Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

2001

The blazing, looming sun brightened Cole's skin, warm with gushing blood. His bare feet scraped against the cracked asphalt as each twinge of pain made his eyes flicker red.

"...keep...keep...going," He muttered, limp everywhere except for his legs. Drops of crimson tinted his stinging vision, but he persisted nonetheless. Something would have to be at the end of the road, some kind of haven over yonder for him before he rots under the sun.

He turned to see the trail of blood he left behind, and pushed forward.

***

2018

A red glow, my red glow, shines on a cradle below me. A beam of sunlight hits my face, barely creeping between the curtains.

My eyes lower to him, peacefully sleeping. His little chest rises and falls with small breaths.

My son, my Nova.

My heart slows and my body loosens. How long have I been staring at him? It was dark out a little while ago.

Eh, I don't rest much anyway; just not something I need. On the other hand, Nova's probably slept more in ten months than I have in my whole life.

Ten months, fuck. Ten months since…

No, I shove it away, burying it in my head. Can’t let it claw its way back, not again.

It's four in the morning. He’ll be asleep for a while—might as well clean up a little. I stand and pick up the clothes and toys scattered on the carpet, placing them in their respective bins in a monotonous back and forth procedure.

The sun shines brighter and the light goes just above Nova’s cradle. It finds its way inside, even when fully closed.

I dump the last toy with the others and check on him again—still asleep. My heart quiets down again, like always. Like when…

No, shut up.

I could shave. Yeah, that should distract me; It's only five in the morning.

The bathroom light hits me like a flashbang. The red glow returns but fades just as quickly. 

I turn to the mirror, my vision a little blurry.

…Huh, I look like shit.

The slathering of shaving cream, the slide of a razor against my skin, it all happens so quickly. I feel it scrape against every individual hair, the sensation rippling through my face.

“You think he’ll still recognize me?”

I catch myself before anything else leaves my throat. Who…Who am I talking to?

Doesn’t matter, just finish and get back to Nova before he wakes up.

A wet washcloth cleans my face and I promptly put it up to get changed. One last glance at the mirror shows slightly tan flesh mending from small nicks.

Then, when I re-enter the bedroom, I see him sitting in his cradle, completely silent.

I stare—he’s randomly sat up before but never for this long.

I look down at his feet, then to his fidgeting hands, then to his face.

A red glow stares back.

Just. Like. Mine.

He giggles when he sees me and falls backwards.
No. No no no, he shouldn’t be like this, he can’t be like me.

I rush to look over him despite the sun assaulting my eyes. No red, just dark brown. Just like mine, just like…

I must’ve been seeing things. I’m just tired, right?

Nova clearly isn’t. He rolls over and pulls himself up on the bars, vibrating with energy.

A sigh leaves me. I throw on a shirt, open the curtains, and pick him up after grabbing my phone. He’s heavier—still easy to hold, but still, heavier. He was so tiny not too long ago; could barely wrap his hand around my finger.

His stares last longer than they used to. He’s beginning to understand eye contact, I think. I smile and take in his features.

He isn’t as dark as her, but not as light as me, just a strange midpoint between his parents, like most kids I guess. Except for his hair and nose, they’re just like hers.

After changing him, I carry him into the living room, which bleeds into the kitchen. Both are complete fucking messes and not just because of Nova. Bags and boxes pile near the front door, and dirty dishes stack on top of each other, it's all just a goddamn nightmare. 

We pass the dozens of paintings and framed photos, all of which I refuse to look at. He looks at them though, reaching for them.

I stand before the sink and cup cabinet, which Nova continues to marvel at.

Like usual, I keep him in one arm while I prepare the formula in the other. I make sure he isn’t looking as my free hand begins to contort. The skin twists and hardens into a texture like tree bark or dried meat. My hand splits down the middle and my forearm follows. Small strings of muscle and tendons dangle, but it’ll mend soon enough.

Oh yeah, the pain…eh, might as well be a papercut. Sure, it hurts, but it's not worse than, let's say, getting your fingernails ripped out.

One half of my mutilated arm reaches for the powder, while the other grabs the thoroughly cleaned bottle to fill it.

I keep Nova distracted by getting him to babble. He does, albeit quietly and not matching anything close to a word; he’ll get better with enough time. 

I finish mixing the formula and my arm heals. Little scarring remains—like it’ll look any different.

Once he’s given his formula, I sit him down and prepare our food. I just make eggs and leave a tiny portion for him plus some bits of fruit. He still plays with his food when I’m done eating, grabbing them with a tighter grip than before.

I whisper and cheer him on a little, which makes him smile. He suddenly throws his food, which I instantly catch.

A flash of pain.

I focus past the mush in my grip to see a dark bruise with blood already rushing to it.

My eyes meet Nova’s, and all he does is laugh out of pride.

I turn back to my hand—no bruise.

He just threw it hard is all, nothing more. He’s normal, he has to be normal.

I lift him, burp him, and head to the living room. My feet nudge the toys away to make a moderately clean spot on the carpet.

Nova coos as I place him on his stomach. I start a timer for around twenty minutes and sit next to him.

My eyes can’t help but wander to the walls when I try to do a plank or two. I don’t deserve to see them, to see her. All of those captured moments make me feel like when I’m around Nova, just so, so much stronger. I-I want that back, I want her-

Enough. Enough.

She’s…She’s everywhere I look in this goddamn house. I’m always reminded of her, what I could've done. That comfort rots away-

R-r-r-r-ring.

Oh—time’s up. I look down to Nova, who still seems content. That feeling returns, flickering. I smile and pick him up to bathe him. After feeding him again, I flinch at a knock on the door. 

My heart races while Nova remains curious like always. I check the peephole to see a woman awkwardly standing, shrouded in a baggy sweater.

Her—Anna.

The fuck does she want? It better not be some consoling bullshit again, not like that many people cared in the first place.

The door creaks open and her blue eyes stare back. A few unkempt strands of dirty blonde hair drape over them. 

“Come in,” I say.

I usher her to the living room. She seems uneasy, claustrophobic, even. Good, that’ll get her out soon enough. We both sit across from each other as Nova blankly stares at her, mouth agape.

“Well? What do you want?”

“I uh…I just wanted to say-” 

Of fucking course.

“That you’re sorry for my loss? You think that’ll make it better?” I interrupt her quiet, vaguely cheery voice.

“N-No, I…I just want you to know I’m always here if you need an extra pair of hands. You aren’t alone in any of this, ok?”

Anna’s not a close friend, or a friend at all, but she’s not shady. She knew her, and I’ll trust whoever she trusted. If Anna was up to something, I would’ve found out the second she moved in.

I swallow but my throat feels like sandpaper as flesh slides together, interrupting my train of thought.

“Uh-huh, got it. You want anything to drink?”

She shakes her head. 

I keep Nova in my arms as I open the freezer—and immediately close it so Anna doesn't see the row of bloody paper bags filled with my own organs. Business as usual for me, probably traumatizing for anyone else.

I get some tap water and resume our conversation. The humid air’s thick with awkwardness as she tries to shift the topic.

“I-I know I should’ve asked to help earlier…It just ate away at me, you know?”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. We’re doing just fine,” I say, fighting back the growling tone that crawls up from my lungs.

She looks around at the frankly messy house, “Nobody should have to raise a kid alone.”

“Plenty of parents have to do it, and I’m doing great so far-”

“Cole, you need a break, you need to grieve.”

“Since when were you my fu-” I stop myself, interrupted by a soft coo from Nova. I sigh, but her words make me think. 

I’m not leaving him, ever, but an extra pair of hands would be nice.

His soft cheek rests against mine and all my thoughts slow down.

“Fine, how much do you want? Name the price.”

“You’re too nice, I’m fine!”

I narrow my eyes disbelief and it makes her humility shatter.

“I, uh, I dunno…eighty dollars?” She says.

“Got it.”

She smiles and nods, “Just text me and I’ll be here to help!”

I nod back and guide her outside. 

She turns to say her goodbyes, but I notice something across the street—someone in a black car staring behind a pair of cheap sunglasses.

I can feel his gaze, not on me, on Nova. My chest tightens with every passing second.

Anna lifts an eyebrow and turns around. The car instantly books it, screeching and groaning despite its sleek exterior.

“Huh, weirdo…” She says.

After a quick but boring discussion of our schedule, she leaves. 

“Bye Cole, bye Nova!” She gently waves with the most confidence in her voice I’ve heard in a while. I wave back, but Nova’s more focused upwards.

A tint of pink follows the setting sun and a dark sky is left behind. Few stars appear in the void above, but it fascinates my son nonetheless.

He stares, mouth open, like always.

“Yeah, they're stars!” I whisper in a fake upbeat voice. I like talking to him sometimes, even if he can’t understand a word of it.

The mask slips off as I try to ignore my paranoia. It couldn’t have been just some stranger, but it…it can't be them. They shouldn’t want him, he’s normal, right? What was I thinking!? I shouldn’t have gone outside, I shouldn’t have let her in, I shouldn’t-

“Cole, breathe.”

The words are etched into my head, echoing in her voice.

I take deep breaths, deep breaths.

In…out.

Tending to Nova keeps me awake and distracted. He’s fed, changed, bathed, and put to bed after hours of being patted to sleep

I stare at his cradle once more, my eyes returning to a crimson glow. He wriggles and fidgets for a while before going still; that comfort goes with it.

Anna’s words repeat in my mind, spreading to my every thought.

“You need a break. You need to grieve.”

No, no I don’t. I need to take care of my son, I need to give him a life I’ll never get back.

Even then, how can he have that without a mother?

I sit on my bed, eyes watering even with every ounce of resistance I have left. He doesn’t deserve this.

Maybe I do, though.

With a shift of focus, an urn and ring become the center of my vision. The lamp’s just behind it, both on top of her nightstand. All day, every day, it's been a void, a tear in reality that I just have to ignore. Now it's unavoidable, inescapable.

“You need a break. You need to grieve.”

I crumble, desperately trying to leave Nova undisturbed. My fingers dig into my scalp as I fold my head on my lap.

Strands of brown hair fall to the floor when my hands shift to my face.

It hurts. It should hurt. I want it to hurt.

I prepared for the worst, and for what? She’s gone now, and I’m alone.

Again.

Chapter Text

2002

Harsh rain sprayed old college buildings with no lights in sight. Thunder roared in every direction, accompanied by flashes of white in the dark sky.

Quick footsteps and struggling breaths hurried through the empty streets. A woman panted and clung to her satchel with a taser in her other hand.

Her round-framed glasses were drenched and unusable, but she ran regardless through endless, winding alleys and streets. The footsteps behind her only grew in volume like a herd of animals, prowling for prey.

The petrichor, the hellish thunder, it all made her mind cluttered with dread and adrenaline. It would grow overstimulating, entering her every thought, every movement-

Until one fatal slip made it all collapse.

Her body bashed against the stone, scraping her arms and legs in a shockwave of agony and regret. She frantically raised herself, her whole body tense with shrieking, burning pain.

Three men rushed closer to her with increasingly slimy smirks and whisperings. Their heavy breaths accompanied their twitching fingers. 

The woman’s heartbeat grew louder, drowning out their lagging, powerful steps toward her. She patted her surroundings, pushing past the pain to find her taser despite her bogged vision.

The alley grew claustrophobic, narrowing in her head as the sky darkened.

Until a red glow shone from behind her.

The men’s vile grins turned to paralyzing fear. They all turned back, shoving past each other to scurry away.

She turned, still gasping for breath. The light disappeared, and a hooded man in tattered clothes stood in its place.

His brown eyes stared into hers for an awkwardly long period. However, he was a mere outline in her blurry vision, and just another threat.

“D-Do you need help? An ambulance, anythi-” The man said before she finally grabbed her taser and pointed it at him. The flicker of electricity made him flinch, contrasting his large stature.

Their standoff was occasionally interrupted by flashes of lightning. Other aspects of ambiance filled the air as the rain grew lighter, its scent remaining.

“The ER’s not too far from here. I-I can help you there,” He offered.

She still stared, prying a spare pair of glasses from her satchel.

“Fine, I-um…I can’t see shit and my phone’s busted. Just…Just keep your distance. I…I've got a friend there.”

The man nodded and helped her up. As he cautiously led her, blood pooled around her elbows and knees, staining her yellow jacket a subtle crimson.

She distanced herself further the moment his scarred face showed a hint of sympathy.

“I…I’m good. Don’t…fucking try…” She slurred, dizziness making her eyes heavy, which quickly led to her collapse.

Rough hands instantly caught her. The severity of her wounds had finally sunk in, the blood on her knees and elbows a deep, obvious red.

The man suddenly lifted her, making sure her injuries didn’t press against him. His eyes were wide with panic and disarray as he rushed across the empty campus with her in his arms. His inhumanly fast heartbeat thumped against the side of her head.

The woman kept her taser pressed against his chest, even as her consciousness slipped further from her grasp. Reality resumed its collapse until a faint light appeared in the corner of her eye.

A roof came over her head, then another, shorter roof, too bright with fluorescence for her liking as doors slid open. The stench of stale carpets and paint filled her stuttering lungs.

Her heart and breathing quickened, as did her mind.

“Ye…She's…rt” The man’s voice was muffled from her ringing ears. 

“Ju…What….Happ..ed?” Another voice arose, more feminine, and familiar.

The familiar voice helped her to a room, then placed her somewhere slanted and cushioned. Each sleeve and pant leg was rolled up one by one to reveal the brutal scrapes and gashes on her dark skin.

Pain, confusion, and overwhelming discomfort melted and swirled in her foggy memory. The next thing she knew, she was lying on a reclined medical chair, the sunrise spilling through a barely curtained window.

She immediately tried to grab something to ground herself, to make sure she was truly awake and conscious. The ringing was long gone, and the pain was mostly alleviated. Thick bandages tightly wrapped around her elbows and knees.

Her sight remained blurry, but it didn’t stop her from searching her surroundings. A counter, a weight chart, and typical medical equipment; typical with nothing out of the ordinary.

“Julia!"

The woman flinched and turned to see the outline of a friend clad in a typical blue nurse uniform.

“Mia? What…?” Julia said, unexpectedly drowsy in delivery.

“The doctor just finished patching you up and my shift’s done. Let’s…Let’s just get the fuck back home.” Mia carefully helped her off the chair despite her tiredness. Dark bags were prominent on her beige complexion.

“W…Where’s my bag? Where’s my glasses?”

“Right here,” Mia revealed the now dirty satchel slung on her shoulder.

Julia sighed, allowing her friend to help her stand. Once she was on her feet, she grabbed her glasses and slid them on.

“Well? Do they work?”

“Mhm.” Julia groaned, eyes hovering to the exit.

