Flashback
The unlit cigarette, braced on a desperate lip, reminded him of a time he’d almost given it all up, lacking the desire even to unlatch his lighter, and brandish pleasure in the sweet intake of smoke, his one true affliction. Gage pondered this a moment, while scratching absently at the rough five o’clock shadow that was beginning to show on his neck. His damn hair seemed to grow twice as fast, since becoming a Hybrid. He didn’t mind it so much, as irksome as it was to have to brandish a razor next to three times as frequently, given that it was relatively minor as far as complaints went, and it counted as his only real one with the change in species.
Frankly, it was the best thing that could have happened.
The only good thing in his miserable life had been death.
But it hadn’t come at the hands he’d expected, which had been his own. Instead, it had come at the hands of his unlikely lord and saviour, Klaus. What timing his master had, showing up when he did. Oh sure, at the time Gage had thought it horridly inconvenient, and for a second he could taste the iron of metal all over again, its coppery bite against his tongue as he prepared to pull the trigger meant to blow his own brains out. He’d been so close, spending his last moments sending out a prayer for his mother, and apology that he hadn’t been strong enough, that he’d been such a pathetic failure, when Klaus had arrived on the scene, all nonchalant and goading, egging him on to do it if only for his own gloated pleasure.
Suicide wasn’t exactly the thing people liked to do in company, and so he’d tried to get him to leave, let him die in the peace of solitude and silence, with only his own miserable thoughts for comfort in those final moments, but for whatever reason Klaus had refused. Perhaps it was his ill-branded humour, bleak and black and ready to easily dismiss how he sucked metal, vulgar in his comments meant to make Klaus uncomfortable, and leave.
Of course, that had been before Gage had known what his soon to be master was, he would have known better then to try and frighten him off then, but of course he hadn’t exactly been in the best mind frames, what with the absolution of the end on his mind, and nothing else. Gage still wasn’t sure what had promptly Bossman to do what he’d done next, essentially offer the world – at least what had been the world to Gage at the time.
A way out, but it was more than that. He’d promised power, strength, the ability to cast aside those that dared speak up against him, like those meek pathetic humans that had nearly driven him over the edge, his reason for wanting to claim his own life in the first bloody place.
They had been the first to die, of course, after the fact, but that was another story.
This one simply pertains to that moment, hinged on indecision and the desire to make something more of himself. Gage might have refuted, disbelieving Klaus’s claims in the notion of not trusting a soul, save one thing. Here was someone, finally, willing to take a chance on him, offered him that which he never thought himself possibly of obtaining, in exchange for nothing but a willingness to listen. Loyalty for immortality, it had seemed like a strangely fair trade.
It had been.
So he’d agreed, having already been in the position to open his arms to death, and welcomed this new embrace – the change – with an enthusiasm that couldn’t be faked. He wanted it, craved it, with an intensity that had surprised them both at the time, but not so much as Gage had been surprised by the fact it had worked, half figuring Niklaus to be a raving lunatic high on crack – it wouldn’t be the first time one had promised him salvation – but he’d been ready for the end anyway, so what was the harm in such a marvelous gamble?
With a smirk that twisted Gage’s lips up, offsetting that cigarette to one side as his hands patted over the top of wool pockets, he considered the final outcome, where he was now opposed to that grave six feet under, and frankly, he asserted with a successful flick of a newly found zippo, lighting the cancerous joint instantly, he’d never been fucking happier.
In the end, no matter how degradingly he was treated, Klaus had given him everything.
Life.
But more importantly, his master had gifted him the strength to survive it, the power to handle it, and most meaningfully of all, the will to live it.
What more could a Minion ask for?
Beyond the title of friend, nothing.
Nothing at all.
Yes, Gage though, with a thick inhale of smoke that represented everything he’d over-come, an expulsion of toxic chemicals, he was finally happy.
Life couldn’t get any better than this.
Not even with Freedom.