just after highschool, and he had pieced together from ramblings that you had been a friends with benefits, but Mohawk had mentioned killing off any partners you ever brought up just so that he could fuck you back to your old self again. He was dangerous, but not a threat at this moment.
"I totally forgot why I was about to punch the shit out of you dude" Mohawk Started. "Because you know you wouldn't last against me." Omni counters.
"Wait why does he get her?" Lensless complained, trying to annoy you as he danced around the Viltrumites personal space. "He only just got here- that ain't fair" He says, knowing full well he had talked the viltrumite's ear off on the flight from Paris. They were all still in that weird window of 'back off- bull seeing red'
"Uh, No one's getting anything, I hardly know you"
"You will" Mohawk grins, Omni shoots him a look for his suggestive and distasteful tone. "Now is not the time to antagonize." The very same principles that he was trying to impose, redundant when there had been a time where he was no different... different times. "Agreed, Angstrom will require an update and a check in to ensure the plans have been enacted as planned." Viltrumite had no interest in adding to the unfolding events, happy behind his stoic face of calm to see you here yet he would have to play it by ear up until the portals opening up, then he would strike. "Angstrom can suck a d-" No one had to hear the rest of Lenseless's thoughts on the matter when he simply thrusted the air.
"Then what dumbass? we get left here? yeahh no thanks. You couldn't pay me to stay in this shithole, now..... if it were just me and y/n however......" Mohawk was quick to point out the flaw of pissing off Angstrom. He may be human, fragile but the four brained asshole had a way with portals and that was invaluable given they needed to go back home after this.
Sinister spoke for you. "Nothing would happen, boy. we are all here for a reason" He would have said it right then and there- they had needed to fill the hole that their dimensions version of y/n had been carved out since their varying deaths. They all had different stories, none told given they hated working with eachother.
You hadn't wanted to not know so bad.
Luck was on your side today, but not entirely when it was decided for you that you needed a shower, clothes- to which some complained only to be given withering looks and firm 'No''s-, and somewhere not destroyed whilst they waited to hear back. Viltrumite doing the honors, having either ignored or forgotten you had told them where you had put your clothes.
You were taken to a nearby hotel that had been half demolished, but had a few useable rooms, or so Omni commented upon first exploration. It was good enough. They allowed you to take a shower, some trying their best not to crowd your space and some doing a shitty job entirely.
Fully knowing that some of them would not be trusted, not that you trusted any of them. you just didn't want to die and they hadn't killed you so far, or showed crystal clear signs of doing so, unless forgetting their own strength counted? it was terrifying how close you seemed to get to being crushed or maimed by accident, yet it didn't stop them.
It was a comfort to know however that a few of them had left to check in on this Armstrong guy you kept hearing about in snippets, the context lost to you, especially so as to why WHY why they were working for someone else when they could probably fly into the sun and tell the tale. Leaving the shower in your towel however made you regret that feeling when you saw your glorified "babysitters" were. Really? they thought to leave you with the punk, the stern looking one in a skirt and the Omniman replica. Still, could be worse... right?
Mohawk lounges on the window sill, boots scuffed, arms crossed, until he spotted you from the crack in the door, holding something to you. Oh. He got it, was on you like a dog to a bone.... and he had your clothes... great. "Looking for something, sweetheart? Thought you might've gone invisible again—Guess you'll be needing these huh?"
Viltrumite Mark stands near the doorway, scanning for movement. "Give her the clothes."
"Oh come on, babe we went over this like a billion times- we ain't going to hurt you, yeah?" he says, blatantly ignoring the viltrumite looking at him rightfully as if he was scheming something, Mohawk hated that they knew most of eachother's tells. He knew full well you'd have to come over to him for the clothes. What was playful in his mind, felt entirely off-kilter in yours.
"It makes me feel safer if I stay like this" A silent 'This isn't a free show' palpable.
Mohawk clicks his tongue, says nothing else, seeing as you were deadly serious. "Whatever, we agreed that when you have clothes on- visible? yeah?" It wasn't a reminder, so much as a gentle nudge. They hadn't known what to think of you, there was so much they collectively knew.. and still, so much they didn't know. They were essentially strangers in your eyes, strangers being a kind stretch of verbage if you didn't already add Kidnapping and unlawful handling to the list of things they had done, on top of the big super duper extra special global crisis going around.
"Yes" was most definitely a silent 'for now' not that they needed to know that, besides if they had already caught you- how the fuck were you going to have the opportunity again? the worst that could happen is one of the misinterpreting your escape for a strip tease.
Viltrumite noticed the stiffness of your form wrapped in the towel, takes one look at Mohawk, see's he's taking delight in this little exchange. Within seconds he's in front of Mohawk, clothes taken and offered in front of you before you could even decide what to do. Knowing you were useless visible, you took the clothes, didn't thank the guy because he was also part of the group who A. had the ability to slap the face of earth without a sweat and B. Who had helped them all kidnap you. His White and Grey uniform did jack shit for any remaining credit he may have been looking for, although it was nice to see one of them not covered in blood like it was a remaster of Carrie.
Viltrumite seemed for all his scary worth to grasp that you, having not known them like they knew.... another version so to speak, an anomaly who might share traits with the versions they knew, but he made no assumptions, unlike some of the others who were doing a shitty job of seperating the two as concepts, more so when they talked (hopefully) not in your presence.
You didn't entertain the little nudge creeping in, that what if there is nothing else to go back to- nothing to rebuild, no survivors, no structure- if the world had already been devastated enough from today. Stepping out of the bathroom, clad in a white top one size too big for you- the owner a grim afterthought. Mum jeans with flares towards your feet just didn't feel like you, but what other choice did you have? risk going invisible again- cause a blind panic, and potentially flirting with death because they were really not careful when they were trying to find something. Or. stay in the clothes, ignore the ick that you were wearing some dead person's clothes and try and play this out until you could assess your next move. With them, you were safe... maybe? they hadn't made a move to kill you, something you could just guess was not something they were used to. You had done it twice before in a pinch, played interested in some old client, bid your time and shimmied the fuck out of their when work dried up.
It wasn't a case of If now.
It was now frighteningly a case of what's the next play here. First, you'd need to try and find out more, really know the pieces on board. If you could find a way to loop into the plans, convince them that they could drop their guard, not the for show facade you suspected. The real mask that prevented them from cracking their defenses.
It took more effort than you'd admit to calm down as best as you can, try to act like this was all fine, that the world wasn't burning as you knew it outside of the lonely hotel building that from the groans would be temporary. You sat down on the edge of the bed, taking note of Mohawk's supposed 'restraint,' a restraint you suspected was due to the Viltrumite one in his blood free uniform lingering by the door under the guise of keeping watch.
You work your way in gently, like you were just trying to process everything. He could probably tell you were lying through your teeth with how awkward it was for you to grease the wheels up, or at the very least he was saving you the face of admitting it when he watched you try and muster up something he would not pick up on his radar, if anything- this one was less.... uh. Less mainstream than the others, still unhinged and giving you the feel that it wouldn't be too far fetched to think he had a lotion drawer.