Beige hallways transitioned into a gray parking lot, its dreariness drowned out by the painted morning sky.

Mia gently slid Julia into the passenger seat of their old, cramped car before entering the driver's seat herself. Unlike with the hospital, Julia accepted the smells and textures with little hesitance.

The straight minute of awkward silence was broken by the rumble of the engine.

“Do you...mind if I ask what happened?”

Julia sighed again, deeper and with more frustration as she shook her head. “Fell asleep, ” She lifted her still bloody elbow.

“…You’re weirdly calm about this.” Mia shifted her focus to the road ahead.

“I am?” Julia lifted a brow.

“Uh, yeah! You almost died last night if it weren’t for that guy.”

“Did he say anything after dropping me off? A name? Anything?”

Mia shook her head.

“He’s a ghost or something then, I dunno.” Julia yawned.

As they drove through the bustling streets, Julia closed her eyes. The image of the man appeared if only for a second, sparking bouts of curiosity. Despite that, it brought comfort and...perhaps even safety to her weary mind.

***

2018

The sky darkens, the sun blotted out by swirling clouds in the distance. Goddammit, more rain? Nova always bawls his eyes out whenever he hears thunder.

His hand pulls on my shirt while he sleeps in my arms. He hasn’t been outside much, so I thought we might sit in the messy backyard and get some fresh air. Speaking of which, a lovely cool breeze hits my face, but Nova shivers.

Thirty minutes is enough, I guess. Just in time, too, since one of my phones buzzes in my pocket. I stand and the lawn chair slightly lifts from the lack of weight. The lock-strapped door greets me on my way inside like every other opening in the house. Yeah, it's a pain to get in our out, but that's the point. I can’t slip up ever, not since I saw that car last week.

After changing and feeding Nova through the morning, I finally check the text once my hands are free.

“Remember the schedule. Noon, leopard car this time.”

Huh, guess it's time to trade an organ or two. 

“Any preferences?” I reply.

“Lung.”

I give a thumbs up. Sounds easy enough.

I check the fridge while holding Nova with one arm. My fingers discreetly pry open the bloody paper bags so he doesn’t see them.

Liver…kidney…another kidney…pancreas…Jesus, how many kidneys are in here? Out of all of these bags, and I don’t have a single goddamn lung? 

I groan and close the fridge. Nova coos and smiles, which only makes me feel worse about what I have to do.

On the counter, not too far from the sink, is a basket of pills and vitamins. I pull it towards me, get a glass of water, and down a few painkillers. My son remains oblivious, as he should be. He won’t see any of it, and I won’t have to take out as many of my organs as last time. I tend to remove a few in one sitting, wait for it to heal, and store it in the fridge. 

I’d get Anna to look after him, but I’m not too fond of paying eighty bucks so she can babysit him for twenty minutes. I’ll pay her to do it once I gotta meet in my dealer’s usual spot. 

I hate bringing him with me, ‘cause then they’ll have leverage if I stop trading with them. There’s already someone spying on me and I don’t wanna deal with more jackasses driving past my house.

I grab Nova’s chair on my way to the bathroom and place it near the door, facing it. I’ve baby-proofed the whole room for when we have to bathe, and I’ll only be in the shower for five minutes tops.

I put him in his seat and pull on a drawer just below the sink once I’ve stripped down. All of my stuff’s on the right side including a box of plastic gloves. She…She always kept her things on the left side, said it was easier to get to in the morning. I-I miss her little quirks, even if I didn’t fully understand them.

Among the washcloths and neatly packaged razor blades is a scalpel. Its number twenty blade has a nice sheen in the soft light. I attach a new tip, then grab some bone shears. You get some nice free medical stuff if you’ve got a nurse friend…and if you're a good enough liar. Well, I wouldn’t say I know her that well. She was more Julia’s friend if anything.

God, I hate leaving Nova alone, but I gotta get this done. I give him one last peck on the forehead before entering the shower. The curtain clinks as I cover what I’m about to do. I grab a spare cloth on the metal bar and bite into it after barely prying a pair of plastic gloves on.

I try to clear my thoughts as I lay in the tub. Just get it over with; do it for Nova.

I take a deep breath and make an incision at the top of the sternum. The smell of iron immediately hits my nose, filling my lungs.

The painkillers don’t make me completely numb so I bite into the cloth. A little bit of its water trickles down my neck and mixes with the blood. 

This was way easier with her help. I remember how excited she was to cut me open, to study me. It was kinda hot, now that I think about it.

The blade glides across my skin. A red puddle grows below me as I drag the scalpel around the right rib. I balance my breathing and clear my head, making my cuts even more precise.

Then I grab the bone shears once the skin is pulled back. I wince at the sound of the sternum crunching down the middle as I chip away at it. I take one last deep breath, probably just another excuse to procrastinate. Gotta get it out before I start healing.

I pull at the now loose half of my ribcage and am met with way too many tearing and squelching sounds. The lung itself collapsed the moment I opened its half of the thoracic cavity. My eyes trail down its veiny, tender flesh up to the bronchus and a few blood vessels.

My breath turns hoarse and gravelly and I can barely resist the urge to cough. Blood sloshes out of the wound, begging to spill from my mouth. Its stench is stronger than ever. All of that happens before I even sever it, which I quickly begin doing bit by bit.

Once everything’s cut off, I stare at the slippery husk of flesh that slides along its cavity. My fingers hover over it, equally drenched.

Just get it out, alright?

One…two…

Three.

I finally, delicately lift it from my chest by pinching it.

I relent to the flood of pain that hits me like a barrage of bullets. Sharp ringing fills my ears.

The lung is flaccid in my hand, now drenched in a bright scarlet with my breathing expectedly strained. A shallow lake of a similar color drenches the tub's lower half.

The skin and bones pull themselves back into place. It mutates into that familiar hardened flesh with red veins before healing.

A faded scar remains, like usual.

I crank the shower knob to cold and let it all wash away with some minor cleaning by hand. The smell lingers, but not enough to bother me once the fresh stains are all gone.

Every muscle in my body tightens with zaps of agony. The sting might've been the jolt I needed.

After I finish cleaning up, I realize…

I forgot the fucking cooler.

It's in the backyard, and I’m not letting Nova see this. I let out a long groan and cautiously drop the lung into the empty trashcan next to the toilet.

The second I finish washing off, he starts crying. I immediately hop out and check on him without even drying off. He’s loud but I don’t care, I just need to calm him down.

I pick him up and his cheek presses against my chest. My attempts to shush him are shut down by the gravelly whistle that creeps out of my throat. I feel every nerve and blood vessel slither and expand as the lung regrows.

Everything just happens so quickly, what the fuck was I thinking!? Every part of me feels like it's screaming, scolding me. My ears still ring, trying to mute out my son’s distress.

My voice returns, and Nova quickly quiets down.

“It’s okay, It's okay. I’m right here,” I whisper.

I set him back in the chair after a moment of holding him. Feels nice to properly breathe again.

I dry off, get changed, and shove the lung in a paper bag, which I slip into the cooler. I also bathe, feed, and change Nova before carrying him to Anna’s house. He dozes off in my left arm, while my right drags the cooler.

Each bump in the sidewalk comes with a hope and prayer that it doesn’t spill. Who knows, some jackass jogger could run by and see a bag of organs splayed on the curb.

The thought of that car comes with an animalistic instinct to go faster. I rush to the porch, waking up Nova.

I’m met by plain white and powder blue wood, no chairs, no decorations, nothing. I don’t blame her, she’s handling some pretty hefty student debt as far as I know. Must be stressful, seeing how miserable it made Julia when she got out of college.

My fingers hover over the door, but a few thoughts of hesitation approach the limelight.

What if she sees Nova mutate? She’ll think something’s wrong with him, or me, then…or…

No, if she were with them, I’d know. I would’ve killed her before she could even move in if that were true. I didn’t spend a week straight doing background checks on all of our neighbors for nothing.

A firm knock hits her front door to no response. All her windows're covered, like usual.

I step back after a moment—she’s probably at work.

The turn of my head is interrupted by a groaning door. Fucking hate that noise.

Anna pokes her head from the dimly lit living room. I can’t even tell if there’s furniture.

She rubs her eye, blinded by the bright afternoon light.

“Bad time?” I say, retracting.

“W-Wait, need me to take care of Nova?”

I nod and let go of the cooler to pull some cash from my pocket. A sudden yell makes her flinch. It's too far into the house for me to hear any specific words, but it's a deep, more masculine voice.

“I-uh…dammit. I’m sorry, I can’t right now.” She sighed.

My face shifts to concern, “Everythin' ok?”

Another yell arises, I think he’s saying “Quit it!” but he sounds a little higher-pitched.

Anna slowly shakes her head, mouthing “I’m sorry.” before shutting the door.

Well, shit. She seems nice enough, if a bit awkward.

You know what? I’ve got enough money right now, maybe I’ll drop some off for her, she probably needs it more than I do.

I haul Nova into his booster seat, then put the cooler in the trunk. My crawl into the driver's seat is interrupted by a flash of darkness at the end of the street.

A car, a familiar car.

It drives off opposite of where I’m going, but I still sit frozen for a moment.

I look at Nova in the rearview mirror and his tiny smile distracts me enough to make me drive off. I’ll deal with it if they get too close, it’ll be fun hunting ‘em down if they’re worth killing.

The ride to the usual spot goes from smoothly fast to a screeching halt as the city gets denser. Add having to deal with a baby on board and you’ve got a hair-pulling, frustrating drive. Can’t go too fast or else Nova will throw up, but he can’t be stuck in this booster seat for over an hour. I’ll fucking walk if I have to at this point.

There's just so. Many. Dull. Gray. Streets. They all look the same and are flooded by the same cars and parked near the same fucking buildings. Sometimes I wish we moved out of Houston, somewhere less crowded, maybe smaller too.

After minutes of agonizing traffic, I discreetly separate from the street into a specific alley right next to another boring cafe. Trash and vulgar graffiti litter the narrow brick walls; I used to laugh when driving past them, but they get old after the hundredth time. 

I reach the end, right beside a fancy car with a leopard hood ornament. The driver peeks out of the dark window to make sure it's me. Despite his surgical mask and shades, I see a sliver of his rolling eyes once he sees Nova. My glare makes him quickly cut it out. Can’t get caught pissing off his biggest supplier.

I get out, grab Nova, and pull the bag from the cooler.

“Afternoon,” The passenger says, equally veiled in black like his friend. 

My mouth opens to tell him to fuck off, but I refrain. I need them, much as I hate admitting it. From my fake ID when I was nineteen, all the way to keeping me afloat after Nova was born.

The driver holds out his bloody gloved hand and beckons for the bag. I reluctantly drop it into his hand and hear a muffled squelch from inside. The sound makes a ghost of an ache ripple in my chest.

The passenger rummages through the trash-filled glove box and tosses me a block of cash, around ten thousand dollars. Nova reaches for it out of curiosity.

“Say, if you don’t mind me asking…where do you find this stuff?” He says before the driver elbows him in the stomach.

“He’s new to this. Have a nice day, sir.”

The car drives off, but I hear them arguing for a split second. The whole altercation makes me chuckle. Nova does the same, probably for some other reason.

I place him back in the car and he doesn’t fuss much. The concern arises when I spot a red light in the rearview mirror. I turn back to see nothing, just my son and his wandering eyes.

He’s fine, right? I-I just haven’t slept enough. 

My phone hums again as I drive forward, not from the burner this time. I check the notification and freeze up. It's a text…from Julia’s little brother.

“Hi, I want us to talk at some point. I’m at the Jerren Cafe. How is Nova?” it reads. 

…Fuck. He hasn’t messaged me in months, why now? Matter of fact, It's been a bit since I talked to Julia’s family period for…obvious reasons. They offered to take care of Nova for a few weeks after he was born, to help me grieve, or something. I haven’t spoken to them since.

Her mom probably hates my guts now. No clue how her brother feels, or her dad since he’s not even alive. Maybe they’re right to hate me? Maybe I shouldn’t make them put up with me anymore, maybe-

“Cole, breathe.”

There it is again, in her voice.

God, I remember how nervous I was the first time I came over. Tried to learn Yoruba beforehand, but I still couldn’t understand much of her mom’s back-and-forths with her over dinner.

What was I gonna do? Oh, right, meet August.

Pretty sure I just passed the cafe he’s talking about. I find a good spot to park along the sidewalk, pull Nova out of his seat, and head there. 

I glance up at the fancy cursive sign that hangs above the small brick building squished against a larger office complex. The now-exposed sunlight reflects off it, but not enough to blind me. Before I can even tell if I'm at the right place, a grunt to my left catches my ear.

I flinch and swerve to the source of the noise. A familiar face in more ways than one stares back. The sudden adrenaline almost makes my eyes turn red, but I manage to compose myself.

August subtly waves at me as a wide umbrella shields him from the light. His uncanny similarity to Julia puts me at ease, albeit unintentionally. I immediately tense up again at the thought of talking to him.

He points to the dark metal chair across from him. I drag it forward and it groans against the concrete, making August cover his ears.

“Oh, uh…sorry about that.” I cringe at the sound too but sit nonetheless. Guilt creeps up my spine, but the damage has been done.

August relaxes and offers me one of his earbuds. My eyes follow the cord to his AAC device on the table between us. I'm immediately greeted with “Hello,” in a cheery, feminine voice once I accept his offer.

He looks down and slowly taps on the screen again, “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” I respond. How the fuck else am I supposed to respond to that?

August looks up and smiles at Nova. My son reaches out to him, almost falling out of my arm. I pull him back to me in an instant.

“What about you?”

“Better,” August says. He tenses and retracts when someone passes by, or if something’s too loud for his liking. I don’t blame him, Julia was like that too. Not his fault people don’t know how to shut the hell up. None of the other outside seats look occupied, so that's nice; safer too.

“How’s your mom?” I ask.

He opens a different function on his device, typing up a sentence instead of tapping prompts. “I feel better. We’re still getting flowers and visits from everyone,” A more robotic voice speaks for him.

My eyes widen. He has to be lying right? I haven’t gotten shit from anyone other than her family. 

“Flowers? Visitors?”

“Yes. I don’t know all of them. I think some worked with her or they were friends in college.”

Flowers? Old friends? All of these condolences, and I get nothing? Her fucking husband!?

My fist clenches, breathing louder, almost growling.

August’s face shifts to distress and he hastily types away.

“Didn’t mean to make you mad.” The sluggish, dragged-out speech puts him on edge even more.

My expression softens. I notice he’s scratching the sleeves of his hoodie more than usual while he waits for a response. 

“It's…It's fine.” I lean forward and pinch the bridge of my nose. 

“I don’t know, if, I feel, sad. I don’t know, if, I feel, angry,” He assures me.

I make sure no one’s watching us as a wall of silence splits us apart; nobody’s out of place or suspicious.

“I, miss, Julia.” He sniffles, the voice’s tone contrasting his words and face.

At first, I didn’t know how to respond; I knew her for so long, but they knew her for even longer. I-I can’t imagine going through even more grief.

“Me too…” I mentally scold myself the second it comes out, though, how else can I respond to that? What the hell can I do to make this better?

August takes a moment to search through his device, growing frustrated and ultimately going back to the text-to-speech. Our conversation’s sluggish, but I’d rather he take his time than feel pressured to talk quickly. 

“We are here for you, Cole. We can take care of Nova when you are busy,” He proposes.

“I’ve already got a babysitter. I owe you and Abeni for taking care of Nova, though.”

“I want to talk about something else. Mom asked me to ask you.” August’s lack of changing expression doesn't prepare me for what he'll say. He stares me dead on, even more than usual. It makes me uneasy, and I think it's on purpose. It chokes me like a dense, rising smoke.

He starts typing. The dread leaves me on the edge of my seat, waiting to see what’s got him so stern all of a sudden...

He pulls his hands from the screen, retracting into his sleeves and scratching the fuzzy fabric inside.

“Take your time, man,” I say. 

August hesitates but ultimately goes through with what he wants to say.

“Mom. She wants to have Julia’s ashes.” 

Each artificial word hits me like bullets, no, like a train. My fingers curl under the table, nails digging into my palm, almost breaking the skin.

Rage boils and bubbles under my skin, making me wanna scream and spill blood.

Is that why he’s here? So they can take what else I have left of her? What else do they want from me, huh!? How else do they wanna make my life an even worse hell? How-

“Cole? Are, you, mad?” August says. It breaks my train of thought; more like a vomit of thought, really.

“Hm?” I furrow my brows. Nova’s babbling at everything brings a bit of levity to the situation.

I look down to see blood dripping from my fist. I unclench and feel my fingernails sliding from under the newly cut flesh. The wound quickly heals, but August’s concern remains.

“Oh…don’t worry about it.” I sigh, loosening up.

More silence, so ever-present and looming that not even Nova’s presence could weaken it.

I try not to let irritation slip in again. They’re just thoughts, right? Nothing bad about it, no reason to feel guilty.

“Well?” He says. It punches me in the gut, but I know this hurts him too.

“I…I’ll have to think about it. You need a ride home?” I stand, aching for my anger and shame to just go away. God, give him an answer! What the hell's wrong with you?

“Mom will be here. I will let her know. Don’t sad.” August sniffles after typing, missing a word.

“It, uh...it's alright, thanks for talking to me, though. Anything else you wanna chat about?”

He looks away but ultimately shakes his head.

“‘Kay” I blurt and walk off. I hope I hid my anger well enough, can’t let him think this is his fault.

The afternoon’s already melting into evening. All the activity in the shops start winding down, so does the crowds and traffic.

I still feel that bizarre leeching guilt as I head back. It rots and eats away at any other thought, leaving only rage in its path. Am I selfish if I say no? Am I gullible if I say yes? The question fucks with my head, even as I stroll.

Nobody's out of the ordinary until I see a car parked in front of mine. It rumbles like the stomach of a hungry beast. The driver’s door opens with little fanfare.

I freeze up, clenching my fist. Move, dumbass! Don’t make a scene, just get Nova out of sight!

I step forward. The driver makes himself known with the sound of their car locking.

“Ah, nice to finally meet you, Cole. How’s the wife?” A cheery yet serpentine voice greets me. There's a hint of flamboyance but it feels begrudged, fake.

My nails dig into my skin once more. I can splash blood on his face if I build up enough of it. I can’t rough ‘em up too bad, though, I’ve got too many eyes on me to risk that.

I obviously don’t respond. He takes that as a sign to approach, revealing more of himself.

Open target, around a bunch of people, and pushing my buttons. He's good—phony as shit—but good.

His blonde hair almost blinds me as it reflects off the sinking sun. He’s pale, lanky, and wearing the most infuriatingly forced smile I’ve ever seen. He barely even looks old enough to be in college.

“Not great, huh? I heard,” He snickers.

God, I wanna fucking gut him—it’ll blend in great with that shitty red button-up he hides behind. What, was a disguise too much effort? At least the others tried to camouflage.

His expression sours as I refuse to talk.

Dark, gloved hands pull the sleeves of his black blazer as he sits on the car's hood. It creaks and groans like an animal begging for death.

“Well, what’d you do with her? Did you bury her, cremate her? No, wait, she’s dissolving in your tub?" His smile returns as he closes in on me with his hands behind his back.

You fucking cu-

I stop myself, sighing. Don’t give him what he wants, don’t.

My eyes dart back and forth across his body. Who knows, he could be strapped to the teeth under everything.

I seethe and my fingerstips sharpen just to be safe; one more step and he loses his eyes.

His eyes widen, “My, now? In front of all these people? These cameras? These eyes?” He spins and gets face-to-face with me, or, as close as he can get when his head only reaches up to my chest.

Nova coos in his sleep, catching his attention.

“...You’d kill me in front of your own flesh and blood?” He giggles, but the sound isn't as smooth as a genuine laugh. It crawls out of his throat rather than rolling off his tongue.

His gaze moves to other spots around us. He’s got no backup—just another way to make me paranoid. They all did this, trying to pry into my head, though they weren't nearly this bratty. He’ll wind up in a ditch like the rest of his colleagues, maybe missing an organ or two.

“Oh, you’ve probably done this song and dance before, right? Five missing spies a week after being deployed here? All before your son turns a year old? I'm impressed! Maybe I’ll be the sixth if you’re stupid enough.”

“You’re chattier than all of 'em combined,” I say.

“She said something like that too. You two are more alike than I thought!”

My eyes narrow, looking down at him. Oh, I know exactly how to piss him off.

“So you’re who she bumped into at work. You're Quinn, right?”

That day still gets to me, even at the smallest reminder. The yelling, crying, pleading. I almost had to leave so she could be safe—he came to her work and she nearly quit her fucking job. I made a promise, I-I shouldn't have dragged her into-

He laughs again with a hint of anger. The mask's slipping, he's mad.

“She was a little smarter, though. Went through all my shit too, apparently,” He hisses. The flamboyance slips a little, revealing a more lifeless but bitter tone.

Yeah, heard she kicked your ass, too.

Never felt more respect for her that day, even if it nearly gave me a heart attack once she told me. Never pried for more though—didn’t wanna add fuel to the fire.

“Certainly smarter than some fucker like you.”

Quinn lifts his hand to his chin, possibly to distract me from the scar around his throat, “You could say that, but she’s not here anymore. You’ve got no one to protect you-”

“I’m not who you’re after,” I growl.

Quinn doesn’t respond, choosing to glance at my son with a smirk.

Something immediately hits me. Get Nova back home.

Back. Away.

I do, quickly.

“You touch him and I’ll skin you alive,” I snarl. The sun beats down behind me, casting a harsh shadow that stretches to Quinn’s feet.

He replies with another shit-eating grin. He tugs on his glove and keeps staring at Nova. His pasty flesh makes him radiant in the light, looking more ghostly than he already is. 

Something also catches my eye, sparking a hope of escape. Two gold rings pierce the helix of each ear. Their polished, shining frames look tuggable enough, perfect.

“Go ahead, kill me now, see how that turns out for him.” he walks towards me, ignoring the harsh light assaulting his smug eyes. His shoes scrape against the concrete, fingers dragging along the roof of his car. 

He mocks her like she's nothing, like a name he can toss around to piss me off. His face, his fake laughter, his ugly fucking suit, it makes my blood boil. The others were easier to get a read on, but they weren't cowards.

He’s finally close to me, looking up. His eyes are like mine, dark brown and a little soulless.

“You’ve got two options: Get in the car, or deal with the firing squad waiting around us. You wouldn’t risk your son’s life, would you, Cole?"

Bullshit—little brat’s finally flying too close to the sun. I let my face soften, which lowers his guard’s down as he gestures to his vehicle.

He thinks he's won me over, just like the others.

I retain my expression when I lift my hand. My finger goes through the rings on his ear and I yank as hard as I can.

A squelch and a rip surge in my ears like music; so does his scream.

I throw the hunk of flesh into the street, then I book it to the car.

I fasten Nova in his seat as quickly as I can. I’m back in the driver’s seat in only a few seconds. The tires squeal as I drive off.

My whole body’s shaking, sweating buckets. Puddles form around the armpits of my shirt in only a few seconds.

Not too fast, not too fast. Just get home and think of a plan from there.

It's getting dark, too dark. Streetlights and signs flash before my eyes. I-I’m breathing faster, I can’t hear my heartbeat. What the fuck am I gonna do? I couldn’t kill him in public, but now he’ll report that I’m here. The spies will get worse, I won’t be able to go outside again, Julia…Julia, h-her family-

I instinctually tap on the brakes—I’m home. The recoil pauses my panic and welcomes a new goal: Keep Nova safe.

I take that to heart as I get out, grab him, and rush back inside, though not after tossing a few hundred dollars on Anna’s porch. She might never see me again after today.

Once we’re inside, I immediately spin around and lock the door. Every curtain's closed, there’s no sign of a break-in, and best of all, Nova's ok.

I certainly look calm as I tend to him through the night, but in reality, countless plans and what-if’s strangle me.

Julia’s family can’t be left in the dust, but I can’t risk them getting involved, same with Anna. They’ll call the cops if Nova and I just disappear, though, which means more people on my ass. H-How am I gonna pack everything by morning? Where can I go now? How can Nova have a normal childhood after all this?

I should’ve been smarter, I should’ve moved out before it was too late-

Nova coos in my arms and the cacophony that buzzes in my brain falls silent. I’ve just been on…I dunno, autopilot? Going through the motions? Now I’m rocking him to sleep on the couch.

His tiny hand paws at my fingers, melting my heart.

My eyes begin to shine a brilliant red, yet he doesn’t react, continuing to doze off. Feelings of surrender are drowned out by compassion, killing off my worries like skittering bugs.

H-He deserves better. I need to be better, calmer, for him. I just want him to be ok…I just want him to grow up like a normal kid, make some friends, not have to worry about any of this bullshit.

I-I just wanna be a good dad.

My sniffle is followed by a deep breath. I’ll worry about my own shit later. Right now, I just need to be a good dad.

I stand up, keeping my eyes on my son. I peruse the mess of toys that are scattered across the floor and find a book. It's just a standard children’s one, though, Nova might be too young for that.

Eh, fuck it, I need to expose him to new stuff as he gets older. My eyes perfectly illuminate the words. Nova stirs and opens his own.

My mind spirals into panic for a split second, but my son just stares like he usually does with no fear in his big eyes I chuckle and continue reading.

Being around him feels…safe. It’s not as strong as Julia’s presence, but it's enough to keep me relaxed.

He already seems ok with my eyes, so I doubt it’ll scare him when he’s older. He’s never seen me mutate before and that’s definitely a hard sell to a baby. Eh, I’ll worry about that when it comes up. Maybe I could show tiny bits of my powers as he gets older?

I don’t even reach the last page before Nova falls asleep, which gives me a moment to admire him. My body slumps and loosens, seeing his little chest rise and fall, seeing his fingers curl and legs fidget.

I check my phone; shit, already past midnight. I get off the couch and kiss Nova on the forehead before gently placing him in his cradle.

Now that my mind’s a little clearer, I think I’ve got a new plan:

I’ll drop off half of Julia’s ashes to August and Abeni, and tell them I’m getting evicted, or whatever excuse I need so they can stop worrying. I…don’t know what I’m gonna do for Anna, I’m sure I left enough money for her to stay afloat, or at least to get away from whatever douchebag she’s living with.

I’ll pack up as much as I can, sell what organs I've got left in the fridge, and go somewhere far away from all this. I’ll still be in contact with Julia’s family, just…not as consistently, so not much'll change in that department.

Most, and best of all, Nova will be safe. He’ll have a normal life, in a normal home, with a hopefully normal enough dad.

“I’ve got this, I’ve got this…” I mumble and sit on the edge of my bed. I hunch over, pondering what I should pack or leave as I stare at my son’s cradle.

We’ll be ok…We’ll be-

Thud.

I hear, then see something on the other side of the bed. I barely turn around before something pierces my neck.

A syringe containing some greenish-yellow liquid is instantly pumped into me. I can’t even mutate and defend myself as I sink into the mattress.

I feel cold, no, hot, no…what the fuck’s happening!?

My body twitches and spasms. Blood tints my sight as something trickles from my nose. I-I try to make out who’s looking above me.

Blue eyes stare back, with a dirty blonde ponytail dangling above me.

“An…Anna?”

She sighs. Her whole demeanor's off, she even looks a little different.

“I…knew…I-I-” I spurt before she hops off the bed.

“Please just…just don’t make this difficult for me,” She says, her voice way more mature than that of the newly graduated twenty-something I thought she was.

She pulls a walkie-talkie out of the black trenchcoat that camouflages her with the room.

“Mhm, the venom’s working.”

She’s met with garbling chatter I can’t hear from here.

“I…I don’t know, just call them in. I expect my payment tomorrow.” Every word is hesitant.

“P…Plea…Don’t…” I plead, choking on my blood. My body won’t surrender, yet it refuses to move.

“I know, I know this hurts. I just hope this venom puts you out of your misery.” She grumbles.

Each minute feels like an eternity as I stay limp. I can’t see my son, I-I can’t reach for him!

Minutes go like hours, but the sudden bang at the door makes time resume its regular pace. Wood shatters and a bunch of men in combat gear spill into the bedroom. Too many of them aim at me with assault rifles. The lasers at the bottom blind me, not that I can see their faces in the first place.

I hear a smoother, quieter set of steps, then a voice that makes me scream.

“You’re quicker than I thought. I was starting to like Houston,” Quinn says in a dead tone.

My screaming dims when I hear Nova crying. He’s…He’s being picked up. A soldier’s carrying him…I…I…

“Well? Shoot him,” Quinn orders before Anna, or whatever her actual name is, elbows him.

“No, The Head wants him alive and we can’t risk him waking up during transport. I’ll keep a squadron with me and we’ll keep an eye on him. You and the rest of the team just grab the kid and get out. We'll transport them separately,” She says.

Every sound fades into incoherent muffling. I still see everyone leaving the room.

Nova’s screams for help grow distant and…and I can’t do anything about it.

No…No! M-My…My son! My…

My…

Chapter Text

2002

Skrt. The screeching halt of tires snapped Julia out of her daze. Faint rumbling and muffled groans brought comfort to her weary brain. The sunlight, however, felt like a rain of hellfire rather than a heavenly embrace. A basket of laundry weighed on her lap, providing a soothing pressure. 

“Alright, looks empty from here, could be wrong though.” Mia peered through the window and into the laundromat where they were parked.

“I-I should be good. You’ve got work.” Julia showed a sliver of her taser before sliding it back in. 

Mia frowned, the split second of unease making Julia tense up. The rising anxiety was released when the car unlocked with a click.

“Just…be safe, ok?”

Julia rolled her eyes as she exited, “You already babysit adults all day, I don’t need to be one of them.”

She stood on the sidewalk as their rickety vehicle zoomed off, leaving her to her own devices. With a quick look around, she spotted only one cramped car in the parking lot. No worry grew, since it looked like a corpse of mechanics and black paint. Towels and blankets shut out any curious eyes from its interior.

***

The laundromat was stout, old, and…safe. Julia relished in the soft lights and rumbling washers and dryers. Her fists and breathing steadied.

Two sets of chairs split the room down the middle, further separating the walls of machinery.

Her boots squeaked on the shiny brown tiles, dampening the stimulating bliss of the room. The sound of her footsteps caught someone’s attention at the very end of the left seating. Julia froze up, averting her gaze.

A man in ripped, baggy clothes rang a bell in her head, but she still kept her distance. She ached for something, anything, to relieve her discomfort . 

He looked away from her general direction, resisting the urge to tap his foot against the floor.

The laundromat's comforting aura turned against Julia like a lullaby into a scream. The rumbling of old, soapy machinery, the buzz of the lights, and the indescribable stench instilled an instinct to escape, to rush out as soon as she could.

Every outside sound and sensation skittered across her flesh, slithering through her ears, searing into her eyes.

Then, in the corner of her vision, a red glow reflected off a washer’s polished metal.

She turned left and the man instantly averted his eyes. The crimson light had no source, but the flash of his hooded face sparked recognition.

The screaming, crawling sensations simmered down, reverting to their more comforting context.

She let out an amalgamation of a gasp and a deep breath, letting the stress that filled her lungs fizzle out into nothingness.

“You…helped me out a few weeks ago, right?” She muttered.

The man barely turned his head, thumping his foot quicker than ever before. His fingers curled into a fist out of her line of sight.

“M-Mhm.”

“Thanks for…that. I still owe you.”

“You don’t owe me shit. Don’t worry about it.” The man yawned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Julia frowned, scooting closer chair by chair. 

He sighed, hoping that would be a good enough indicator to back off. She continued her approach with no fear in her curious eyes.

His glances revealed hesitance bit by bit, making her raise a brow.

“I never got your name,” She said, stopping with two chairs between them. Her gentle inflection lowered his guard, even if only by a small margin.

His dark brown eyes greeted hers with a partial glare. He expected some, any sort of fear or sinister motives in her gaze but found nothing of the sort. 

Another short sigh from the man broke their momentary staredown.

“...Cole.”

She smirked, then held out her hand.

“Nice, I’m Julia.”

His slow eyes traveled from her pale palm, up her sleeve, and to her glasses.

He put his hand in hers and slowly shook it before retracting. She snickered at such a large figure being so quiet and embarrassed.

“I-Uh, I’m sorry if I scared you earlier. It's usually pretty quiet here.”

“Oh, it's fine! That’s why I came.”

Her phrasing straightened his posture, arms tensing.

“Why’s that?” He said with a subtle hiss in his throat.

“It's…hard to get anything done with so many eyes on you. Most places are just too busy for me,” She explained, taken aback by the sudden hostility.

“Huh, same.”

“Not a huge fan of crowds, either?”

“...You could say that,” Cole mumbled.

“Was that your car out there?” Julia’s shift of topic slapped him awake.

“Y-Yeah?” He braced for whatever insult might come his way.

“Cool, what kind?”

“I-I dunno. Some model from the eighties, I think?”

“Nice! Looks…cozy?” She said, then nervously laughed to veil her regret.

Cole sighed in relief, expecting a harsher jab.

The prolonged silence indicated the conversation’s sudden death. Julia took that as a sign to rummage through her bag and pull out a textbook.

Cole’s eyes widened as he noted its sheer size and thickness—at least eight hundred pages. His awe grew stronger knowing most of its concepts made no sense to him.

“What, uh…whatcha reading?” A meek whisper skittered off his tongue.

“Oh, it's just for school, might as well be light reading,” she joked, though Cole looked even more surprised.

“What do you do for college?”

“Mostly physics, what about you?” She replied.

“Me? I just uh…live nearby. Not sure what I’d even do in college if I could afford it.”

“I get it, plenty of pros and cons. I probably would’ve never chosen physics if it wasn’t already an obsession of mine.”

“Huh…cool. What got you into it?” Cole asked, immediately regretting it as Julia lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Funny you should ask!” She said, throwing her book in her bag.

***

Minutes of her ramblings ascended into a full hour. Cole, despite that, visibly softened with each new bit of information she dumped into his head. He nodded along, maybe with a few “Mhm.”s and “Uh-huh.”s despite most of it making no sense to him.

Julia slowed down when she noticed his lack of foot tapping or tensing at every odd-worded phrase.

“S-Sorry, I should stop-”

“You’re not botherin’ me, keep going.”

She continued to do so as they shoved their respective armfuls of laundry into the dryers. 

“...I even got to graduate high school early!”

“You can do that?” Cole said with a raised brow.

“Mhm! Took a lot of effort, though, pretty sure they just wanted me out of their hair.”

“I get it, they can’t handle a student being smarter than them.”

Julia snickered, deflecting the compliment by shifting to a separate topic.

“What about you?”

“Oh, I uh…dropped out,” He replied, fumbling for an answer as they sat down once more.

“Really? You get this stuff better than some of my classmates.” She chuckled

“It's ‘cause you're passionate about it, makes it interesting to think about. Not all that fascinating when it's coming from some old guy who’s talked about it a million times.”

She resisted the urge to cringe as her eyes wandered to everything but his own. Fortunately, no trace of offense seemed to appear on his face.

“T-Thanks…People don’t usually pay attention for this long, let alone listen in the first place. What’re you passionate about?” She yet again dodged his praises, masking her embarrassment with another chuckle.

“I dunno, surgery stuff, I guess? I found some textbooks in a trashcan last week, helps me clear my thoughts.” He explained, shifting his shirt to hide the scar on his sternum.

“Oh, cool. My roommate’s actually a nurse, she might have some old stuff from nursing school I can borrow!”

“You don’t gotta do that, it's just something I read for fun.”

“It's fine, she hasn’t touched any of those books in ages. Plus, it’d be nice to have more to read once you’ve finished yours, right? I-I still have to pay you back, so what do you say?”

Cole leaned forward with a hand on his chin and mouth, contemplation brewing behind his eyes. It made him notice the dryers no longer rumbled, having turned off hours ago.

“...Fine, but you’re not paying me back, you never owed me anything in the first place.”

She sighed but nodded nonetheless.

A sudden, droning car honk made them flinch, even as the sturdy walls muffled it.

She grumbled while preparing to leave, even as the noise subsided.

“That’s my ride. I should be here again next Saturday, soooo maybe I can give you them around that time?”

“I-I uh, sounds good.” He said, tapping his foot again.

“...Cool! Nice meeting you, Cole!”

“N-Nice meeting-”

The words escaped him too slowly as she rushed out to the car. A massive sigh left his lungs with an indescribable swirl of emotions. Excitement, embarrassment, and nervousness, all escaped his throat in a single puff. His rising worries spawned from all three, rather than the usual paranoia.

***

Julia slouched in the passenger’s seat, smirking with joy yet deflated with fatigue. The only thing keeping her sitting straight was the subtle sting of pain in her elbows and knees.

“How’d it go?” Mia questioned right before the car roared to life.

“Good! Guess who I met there?”

Her friend’s face shifted to disappointment and concern.

“Julia…”

“Relax, it was just the guy who helped me out. He’s actually pretty nice!”

“That guy? What makes you think he’s actually like that?”

“...Why do you ask?”

“He doesn’t exactly scream ‘trustworthy’, you sure he was being genuine?”

“I mean, yeah, pretty much. He listened to me talk about physics! Who else does that?” Julia said with a hint of giddiness in her voice.

“Me, I guess? Just be more cautious next time, ok?” Mia sighed with an obvious sleep-deprived fatigue.

Julia’s expression died out and she turned to her window, resisting the spark of frustration that made her fidget with her hand. The drive back only made the lively memory seem all the more distant, floating from her grasp.

***

2018

…

. . .

.  .  .

“NOVA!” I scream, yanking myself out of bed. The blankets and sheets tear in my grip, flinging to the other side of the room.

I slip, tossing myself to Nova’s cradle. I try to catch my footing but my skull hits the frame before I can even think straight.

A new surge of pain gets ahold of me, tightening every muscle. I stumble back against the bed, cushioned by the sides of the mattress. The severity doesn’t matter, neither does the stream of blood from my forehead.

Pain, hurt—such an empty feeling. Something else eats away at me, something that burns and boils until ashes are all that's left.

Another hoarse scream crawls up my lungs. It barely echoes among the house, leaving no trace in its years of use.

The lifeless photos stare me down like the filth I am, that I’ve always been. That’s all I am, a thing that corrodes everything it touches.

I drag myself back to his cradle, ashamed of the bloody dent I left in its wood. My fingers gently wrap around one of the bars as my legs curl up.

My gaze darts up to the bed itself. H-He has to be there. This has to be a dream. He has to be ok.

Nothing.

Nothing resembling his warmth remains, snuffed out, gutted.

The bubbling, scorching sensation grows stronger, spreading from limb to limb like wildfire.

It spills from my eyes, flowing down scarred, bloodstained cheeks. First a trickle, then a river of pure anguish.

I want to gasp, but a wail takes its place. Stuttering breaths come and go in its wake.

My nails dig into the wood and its shards stab the tender flesh underneath. I can only stare at the light that spills through the window above, praying to whatever entity can give him back. 

P-Please, God, Lord, whatever the fuck you are, whatever’s listening, just…just give him back, give my boy back…

Nothing responds. Just the silence of a cold, dead home. Gone are the familiar smiles, the comforting laughter…

I cling to the only corpse of joy that remains in this fucking house. It rots and fills the room with its stench of grief.

“N-Nova…” I sob, choking on dried blood, snot, and tears.

I don’t know how long it lasts. Thirty minutes, three hours, it doesn’t matter. The sunlight remains stagnant, still, like some false hope. I don’t need it, I don’t deserve it.

So many old thoughts and memories flood my head, wallowing and laughing at my suffering.

“A weapon. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“You do not think, you do not protest, you obey.”

“A perfect child, as it should be.”

Those, and so many others swirl into a maelstrom of agony, talking over each other, bickering .

My hands slip from the cradle, choosing to grip the sides of my head. 

Just…Just die already! Just-

“Cole, breathe.”

The whole world freezes before my eyes. 

“What’s the fucking point anymore!?” I scream as I shut my eyes.

“Breathe,” She says again, echoing rather than repeating. Each repetition gets louder, drowning out the horde of unwanted recollections.

Just as I suck in more air through my teeth, something grazes past my shoulder.

My heart rate spikes. I waste my breath to scream and thrust my arm towards the disturbance. 

The sensation of mutating barely hits me— the splatter of warm blood does .

I pry open my gaze to see my hand through someone’s stomach. The hardened, sharp flesh tore through layers of a bulletproof vest and coarse clothes.

My eyes dart up to my target. A black cloth covers their mouth, while night vision goggles and a helmet veil the rest.

Blood pools around the face covering, followed by a violent, crunchy cough.

Something about that god-awful fucking sound makes the rage reach a boiling point. It begs to burst out of my skin and set everything alight.

My eyes widen and I shove the assailant to the bed with my arm still through their torso.

“You’re still alive,” I snarl, inches from their face.

“P-Please!” They gargle, trying to flail.

I turn my forearm, churning my fingers through their exposed guts. A scream tries to reach its climax, but a choked sob interrupts it.

“You’re gonna tell me where he is, fucking rat.”

“N…Next…D-Door…” They spasm and lift their arm in the direction of Anna’s house.

I already know he’s not there, but I know it can lead me to him.

I continue to stare them down with a crimson glow. The edges of my mouth curve into a smile as I watch them writhe and attempt to flee. Their stomach squelches and they retract each time my hand brushes against their guts. God, it's titillating.

A whole minute passes before they go pale—I was getting bored with them anyway.

My fingers fuse and curve like a blade. The assassin feels it mutilate their intestines through the bed with what little consciousness they have left.

I tear through the side of their torso, silencing them. I shove myself off the mattress and, well, disfigured corpse.

The contorting flesh trails up my arms. Red veins accompany the thickening, muscular layers underneath. Something else grows in its wake, parting my skin to reveal their glorious horror.

Eyes.

***

No sunlight pierces the curtained windows of a seemingly empty home. The chirp of birds, the rustle of leaves, the sound of footsteps—none are strong enough to make their presence known to the occupants.

A pair of goggle-covered eyes peek through the shades. They dart across the fake grass and harmless joggers that pass the front porch. Paranoia arises, more to keep them focused than afraid.

They pull away, gaze shifting to their assault rifle.

A dozen other assassins wait in the house, most stationed near the windows. The clacking of a keyboard echoes near the empty fireplace while whispers trace to the kitchen.

“E-Two through five. Any disturbances?” the commanding, deep voice of E-One asks through the devices strapped to their shoulders.

“Negative.”

“E-Six, bugs?”

“All ready and functioning. EXP-25 is still dormant. No other anomalies in the area,” He says, checking the bulky device in their lap.

“Good. You, agent, um…whatever you are, any disturbances from the back?” E-One trails off, turning to a familiar face in the kitchen.

“Nothing here… yet,” Anna mumbles, tapping her finger against the smooth granite counter. Her eyes pierce through the windows in front of the sink. Pale fingers barely pull the blinds apart for better vision. She holds her breath with each moving object whether it be a rolling baseball or swaying bushes.

“When’s the transport even coming? I said we’d keep an eye on him, not babysit him. We should’ve been out of Houston hours ago.”

“We’ll take him to Phoenix once Q67 confirms the child’s out of the state.”

“…If we’re alive to hear from him and haven’t run out of venom. We should take our chances and put him in the van before he loses it.”

“Denied.”

“...Are you fucking-”

“ Denied. You’re out of your mind if you think defying the Head’s orders leads to anything but death. Stick to your directive and get it together before you get all of us in deep shit, understand?”

Anna’s demeanor barely shifts with an unamused expression in her eyes. She lets out another sigh and turns, resisting her snickering.

The others avert their gaze just as a grumbling E-One turns back to them

“...Now, E-Seven, any anomalies from inside the house?” They finish.

“...It's waking up,” They respond, almost in sync with E-Six.

The whole squadron’s hearts sink.

“Administer venom,” E-One mutters.

“It's off the bed, next to the cradle. It's…crying, sir.”

“Administer the venom, now.”

“...Affirmative,” E-Seven says before exiting the closet. E-Six clenches his fists as he stares at the bedroom camera.

An assassin, crouching and silent, creeps up to the wailing creature. Its choking sobs dim for a moment, pausing their pursuit.

“What’s the fucking point anymore!?” It yells.

E-Six resists the urge to sympathize, or worse, humanize it despite his aching heart.

E-Seven reveals a syringe with the required venom in their gloved hand. They stand, ready to attack— but their elbow brushes against its back.

E-Six’s gaze widens as he watches the unfurling carnage. The rest of the squadron freezes in horror at the sound of squelching flesh and desperate screams.

Anna immediately whips out a pistol from her trenchcoat, ducking to the cabinets below.

“E-Seven, do you read?” E-One whispers.

“E-Seven, do you read?”

…

. . .

.  .  .

“L̷̲̼̼͂̚o̵̻̤̐u̸̦̤͇͌̓͝d̶̟̤̅͗͊ ̶̛͇͋̒ã̴͔͔̟̊̃ń̷͈̀ď̷̪ ̶̦̬̈́̈́c̵̟͌̿ļ̶͔̾̅ẽ̷͓̗̰̅̚ą̸͍͋̐ŕ̶͚̪̝.̸̦̩̭̕”

Screeching static follows the unfamiliar voice. Everyone but E-six switches to a separate frequency.

E-One ducks with Anna, gesturing for the rest of the squadron to prepare their defense.

E-Six remains petrified, continuing to stare at the mutilated corpse on the bed as the others scurry to their positions.

The sudden stampede of combat boots and cocking guns falls into silence once everyone is in place.

Everyone but E-Six. 

A nearby squadmate grunts at him with desperate eyes. E-six’s head slowly cranes away from the monitor. A shaky breath slithers off his tongue before he speaks.

“It…It’s gone-”

Crack.

The sound subtly echoes from the fireplace, where they aim their rifles. Green lasers pierce the dark with no effort.

E-Six holds his breath as he turns to the maw of soot and shadow.

Nothing stares back, his countless prayers are answered…

For a moment.

A crunch interrupts his incoherent train of thought, then another, and another. Each one worms into his ears with every moment that passes. His legs and hands quiver, yet refuse to move. 

Three seconds, only three seconds of dread come to a close as something stares back from the dark.

Veins—eyes.

E-Six gasps. Something whips around his head and tightens. Blood drips, soaking the groaning wood below. Other appendages reach for the pouches on his belt.

The others fire with caution. Bullets zip past the mass of spindly sinew and exposed bones. Some hit, most don’t. Bits of tissue and blood coat the fireplace.

E-Six makes a choking sob as something digs through his helmet. One hand pries at the claw enrapturing his skull, the other scrambling for a combat knife. Sharp fingers brush against his scalp. their source chuckles, then yanks its prey back. E-Six finally lets out an anguished scream.

“Fuck! F-”

Another crunch. His head slams against the rough, weathered bricks. Blood drips from his broken nose. He falls limp. The tendrils instantly yank his body upwards.

One assassin extends a hand while another aims, only to be lowered by a fellow squadmate.

E-Six’s body drops as soon as he’s picked up—a puddle of blood pools from his neck.

Another hand lifts to pull his corpse but the others shake their heads.

No recovery time is given as another thud hits the ceiling.

They all aim at the expanding crack. Layers of dust rain down from its general area.

“...The attic, check the attic,” Anna whispers through her earpiece

“Negative, everyone hold your ground.”

“Are you insane? We’re sitting ducks!” She hisses.

E-One shakes his head and flashes a syringe plunger on their belt. The flange barely peeks from the bulky pouch.

“They’ll keep it busy if it’s even got the guts to attack,” He whispers with a hand covering his comms.

Anna’s expression softens into a subtle glare. Her attention is drawn elsewhere when another thud hits the ceiling. A roaring crash follows the rumbling, prompting the squadron to back up.

Bits of stone and wood hit the floor like hail while larger chunks dangle from the wound’s edges. 

She stands further to see what fell through, and what the other assassins were quietly gawking at.

A familiar severed head rolls towards its body in the fireplace. It stops at the feet of a squadmate.

He kneels while the others aim wherever they can be ambushed. His eyes widen behind his bulky night vision goggles once the stump is in view.

A flat, metallic surface pokes out through the windpipe. Mushy, tender flesh surrounds it under a layer of pale skin. Other nerves and blood vessels dangle out.

Moments pass like an eternity as they stare at the severed head, awaiting the ambush of whatever dropped it.

“E-Four, remove the foreign object,” E-One breaks the silence, peering from the side of the counter they hide behind with Anna in tow. She frowns at the command but ultimately keeps her peace.

“Sir, it could be anything-”

“Remove it.”

E-Four holds his breath and kneels. His fingers slide under the windpipe’s pale, elastic surface with a squelch.

Only three fit through, enough to curl and pull the object out. A slight tilt makes it bulge and tear through its confines, pushing out any meat in its way. 

Anna flinches and ducks the second more is revealed.

A clink follows everyone’s breakneck reactions. E-Four flings the object.

Ringing ears and a flash of light plague everyone in the room, all except for Anna and E-One. 

The affected squadron resists their groans and tries to straighten, to hide any hint of defeat.

One keeps their rifle aimed at the hole in the ceiling, now a dark blot among their blurry vision. 

As the dust settles, as they prepare for ambush once more, a light appears. It overpowers any lasers pointed at it, lurking, spiraling, snapping from above.

One assassin struggles with their shivering grip. Slick sweat coats the flesh under their gear, making it stick and peel with every subtle fidget.

Then something bumps against the barrel.

It coils around the handguard. A bullet fires just as it yanks the rifle. The light descends, then swings.

Their eyes widen before they can blink. The butt of their gun flashes before th-

Wham.

The polished metal rips through their skull, sending bits of bones, teeth, and meat against the floor. Their helmet flings with it and lands at the feet of the remaining assassins. The body thuds, their lower jaw still intact.

Blood spurts from the creature’s bullet wound, pushing the fragments out of its sealing skin.

The squadron aims. It responds with a leap. Fingers hook into the ceiling, causing a cascade of dust and powdery stone.

EXP-25 lunges as bullets rip through its body. It lands on, pins, and digs its maw into an assassin’s neck.

Sharp teeth stab past the cloth, extending out of its gums. Its prey screams and knees its crotch. A subtle wince convinces the left squadmate to fire.

It grabs its target by the shoulders. Bullets rip through flesh—but not of the creature’s.

Blood trickles down the back of a fellow assassin, making their comrade’s eyes widen. The corpse’s arms and legs twitch yet dangle.

Ripping velcro makes the creature’s head snap backward. Their heaving freezes at the glint of a needle.

One arm cracks, jutting in the opposite direction. It’s contorting hand darts forward like a blade. A hand falls with the syringe in a flash.

The assassin screams, gripping the stump and backing into the wall.

The last of the creature’s prey tries to steady their aim, yet a bulging, thumping sound overwhelms their every thought. Their lungs only let out stuttering breaths and shallow gasps. 

EXP-25 stands and slowly approaches them with silent footsteps. Its fists, then arms loosen, both bulging with contorting muscles.

It stares, unhinged jaw agape. Ripped skin stretches at the corners of its mouth.

The assassin aims at its head. They squeeze the trigger and hope, pray-

Click.

Its black eyes grow wide, exposing rings of red light.

They yank the magazine out, preparing to reload when-

A sharp sting hits their calf. 

Their eyes dart to find claws digging into the bone.

EXP-25 yanks them off their feet before they can even scream. Their head slides against the sturdy ceiling, then splats on the splintering wood floor.

Blood pools below them but a groan dims its victory. Their wheezing screams accompany their sucked-in, shattered chest.

EXP-25 opens its mouth even wider, exposing blood-stained teeth. It screams, then smashes them against the front door with all its might.

A burst of cloth, metal, flesh, and bones paints the wall and windows with red and pink. Sharpened and cracked slivers of their cervical vertebrae stick out from the pulp of the neck. The rest of their mangled body drags to the floor, leaving bits of gray matter in its already bloody wake.

EXP-25 drops what was left of them and turns to the kitchen.

Anna and E-One hold their breaths as they hide behind the counter.

“Ẅ̵̝̘ȟ̵̙̾ê̴̞̑…̸̲̭̓Ẅ̸̢̖́͑h̶̛̺̏-̴̧͍̈́͝W̸͚͕̏̍h̸̫̫̉́e̷̙̓͊r̴̬͈͌͝ẹ̴͘͘ ̸͇̍į̶̾̔s̴̼͎̔͠...̴̯͆̉h̵̫̼̿-̶̬̄̓h̵̹̐ͅê̵̩̭̏?̷̯͒” A gagging, rumbling voice growls. The lack of a response causes it to let out a choking, heaving noise. Anna lifts a brow, unable to tell if it was crying or laughing.

Footsteps follow, making her heart spike in pace.

She gestures to the back door, not too far from the sink. The backyard awaits beyond it. 

Despite nodding, E-One holsters their pistol in exchange for a flashbang and a syringe of snake venom.

Anna subtly shakes her head with wide eyes.

A thud follows the yank of a pin, then a hoarse grunt and a shattering window. The flashbang goes off, albeit outside the house. E-One sucks a deep breath through their teeth and unholsters their pistol.

They stand and open fire. Anna reaches for them but is quickly rejected.

“Get to Q67 and get the kid out of Houston!” They yell, sliding over the counter.

Anna aims at EXP-25 as E-One dashes to it. The crunch of an arm follows their speedy attempt, making her avert her eyes.

She bolts out the back door without a second thought while more carnage ensues.

Her eyes zoom back and forth—a gate leads back to the street, almost hidden from her line of sight.

She runs left, then pulls the intricate handle down—it replies with a clank.

“Come on, rusty piece of shit!” She groans and begins kicking it. Wood fragments and splinters fly across the nearby grass as her boot slams into its old frame.

Just as its hinges fling open, the kitchen window shatters. 

EXP-25 shrieks at the sight of her, its limbs contorting to make it walk on all fours. Its torso bends, making its ribs bulge from the top.

Its upside-down head twists to the correct angle and charges at her. Its spine protrudes from under its flesh, its skin barely shielding it.

She ducks. The stench of iron hits her face as it lunges above.

Now in her way, it leaps again. She slams the gate yet its arms and head tear through the wood like paper.

It snarls and bites at her, just out of reach.

Anna chuckles and steps on its head to boost her over the gate. She rolls, then books it for the black vehicle in front of her so-called house.

A leap of faith lands her into the car via the opened passenger window. She whips out a key from her coat and rams it into the ignition, though not after strapping on a seatbelt.

The engine stutters and moans, matching the…unsavory interior.

“Dammit, Quinn!” Her widening eyes come with a grunt.

The engine’s whisper turns into a roar, drowning out the beast’s scream as it dislodges itself.

Anna floors the acceleration just as a violent thud hits the roof.

A pair of claws slam against the windshield. Branching cracks spread, leaving only a sliver of undamaged glass.

The car’s ascending speed dies out with a sudden screech of the tires. Her foot smashes down on the brakes, hurling EXP-25 outward. Anna’s seatbelt yanks her back just before her skull hits the steering wheel.

The creature’s mangled body bounces, then slides against the concrete. The stone nicks and scrapes its flesh as a trail of blood follows in its wake.

It pools under the monster’s bulky, stretched, and broken frame. Bits of bones protrude from its elbows and knees while the light fades from its dark gaze.

Anna gasps and reels back into her seat. A dense ringing screams in her ears while a sharp pain expands across her forehead.

She pants, yet pushes forward. Her gentle foot against the acceleration makes the car speed along. EXP-25 was but a blob of unrecognizable flesh in her way.

No alleviation arrives as she runs it over, no warm wave of satisfaction as tires crunch flesh.

The drive ahead is…quiet despite the car’s cacophony of rumbles and groans. Her body loosens at the hearing of something, anything other than the memories of the gruesome skirmish and the night before.

Despite that, her bruised hands tighten on the steering wheel, making the cheap leather squeak. She shakes her head to rid herself of Col…EXP-25’s distorted face and voice.

Anna’s jaw clenches at the memory of its pleading, crying, all while choking on its own blood as its child screams.

Her blank stare shifts to the road ahead, attempting to cleanse her mind with careful focus. Quiet neighborhoods melt into noisy streets, eventually turning into dead, silent outskirts.

The final stretch to her destination is interrupted by the radio. It vomits garbling chatter, which slowly grows more coherent.

“You—get back there and retrieve its body. I’m done doing your job for you.” A familiar voice demands, his tone lacking any warmth or eccentricities.

“So you saw what happened? Figured you wouldn’t do shit.” She wipes her eyes with blood-speckled sleeves.

“You let that fucking coward get out?”

“It spotted us before we could put it to sleep again. Would’ve been nice to know bullets don’t do shit against hi…it. Besides, we already have the kid.”

“In the months you were under us, you didn’t have a plan besides ‘keep an eye on it’?”

“Oh, what’d you expect me to do, put it on a leash?”

Quinn responds with silence, making Anna chuckle.

“...Just get to the hospital. I’ll be waiting in the Administrator’s office,” He hisses under his breath and cuts off his transmission.

Anna quiets to a snicker as she parks in the back of an abandoned hospital. Its filthy gray walls and covered windows barely stand out among the sparse, short buildings. The sea of trees on the flat land further drowns them. She wastes no time bolting past the armored vans and barely-hinged door.

Portions of the late afternoon’s light spill into the dark ahead. The stench of old carpet stains the already dusty air, making every breath feel like a risk of life or death.

One turn to the left hall results in multiple green lasers blinding her. She immediately raises her hands with wide eyes.

“You, administrator’s office now. Q67’s waiting,” A commander not dissimilar to a now-mauled E-One says.

The dozens of accompanying assassins lower their rifles and rush past her to tend to the car.

“Have fun repairing that hunk of trash,” Anna smirks as she brushes past the hall’s tarnished doorframe.

The halls repeat themselves—endless locked doors, stray wheelchairs, and towering boxes all reeking of age and dried blood. Creaking floodlights and flickering bulbs serve as her sole guide. Groups of assassins pass her, some bumping against her arm and cursing under their breath. Few of their words dig deep enough to catch her eye, in one ear and out the other. 

She passes by an operating room with no doors, barricaded with chairs. The flash of a cradle, lights, and wires immediately kills her mood. She filters out the beep of a heart monitor with whatever unrelated thoughts she can form.

Despite Quinn’s vague instructions, she wouldn’t need them, for her trek ends at the sight of his scowling in an open office.

A device akin to E-Six’s vaguely illuminates the dim room from the side of the dusty desk.

“...What?” Anna lifts a brow.

Quinn’s eyes, stuck in a mix of fury and emptiness, shift to the device’s monitor. She tilts her head to see a figure on the grainy screen.

Their dark red mask immediately catches her eye, its general shape resembling a motorcycle helmet. Sleek, chromatic metal stares back rather than a visor.

“Ohhh, my bad.” She shrugs and sits opposite Quinn. 

He clears his throat and smiles, hands barely grazing the desk’s grimy surface. 

“We…apologize for the inconvenience, sir. She’s rather new to B.E.D.’s practices but, I assure you the child is safe.” He says, mimicking the Head’s straight posture and clasped hands. She can’t help but giggle at the bandages on Quinn’s ear.

His superior’s fingers curl, the withered flesh trailing up the bony forearms tucked into his dark red suit.

The silence that follows his subtle movements makes Quinn tense. Anna furrows her brows.

“...Of course he’s not dead, someone like her couldn’t have killed him in her wildest dreams,” He says with a voice buried under deep, robotic filters.

Anna furrows her brow while leaning into her chair.

“What, because I’m new? How long did it take for you to track this guy again?”

“Only because you couldn’t get off your ass an-” Quinn barks only to rescind when the Head lifts his fingers.

“Quinn, settle.”

He does so with faint fear in his eyes.

“Why’s this still my problem? I’ll be out by tomorrow anyway.”

“That is no longer the case, Anita. Your stay at B.E.D. has been extended after careful consideration,” The Head replies, uttering her name too casually for her liking.

Her eyes dart to the blank surface of his helmet as her fists clench. 

“What was that?”

“We have…several reasons to keep you. Your incompetent, inconsistent reports and observations leave much to be desired, and we believe you have intentions that misalign with our own. We can’t have someone like you running around with that knowledge, can we, Quinn? Not when there’s so much to improve?”

“No, sir.” 

“...If we're following your logic, he’s as much of a coward as I am.” Anna rolls her eyes.

“Quinn proved EXP-25’s status in a single day. If I recall, you sent faulty reports and fabricated leads for six months .” His words replace Quinn’s fear with a hint of pride.

“Yeah, he succeeded after a week of driving around in that piece-of-shit car. I had a squadron cooped up in my house while you were being too much of a pussy to face Cole. When you finally grew a pair, you did it out in the open and lost your damn ear!” She stands and scowls at Quinn.

His lifeless smile fades in exchange for a brooding, bubbling anger. The blankness in his eyes were ever present, regardless of whatever rage boiled behind them.

“You do love the art of fabrication, don’t you, Anita? Possibly what we’ll need at B.E.D.”

She turns to the Head again, fists clenching.

“I will admit, you’re very good at covering your tracks. You’d make up for many of Quinn’s...inadequacies.” He says.

“T-The hell are you talking about?” Her voice slightly softens, her composure cracking with each grumbling breath.

“Well, failing Quantico? That’s a difficult secret to bury, even with a mountain of forged signature-”

“Stop—I didn’t forge shit and I’m especially not working with him. Nothing in your little contract said I gotta do anything for you except spy on Cole.”

The Head responds with a chuckle interrupted by a gravelly cough.

“Contract? Do you truly think any of that mattered?” The filters were unable to hide the venom that rolled off his tongue.

Anna tries hardening her expression, refusing to shrink at his words.

“I see no point in leaving now, with all these eyes on you. Perhaps B.E.D. will straighten you out, won’t it, Quinn?”

“Of course, si-“ Quinn nods before gunshots ripple through the halls. He flinches while his superior barely moves an inch.

“What was that-“

He freezes at Anna’s hand on the back of his head, nails digging past the blonde hairs and into his scalp.

He turns only to get his skull slammed into the desk, bouncing slightly against the groaning wood.

Such violence makes the Head finally stagger. Anna smirks at the sight of it and slams the device shut. She wastes no time dashing out of the room.

Tightening muscles and rushing blood only exaggerate her tense mind with each speedy step through the labyrinthine halls.

Humid sweat dampens her skin, making the sea of raised hairs fall over. Gratitude comes with the thought of EXP-25, though its ominous and ravaging nature remains.

A turn awaits in arms reach, one less step to freedom…until a body hurls into the wall.

Blood drips from the sprawling cracks in the stone, the victim’s chest fully caved in. She stops dead in her tracks and reaches for her pistol.

The gun shakes in her grip as she plants her feet in a firm stance. Skittering from beyond turns into booming footsteps accompanied by a light. It blinks and fades like a heartbeat, following heaving breaths.

She steps back, further compromising her position. Her finger tightens around the trigger as a hand slams on the wall’s corner. 

She fires, nearly falling back. EXP-25 squints its many eyes as the bullet zips through its flesh.

Its heaving turns into a raspy cackle as its limbs stretch from wall to wall, attempting to grin. The skin between its fingers split apart like the tails of a whip. Blood trickles down the exposed stringy tendons and bones.

The building scarlet puddles flow to the front of her boots, further petrifying her.

She looks up with wide eyes, expecting some signs of familiarity in its face.

It stares back, its dangling jaw twitching with rage.

She huffs and presses her pistol against the roof of its mouth, furrowing her brow like a prey animal intimidating its hunter.

A mix of a gasp and a chuckle escapes its throat right before its lower teeth ram into her arm.

She yelps and falls as the gun slides out of its mouth. The silencer hits the floor first with an echoing, defeated clunk.

Just as the creature lowers its head to devour hers, a high-pitched scream stops it like a deer in headlights.

Anna’s quivering posture dissipates while she eyes her pistol.

EXP-25 shudders and quakes with bursting, flaming rage, a noise bubbling from its lungs.

“.̶̗͊̽̂.̸̹̋̒̕.̵͈͓͝ N̵͍̿  ̷͎͂O̶̲͕̣͖̽̎  ̵̼̗̾̈́͠͝V̸͈̕  ̴̢͉̮͙͒́͂̚A!” A bellowing shriek lunges from its lips. Anna shields her ears as it turns and charges down the hall from which it prowled. Her escape resumes the moment it leaves her field of vision.

She dashes through the now doorless exit, passing the threshold of light and darkness.

Gasoline drips from the now flipped-over car. Her eyes dart to the nearby vans, blood boiling with adrenaline, her mind fuzzy but-

As the sun hits her face, a rippling, jittering sting pierces her back. She falls over and braces for the impact by shielding her face. A repetitive clicking stops once she’s down.

The pebbles and hard earth below bombard her hands with nicks and scrapes. Loose skin begins to bleed as she tries to roll onto her back.

Every vibrating movement aches—every nerve pulses with agony even as her twitching softens.

The sun reflects off two spiraling, spindly cords. Her eyes trail to its source: an unfortunately familiar pistol and wielder.

Quinn’s corpse-like stare turns into a grin as he approaches her, pulls out the cords, and drags her to one of the vans. She kicks and flails but every movement lacks any energy for proper resistance.

Quinn chuckles at her struggling as he opens the back door and tosses her inside. Shadows enrapture the back and sides, only alleviated by the beam of light from the exit.

She pushes herself up, crawling towards him with a feral scowl. 

“Shame, I thought you were smarter than this.” He laughs and slams the door as her hand brushes against his tie.

The sudden bend of her wrist against the door makes her retreat, mistaking one direction for another. She flinches but ultimately loosens when her back finally hits a wall.

With darkness devouring everything in sight, she closes her eyes and furrows her brow, contemplating.

***

…

. . .

.  .  .

LIGHTS. L-LOUD. SPILLING…squelching…

My feet are planted on a soldier’s upper back. Quiet cracks and snaps make him groan as I dig my fingers into his helmet.

His spine bulges like a serpent under his flesh, each ridge and bump pulsing . His flimsy skin and broken armor barely stop it from tearing. His cries turn into shrieks as blood trickles from the back of his neck. It's hard to focus, to relish in each tearing muscle when he's screaming his lungs out.

Even he’s quieter than this, but you took him, y̴o̴u̷ ̸t̷o̷o̶k̶ ̸h̵i̸m, Ỹ̴͕̌̇̓O̶̠̳̅U̴̮̅̀ ̶̡̧̗̻̈́̃͝T̴̀̊͛͜ͅÖ̶͈́Ơ̷̩̖͐͆K̴̞̒͐̕͝ ̶̮̙̈́̀H̶̢̤̳̕I̶̙͇̋̿̑͗M̸̦͋̈͑̓.

My own scream overpowers his as I yank his head back as hard as I can.

It rips off alongside his spine with enough force, blood spurting from the spilling mush and torn tendons in his neck.

It slides out of my hand with a squishing thump as it hits the floor. That shuddering rush of pleasure never comes, only anger. They should deserve it, I should feel at peace, but my rage changes its course towards me.

What…I…

What have I done?

Those words rip me apart, even as my body shrinks and mends. Mutilated faces flash before my eyes, old and new. I-I did this, I tore them all apart beyond recognition, I enjoyed their screams.

A burning sensation bubbles up in my throat once all the mutations fade away, all except for my eyes. They’ve always mocked me, reminded me of this violence from my earliest memor-

My disgust and humiliation finally spill from my mouth as I hunch over. A red glow shimmers off the shameful bile that pools below me. 

S-She’d hate-

Everything freezes when another cry echoes from a few feet away.

N-Nova!

Pistol-wielding surgeons already litter the gore-splashed halls along with their guards. I refuse to look at their claw-marked corpses as I stumble, coughing and spitting up whatever’s left in my stomach.

My guilt recedes from a flame to a simmer once I start shoving all the desks and chairs blocking the room. If he’s hurt, if they laid a goddamn finger on him, I’ll…I’ll…

No, don’t slip back. H-He deserves better than some shambling fuck for a father. I can’t let him see me like this, drenched in the meat and blood of people neither of us will ever know.

One hand pries the furniture away while another wipes the viscera from my chest and face using what little’s left of my clothes. An already damp gray shirt turns brownish-red with each slide of cloth along scarred, wet skin.

I vault over the remaining wall of obstacles and rush to the cradle, which looks more like some twisted medical cage. A faint red glow radiates from it, reflecting off the glass sides.

“Nova!” I gasp, hoping, praying he’s ok.

A massive weight falls off my shoulders once I finally see him fidgeting. His eyes go from blindingly bright to barely noticeable once he sees my own glow, though still bawling his eyes out.

He’s changed but his onesie is folded on a table alongside a row of clean medical tools. My heart spikes and I do a double-take to ensure he’s not hurt.

No scars or needles to be seen—thank fuck. Whatever devices were put on his were long removed and dangling from above. They were probably about done by the time I got here.

That doesn’t matter anymore, none of that matters. I lift and hold him against my chest out of pure instinct, craving the wave of respite that washes over me.

I kiss him on the head and whisper whatever comes to mind as his cries die down. I-I just want him to forget all about this and never see what I’ve done.

All this violence, all this anger…I can’t be like this for him. I need to be calmer, stronger, so he won’t end up alone.

“My boy…” I whisper with a weak smile when he’s finally silent.

I keep him close to my chest as I step over the countless bodies. Don’t focus on them, just…just forget like you did all those years ago.

I fish a pair of keys out of a corpse lying face-down. At least I don’t gotta see his face, or whatever I did to it. They all started blurring into one once I got here, their faces, their wounds.

No time’s wasted as I step outside, bare feet scraping against the rocky excuse for a backdoor parking lot. A van’s gone, a dent in the rocks leading to its former position—must’ve been how those brats drove off.

Doesn’t matter anymore—need to get Nova home.

The drive back is done with caution as Nova sits in my lap, maybe to balance out all the reckless shit I did today. Jeez, they couldn’t at least bring a booster seat? So much for a top-notch task force—can’t spy on people for shit either.

It's odd, seeing Houtson’s outskirts through anything but a shitty cracked windshield. Most stuff I saw years ago has either degraded into nothing or turned completely unrecognizable. 

Nova’s awake but something’s…off. He’s not babbling or trying to grab and eat something he shouldn’t, just staring at whatever catches his eye. His sight goes to everything except me, even when I pull over every now and then to make sure he’s doing ok.

She didn’t like eye contact either, just something she wasn’t a fan of. Should he be showing signs this early?

What if I was too late? Was something done to him? W-What if he saw something?

N-No, it can’t be that, none of the tools had blood and I didn’t see any scars. What is it then? I…I just need to know how to make him better, to make up for what I’ve done to protect him.

God, I should’ve never booked it home after Quinn found me. I only exposed myself by mutating in public, and for what? So I could get back at some annoying brat!? Nova won’t even look at me, we’re in deeper shit than ever before and it's all because of me. 

I-I just want Nova to have a normal life, but that might never come true thanks to my fucking-

Skrrt— the sound makes me flinch, startling Nova in the process. My fear is replaced by familiarity or some kind of nostalgia. It's nighttime with barely any stars in the sky.

No cop cars, no vans, no nothing. Makes sense, B.E.D. would want as few eyes on them as possible.

I still hurry out of the van and into the house with Nova in my arms. The speed I dash at makes him chuckle with excitement.

We’re met with an air of comfort, even with the kicked-in door and muddy bootprints everywhere.

Nova’s all that matters right now despite all the plans that hatch in my head, this time actually coherent. I spend the next two hours feeding and changing him, then bathing with him. I gotta be quick and put him to bed.

I groan at the sight of the assassin’s corpse rotting in my room. I keep Nova close and facing my chest as the body’s tucked under the bed.

Once that’s done, he’s put in his damaged crib with little fussing, then falls asleep soon after, like usual.

The sensation of fresh, soft clothes feels…alien. All those hours of unconsciousness or spilling guts passed like an eternity of discomfort and scorching anger. That’s behind me now, buried deep enough to help me focus on what’s next. Even if it rears its rotting head from the dirt, I’ll just stomp it back to the hell it came from.

I immediately start packing all our clothes with whatever I can store them in. The next hour is spent zipping back and forth from the closet to the car. All my clothes are crammed in trash bags, then in the front seat. I save some space in the trunk for my old suitcases full of Nova’s stuff. 

The cooler and my organs are next, I should have enough to get me at least sixty grand.

“Go to the regular spot, it's an emergency.” I text him with my burner phone and then toss it as hard as I can into the backyard.

Food is a walk in the park, so are toys and baby supplies. It's three in the morning by the time I get to the garage to salvage what I can. It was always our go-to storage room since the attic isn't big or safe enough to store shit.

I get a bag for sentimental stuff like photos and the like, even taking one of her old textbooks. There’s a box of old console games too, for the one she had in college that sounded like a jet engine when it booted up. She gave it to August after getting a better one, pretty sure that one’s still collecting dust below the TV, should probably grab that too. 

I-I still need to give her ashes up, don’t I?

I sigh at the thought, distracting myself by stashing other minuscule stuff. Her ashes could get split, half for me, half for her family. They wouldn’t mind, right? Not sure they’d even notice.

That’s everything besides the fundamentals, and with three more hours to boot. Now-

I grunt and slam on the smooth floor as something flings back under my slipping foot. My hand bends back in a direction it shouldn’t, breaking my fall in the process.

“The fuck?” I mumble while snapping my wrist in place. I turn to see…a tape recorder? Don’t recall us ever having one.

I pick it up while glaring at its flimsy plastic and metal frame to see what’s inside. There’s a tape labeled “JUST IN CASE” in a faded orange highlighter.

My thumb hovers over the play button with twitching curiosity. It’d be nice to hear her voice again if that’s what’s in store. Eh, I’ve got time before sunrise, might as well listen to it.

It starts with a click, then some kind of shuffling.

“Let’s see…” Her voice petrifies me and my eyes widen. I swear to god if this makes me cry-

“So, uh…crap, how should I start this? First off, this is recorded on April thirteenth, 2017. Wait, I should probably write that on the tape gimme a sec-”

April 2017, six months before Nova was born. She sounds so vibrant, so beautiful. I could listen to it for hours if it can withstand being rewound all day.

“So! I thought I’d make this in case I need a reminder after Neo’s born, or if I’m too nervous to tell you myself, or…in case I’m not here anymore.”

Her words hit me harder than any bullet—she had a hunch after all. To her, it was just harmless catastrophizing. I had those thoughts, too, but she said it’d be fine, all the doctors said she was gonna be fine.

Then why?

“I remember when you brought it up to me all those months ago—h-having kids, I mean. Nothing’s off so far now that we’re three months in, just the typical pregnancy stuff. If I keep talking about it I might punch a wall, but this is different! I was always gonna need some time to think about it, but…I get a lot of your worries, and I did some digging.”

…You did what?

“So, on the off chance that maybe, somehow, Neo has the same powers as you, I’ve got a plan. Turns out B.E.D. has a lot of abandoned sites across the country. I dug up some reports from labs in Baton Rouge and Charleston that mention working on a neutralizer. From what I’ve found, the mutations work like a virus introduced to experiments during the embryonic stage, and the white blood cells don’t recognize it as a threat. This neutralizer gets them to attack the virus somehow. It did seem like it was a work in progress, but it's our best shot.”

… I didn’t even know this shit. How’d she figure it all out without getting caught?

“I know this sounds overwhelming, having a kid is already intimidating for both of us, but we’ll be ok! He might not even have mutated cells and all this research could be for nothing—who knows? Just remember we’ve got this, and if it's just you, then you got this.” Her voice lowers at the end with a deep sadness I rarely heard from her.

A couple tears fall on the recorder as my grip tightens. 

Don’t go…

“If this never sees the light of day, or even if you find this before you’re supposed to,”

Please, Jules…

“-just know I love you, crash dummy,” She chuckles. I hear her hand moving to stop the recording but I pause it at the last second.

I-I can’t stop myself from letting out a choked sob as I hold the tape player close to my chest. She changed her mind about naming him Neo what, a week before it happened? There’s so much I don’t remember from those days leading up to it—that I refuse to remember.

I wipe my tears and stare at the floor. Why didn’t she tell me? I just wanted us to be safe for once, so Nova wouldn’t grow up with a target on his back.

I sniffle and slide the recorder in my pocket; there’s still a chance with a long road to get there. I-It doesn’t matter, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep him safe, so I don’t have to live with what I’ve done.

I spend the last couple hours checking everything in the car, looting the assassin for their walkie-talkie, and locking every window.

His waking coos echo into the living room and I approach his cradle.

“Morning, buddy,” I whisper with a smile.

He stretches and yawns, which only melts my heart even more. I pick him up to change, bathe, and feed him for the last time in this house. We always thought the rest of our lives would be spent here, waking up in each other’s arms and raising Nova.

I might find another good house once this is all over, maybe closer to August and Abeni. Still, it’ll be a nightmare to do background checks on everyone in the neighborhood. That might not even be enough anymore…

I start the final steps by ripping out the legs of Nova’s cradle and placing it between the middle seats. It fits perfectly between them, firm and secure. 

I finally exit the house with Julia’s urn in one arm and Nova in the other. The other half of her ashes lay in a bag in the glove compartment.

My hands hesitate to open the driver’s seat door. I might never see this house again, or this city again.

I can’t be chained to this place, not for a while. Still, I find myself relishing in the urban ambience—am I seriously gonna miss Houston?

The first stop is the alley. Sure enough, the car’s there. I waste no time hopping out and rolling the whole cooler to them. My face shifts to a scowl as the driver’s window rolls down.

“You said it’s an emergency, the hell’s up with-”

“I need a new ID now. This should have about sixteen organs, enough to keep you guys satisfied for a while.”

“Sixteen!? Do we even have enough cash for that?” The passenger gasps.

The driver sighs and reaches for several blocks of cash, ten grand.

“I got a few on me, but a custom one’s gonna take a bit. I’m assuming you won’t be home?”

“The fuck do you think? Just track my license plate or some shit. Name me uh…Mason or something.”

Mason: a name that’s lingered in my head after all these years. Wonder what happened to him after I got out? 

“Cool, I’ll let the boss know.” The driver nods.

Right, they’ve got a boss. My first guy slipped that they're based in Atlanta a couple years back, then disappeared the next week. Who knows, I might call for a favor when I pass by.

He flings a random ID at me; a pretty average white guy with scraggly dark brown hair. Good enough, I’ll just say I got in some accident to explain the scars.

I snort and watch them haul the cooler into the trunk, then drive off.

Dropping her ashes off is next, unfortunately. The drive to her family’s house doesn’t come with the same urge to burn each aspect into my brain since I’ve only been a couple times.

I park a few houses down and look down at the urn in my lap. My hands practically vibrate, slick enough to make me use both my arms. It's like my whole body is doing everything it can to keep her with me.

Just…breathe. It’ll be ok.

I check on Nova before hopping out and awkwardly placing the urn at their front door. Every step is hesitant against the sidewalk, dragging until I reach their house.

Birds chirp while leaves rustle, slightly shielding me from the rising sun. The neighborhood’s peaceful, fancy, even; maybe moving close by won’t be so bad after all. 

I’m sweating buckets once I get to the front door. I-I changed my mind, I…I don’t wanna let her go…

I turn away, only to rotate again after a moment of hesitance. They deserve to remember her too, not just through a dozen random belongings, but through her.

The urn slips in my hands a little, making me flinch even as it's planted firmly on the ground. 

I bolt back to the car, expecting all that safety and warmth I’ve felt for years to crumble and disperse in the wind. 

What’s left of me without her? What’s a shield without something to protect? The question stirs in my head as I enter the driver’s seat again.

Despite all my predictions, that feeling refuses to go away, spiking at the sound of Nova’s cooing from his booster seat.

I turn to face him, both our eyes glowing. There’s this sense of relief every time he enters my sight or rests in my arms. It's not exactly like my comfort with her, but it’s not inferior. I smile at our son, and my attempt to form a silly face makes him laugh. Strangely enough, my smile doesn’t fade when I avert my eyes, feeling that joy radiate like a campfire behind me.

Finally, I send a message to August.

“Hey, it isn’t safe for Nova and I to stay in Houston anymore. I can’t stay in contact but I promise I’ll be back. Julia’s ashes are at the front door. Don’t try to message me, I probably won’t see it for a while.” It reads, rushed, but that's the most I can muster.

I snap my phone in half, toss it out the window, and start the car. One last deep breath concludes my time here as I drive off.

Nova’s ok, Julia’s ok, I…think I’m ok for now? Only time will tell, right now I just gotta follow her lead so we can finally be safe, so our son can grow up with actually normal problems a kid should have.

I'll do whatever it takes to get us there, even if it kills me.

Chapter Text

2001

"Julia!"

Instant dread washed over the girl in question, even after she held her breath to hear no footsteps approaching.

Julia turned to the beige door in her room, unfittingly bland compared to the anime posters and bookshelves that lined the walls. Not exactly claustrophobic, though it wasn't spacious, either.

She rolled off her stomach with a groan. Regret sank its teeth into her head when the nose pads of her glasses pressed against her caruncles. That's what they were called, right?

It didn't matter; none of those thoughts mattered. As long as it held back the inevitable scolding or talks about the future waiting for her downstairs, she was content.

Then, footsteps.

Her suddenly wide eyes darted to the open manga chapter on her bed. She immediately shoved it into her pillowcase, not wanting either of her parents to see the graphic contents splattered across its pages.

She sat up as the door groaned open. A wince spread across her face, even as the sound died with a squeak.

"J, baby, we gotta talk." A familiar face gave a comforting smirk. Such an expression nearly made all her stress fizzle away.

"I-I, uh…Yeah, dad? What for?" She inched to the side of her bed at the back corner of her room.

"Just some…stuff about the future, we can talk in the kitchen." Her father struggled to maintain the optimism in his weary eyes. Julia's frustration returned even worse as he walked back into the hall—with the door open.

She sighed, stood, and flicked the lights off on her way out. A tired gaze tried to bloom into something more upbeat, and her posture went from a sag to a straight line as she trekked through the narrow, bright hallway.

She lifted her hand over her eyes—the goddamn lights. Home shouldn't be like this; home shouldn't be some Olympic effort to slog through. All these years of rushing past the hum of the AC and the buzz of lightbulbs, and it still overwhelmed her to exhaustion. The photos, the crosses, it was all just visual vomit to her.

She clenched her fists; all that anger had to come out somehow, at least in a way that didn't get her scolded by teachers and family alike. Sometimes deep breaths didn't cut it, sometimes she just needed to be somewhere else. What about that was so offensive to people who were already repulsed by her presence?

Her spiraling thoughts paused once she stepped into the kitchen, graced by its softer lights. Among its polished counters and grease-stained stoves was a round table in the middle of the room. Four chairs surrounded it, two of them occupied.

Julia gave a weak smile, perhaps to distract her parents from her lack of eye contact as she sat down.

"You guys wanted to talk?" She mumbled and rubbed her fingers along the table's smooth underside in a desperate grasp for respite.

Her mother, Abeni, sighed and pursed her withered lips.

"You're not in trouble; we just wanna talk about your future." Her father, Justin, interjected and placed his hand on his daughter's.

"I-I mean, there's…not much to talk about. I know I'm picking physics."

"As you have said many times. There are other matters to discuss regarding your future, and there are rules we must establish." Her mother said, the smoothness of her Nigerian accent contrasting her stern tone. Her words weren't venomous, but the authority in their place made Julia stressed regardless.

She nodded in reply, gulping.

"You will not be attending college outside of Houston. You will send your admission to Gladia with help from your father."

Julia's heart sank a thousand feet, as if it were yanked out of her own chest.

Justin leaned closer to Abeni and held her hand. "What we mean is we just…don't think it's safe for you to move out of the state for college. Kids your age get all this pressure to uproot their whole life, and we don't want that for you—I don't want that for you. Plus, you already know most of the folks at Gladia through me."

Julia's gaze wandered to help her think, though she flinched and snapped back to her mother when she cleared her throat.

"And there are clearly still things we must take care of before then. You should not be behaving like this at your age. Does this bore you? Do you not care about your own future?"

"I do, it's just-"

"It's just what? What excuse do you have this time for your disrespectful attitude?"

"Abeni." Justin stared with a disappointed expression, prompting her to sigh and return to silence.

"I wouldn't have said it like that, but it's true, there are problems we gotta work out," he said and pushed up his shiny browline glasses.

Julia nodded, not wanting to risk another verbal lashout if she spoke another word.

"We're worried about the social aspect, mostly. High school, college, you're supposed to be makin' friends, smilin' more. You haven't been doing much of that, so its just something we gotta improve on before you take this next step."

"It's hard to do that when everyone thinks you're a freak. I've told you this a million times already." Julia glared.

"Did you ever even try talking to people these past two years?"

"Dad, everyone already knew each other. Nobody even wanted to listen to me if it didn't make them look good. If this is so important, then I should get something like August's counseling. That's gonna help me out a lot more than another random church meetup."

Her mother tapped her hand on the table, making her daughter freeze up.

"Julia, you are not like him, and you do not need the same assistance he needs. What you need is to fix your tone." Abeni said, switching to Yoruba mid-sentence.

"You've got no problem accommodating him, but I'm just being a brat?" Julia scowled and stood from her groaning chair.

"Because it is outside of his control! Your issues, your attitude, are from your own choices."

"Dad and August got diagnosed, but you think it just magically skipped me? You've never thought about how fucking stupi-"

"Julia, that's enough," Justin grunted, not even shouting. Its impact was no different, however, and it made her go quiet.

"I'll talk with your mom about counseling, but right now, you gotta calm the hell down. Just…go cool off in your room." He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Julia glanced at both her parents before she stormed off, crossing her arms and digging her dull nails into the sleeves of her jacket. Mumblings could be heard as she rushed down the hall. Most of it was barely understandable, but one sentence caught her ear as she cautiously shut her bedroom door.

"She needs to apologize." Her mother grumbled in Yoruba.

Julia tightened her grip on the doorknob with no lock to turn. She pressed her forehead against its textured, chipped frame and let out all the frustration that bubbled in her suffocated lungs with a sigh.

"M'not fucking apologizing, she needs to apologize…" She mumbled whilst flicking the lights back on.

Then, a soft, stimulating buzzing in her pocket. She slid it out and smirked at the name on her compact yellow phone.

"Mia Nguyen :)" It read in pixelated, barely legible letters across a tiny screen. Julia pressed answer and flopped onto her bed.

"Yeah?" She whispered.

"I don't see you outside. Everything ok?"

Instant embarrassment hit her like a freight train as her smile faded.

"Shit! God, Mia, I'm so sorry. I-I completely forgot, today's been a nightma-"

"Relax, relax; I'm still parked a couple houses down from you. They haven't put a lock on your window, right?"

Julia lifts her head to face said opening at the end of her room. Chirps and hums could be heard from the other side.

"They set up this, uh, security thing. I'm trying to remember what time it comes on. I think it's at midnight?"

"…It's 11:58."

Julia practically leapt off her bed once she checked it for herself. She instantly got to work lifting the blinds and yanking the window itself up, though not before snatching the manga under her pillow.

A cringe spread across her face with each crunch of fallen leaves and branches under her pastel yellow shoes. The barrier of sharp foliage was even harder to push past without arousing suspicion.

Some stumbling through a bush and a near heart attack later, and she was in the clear. A rickety, stout car awaited down the street just as Mia said, rumbling from afar.

The quiet homes, the nearly pitch-black sky, it was all a blur to her as she hurried away from all the overwhelming anger that remained at home.

Even with her newfound rush of adrenaline and freedom, shame couldn't help but creep in. She shook her head at the feeling.

Mia didn’t have the time to even wave with how fast Julia hopped inside and promptly deflated into the passenger's seat.

"Sorry…I-I'm sorry…" Julia panted

Her friend replied with a snicker. "Good to see you too? What're you reading?"

"Oh, I-I, uh, shit. I started reading Berserk." She answered, swearing under her breath at the noticeable dent that made a corner on the cover crooked.

"Sounds familiar. How far have you gotten?"

"Just the first chapter. It's a little rough around the edges, but I think it's got potential."

Mia leaned close and shrugged.

"Cool."

Julia let out a nervous chuckle. "Not the most exciting stuff compared to nursing school, right?"

"Trust me, anything's waaay more interesting than nursing school."

"Aren't you almost done?"

"I've been done. I start work in a couple weeks."

Julia laughed again, "Since when?"

"Uh, since two months ago? I didn't tell you?"

"I would've remembered if you told me two months ago. Happy to hear you're past it, at least." Her giggling died down.

"Yeah, what about you? You got Harvard in the bag?" Mia joked.

"I wish. Fuckin'—my parents won't even let me leave Houston."

"Seriously?"

Julia nodded, her smile turning reluctant.

Mia scoffed and shook her head as she narrowed her gaze.

"Well that sucks. You still feel like heading to that bookstore?"

Julia took a bit to respond, gazing at whatever caught her eye in Mia's cluttered car. Wrinkled receipts and other junk were stuck between the squeaky beige seats, all harshly illuminated by the overhead light.

"Sure! I, uh, I think I've got some cash on me but-"

"Oh, don't worry about that. I've got a friend."

Julia raised a brow. "And you're saying this because…?"

"I'm saying we might be able to get some free shit. His break's at around 12:30, so we've got some time to kill before we meet him out back."

"Doesn't sound all that safe; you sure he's not some weirdo?"

"Jules, he's been getting me cheap textbooks for like, four years now."

"Why, though? Is there a catch?"

"Nope! Pretty sure he's just doing it out of spite."

Julia sighed. "This is the exact kind of thing you've warned me about."

"Come on, I never would've brought it up if I didn't trust him. Do you really think I'd lie to you?" Mia said.

More silence, though Julia made up her mind before it got too awkward.

"…Fuck it, let's go."

"That's the spirit!" Mia grinned and started driving.

A comforting warmth in Julia's chest replaced her worries, soothing her as the car sped forward. The guilt, the frustration, the fear, it all dispersed like ashes in the wind

She smiled, basking in her fleeting joy.

***

2018

A coo, then a whine.

The sound makes me jump up from the reclined driver's seat. I dart towards the middle of the minivan to pick up the source of the crying from his neatly-fitted cradle between the seats.

Nova's not a loud crier, but the sounds still give me a damn-near heart attack. It's not like I've got any sleep to lose, though.

"Hey, hey, it's ok, I'm right here…" I whisper as I flick the dome light on. His eyes flash red, faint but long enough for me to notice before they fade.

I frown; so he's got that too, great.

"Alright, buddy, what's the problem…" I mumble in response to Nova's sobs.

I grimace after a few quick observations. He's just been fed, he doesn't need changing, and the car isn't too hot, so…what's his deal?

Then, it hits me, and a sigh creeps out with obvious regret: nightmares, then.

Jesus, who knows what he could've seen when I got knocked out? Getting pulled out of bed, seeing his dad choking on his own blood…

What do they want w̴i̵t̵h̶ ̸h̸i̶m̷? W̴͔̌h̵͚̕a̷͍͑t̶͖̏ ̶̳͗d̵̤͑ȋ̶͓d̷͕̏ ̶̠͛ț̶̾h̷̋͜ẹ̵̛y̴̮̔ ̸̠̎d̸̩̕o̵̯̐ ̵̢̎t̶̹̂o̶̡̿ ̷̮͝m̸͖̈́y̶̰͝ ̵̣͠s̶̬̉o-

The furious red radiating from my eyes makes Nova calm down. I immediately revert once I notice it, though that only makes him amp up to cry again.

"Fuckin'…ok..." I whisper. She'd murder me for talking like this around him. It almost gets a laugh out of me.

The glow returns, reflecting off my son's curious, wide eyes. He giggles and holds his hands out. I raise a brow when he repeatedly grips the air.

He laughs when I respond by flickering my eyes on and off, fading in and out of brown and crimson. I start to smirk, and the scarred slit on my upper lip widens.

Come to think of it, it's a lot more memorable than all the other shit on my body, though not the good kind.

I was, uh…fourteen at the time, I think? Got it from some retired sergeant B.E.D. hired to train me, hardly even remember half the shit he screamed in my face; though I'll never forget what he did. His slicing of skin right next to the corner of my mouth, exposing my teeth…

Nova breaks my train of thought with a coo. I embrace the flickering warmth in my heart, letting it turn my smirk into a smile.

His little sounds and gestures slow down after a bit and eventually stop completely. He's sleepy, at least, helps take some weight off my shoulders.

I place him back in his cradle and glance outside: still dark. Well, dark might be an overstatement. Countless stars light up the night, which does leave me exposed as hell, but it could be an advantage if I'm attentive enough.

Could see that blonde fucker and his shitty car from a million miles away.

Come to think of it, I haven't seen him or Anna since I got out of Houston. Eh, she probably jumped ship once she saw what she was getting into, much as I wanna bash her fucking hea-

"No point in lingering on it. No point in lingering…" I mutter and return to the driver's seat. Julia always told me that, after every nightmare, after every flashback, or whatever the hell they were.

I pry the sunroof open, letting the night sky spill into the car. Its light isn't big enough to reach Nova's cradle, thank God.

Never saw this many stars out in Houston. It's a relaxing kind of light, not like whatever fluorescent bullshit B.E.D. kept on all day and night in my time under their "Care" if you could even call it that.

I slide my hands behind my head as I get comfy. She'd always ramble about space, or physics, or space-physics for hours before falling asleep. Barely ever understood a word of it, but…damn if I didn't love holding her in bed, hearing her talk…

I turn to the glovebox; gotta remind myself that she's safe in there, half of her, at least.

I hope her family's safe. The worst B.E.D.'ll do is pay them off to stay quiet, like they always do. The Head and all his little shits know how many eyes are on them, and they're smart enough to know just killing someone off isn't gonna magically fix all their problems. At least it means fewer eyes are on us, though that doesn't make B.E.D. any less on my ass.

Alright, back to distracting myself. The stars move too slow for me to notice their shifting course. 'Least there's a way to take my mind off things.

My eyes zip from dot to dot, trying to string them together in my head to form any recognizable constellations. I see uh…Orion's belt and…yeah, that's all I got. I could just make up constellations, much as it would piss her off.

About an hour passes before my vision starts to drag instead of dart. I sit up the moment I feel my eyelids get heavy.

Sometimes she'd hit me over the head with a pillow if I didn't rest enough. I'd love to, but Nova's safety comes first. Plus, she was not one to talk.

My drowsy vision sifts through the countless trees that surround us, noting every car that dashes through the road I'll be coming back to in the morning. Just couldn't find a motel, so I had to stop further off the beaten path. I'm not new to sleeping in a car, but Nova sure is, and keeping the AC on is gonna burn up a bunch of gas…

God, I'm glad I got to feed him before stopping. I need more supplies in case I can't find a place to heat up his formu-

Crunch.

The sound nearly makes me jump out of my seat. It's too loud, too abnormal to be some animal, more like a boot crushing dead branches. I keep my hearing sharp as I lie back down and stay that way.

Crunch…Crunch…

It's subtle, like something or someone trying to keep quiet. I think it's coming from the back of the car.

Each footstep makes me more and more tense. It gets to the point where my hands start to mutate, hardening at the knuckles and sharpening at the fingertips.

One deep breath, then the yank of the door handle.

I grunt and face whatever the hell's stalking my car. Fatigue is clear in my quiet, half-assed snarl as the figure immediately raises their hands.

My eyes scan them up and down: typical bulky, gray camping clothes and a black cloth concealing their mouth. It's more fit for Alaskan hiking than camping in East Texas, though.

"Back off. Now." I growl. They don't respond, staring dead at me with wide, hazel eyes.

"Back off, or I'll make sure no one finds your body."

They suddenly pull down their face covering and it damn-near provokes me into lunging at them.

"Cole, Cole, it's me!" She yells with a scowl spreading across her face.

That voice…Oh, great, that voice.

My mutations soften but don't completely revert at the sight of her. It doesn't make her deer-in-headlights stare change, though.

"…Mia?"

***

Quinn taps his foot next to the brake with bubbling anticipation. His pale, dead face stares out the window of his car with nothing but forests and bumpy roads in sight.

On the dash, above the steering wheel, is a bulky laptop, screaming static out of its dusty speakers like needles in his eardrums.

"Any day now, you fucking fossil." He hisses under his breath.

"…Isn't he your boss?"

His sight narrows to the passenger seat, particularly to the woman rummaging through a paper bag with big orange "W"s on the sides.

"Enough. That sound is disgusting." He says with boiling frustration as the only sign of life in his voice.

"Just askin'…" Anna shrugs.

She tugs at her black tie, her face scrunching at her uniform’s resemblance to Quinn’s.

The silence that follows only makes him dig his fingers into his crossed arms.

"Is there anything in there you haven't already scarfed down?"

"Oh, now you're hungry? I'm not gonna have basic human interaction for you. Maybe just ask what you want next time."

Quinn purses his lips and clenches his teeth, especially at the sight of his bony arms under his sleeves. He immediately tugs them back up and averts his gaze. Anna sighs and pulls out a small cheeseburger.

"I didn't think you were going to be this much of a bitch when he hired you," He says under his breath.

She scoffs whilst unraveling the paper wrapped around her food, "And I didn't think you were gonna tase me and force me into this…science-cult…whatever you've got going on."

Quinn's fingers curl into a fist, which only makes her laugh and put her burger down.

"Let me guess, everyone got tired of kissing your ass, so the boss hired a nobody mercenary for his favorite boy of the month, right?"

"I work alone, but at least I actually know if I'm biting off more than I can chew; that's the only reason you're still alive."

"Really? Must be a new developmen-"

The laptop's garbled noise turns into a short-lived shriek before its screen fizzles into a more coherent image: The Head.

Quinn's posture immediately straightens, his brows lifting into a cheerier expression.

Anna's confusion is replaced with distress when that masked, gravelly voice pours from the speakers.

"Q6…Quinn." The Head wheezes. His new mask reflects less light off the screen thanks to its darker, more industrial frame with silver lines and sharp edges.

Anna's subtle repulsion at her new superior's voice increases when the sound of his artificial, puffing breaths enters her ears like nails on a chalkboard.

"Is there…progress on the child?"

Quinn forces a grin. "It's been, um, eventful, sir. Is everything-"

"That's none of your concern. You are not the one asking questions, do you understand me?" The Head's raspy hiss ascends to a bark with every word.

Quinn's smile fades a bit, enough to make Anna even more uneasy.

"I'm sorry, Quinn. It's…It's these goddamn pills they keep giving me. Just in time for the new helmet, too; it, um…it should help with my breathing." The old man attempts to straighten his posture.

"I-I understand, sir." Quinn's subtle exhale interrupts his persona, if only for a split second.

Anna chimes in after a moment, "Word of mouth makes us think the kid and his dad're headed east into Louisiana. He's not taking the major routes super frequently, so-"

Quinn clears his throat, eyes narrowing into a half-glare.

"…Anyways, the pursuit of the child is going smoothly. I noticed your broadcast to other agents for backup, but I assure you, sir-"

"No! No, 25, he's too unstable. I thought what he did in Bunker-TX was just an outburst, some one-off tantrum, but I…I never could've imagined…" his superior rambled, resting his head onto his hand.

Anna's cringing finally appears in her lowering brows and wrinkling nose, though mostly out of sight from the screen.

"…O49 should be in the area. Contact him in the morning."

"Sir, I imagine he has more important matters on his hands. Leave this to us, to me, and we'll have the child in no time." Quinn assures him.

Silence, brewing like heat from a furnace. Such tension nearly makes Anna sweat.

The Head sighs, "I can't imagine what he'd do to you if you tried facing him by yourself, let alone the kind of danger the child's in. I…Kill him, for it's sake."

"Mhm." Quinn exhales with a hint of annoyance, though still hiding it behind a smile.

The Head reaches for something out of sight before the screen returns to static. Quinn's posture slouches, with his face returning to its usual lifeless shape.

"Who the hell's O49?"

Quinn suddenly slams the laptop shut.

"None of your business, that's who he is; and stop running your mouth while you're at it." He snarls.

"Yeah, don't wanna ruin your boy-of-the-month streak, right?"

He responds with a sigh, nearly a growl, as he returns to staring out the driver's seat window.

"He's only cared about me; everyone else is just fodder, I...I'm not fodder..." He murmurs to himself.

"Probably what all his other lackeys think. Seen this a million times before."

"Oh, like you're so much smarter." Quinn hisses.

"Yep, waaay smarter. I've done shit you couldn't do in your wildest dreams." She smirks, leaning back and resting her feet on the dashboard.

"Like what, kill for a quick buck? Blackmail anyone who saw it happen? That's a Tuesday for us."

Anna tries and fails to hide her suddenly pained, ashamed expression, as if masking a stab wound.

"Oh, did I hit a nerve?"

Her fists clench at the condescension in his otherwise dead, flat voice.

"…Y'know, for people who can't shut up about being good blackmailers or whatever the hell, you guys missed a lot about me."

"Like your fathers?"

Three words, and all her confidence begins to crumble.

"Yeah, brag all you want about your kill count or coverup skills or whatever bullshit you made up to get as far as you have. We know you've got plenty to lose if you leave, and if you're as experienced as you say you are, then why don't you just…jump out the window? Snap my neck and erase your identity, maybe?"

She huffs in response, as if ramping up to insult him back. Ultimately, nothing leaves her lips, replying with nervous eyes and a scowl.

"You're decent at keeping secrets, I'll give you that, but so are we, and we're even better at spreading the word. Just think about it: a retired CIA agent covering up for his mercenary daughter—could you imagine the scandal? The shame?" Quinn leans closer with furrowing brows to complement his mocking tone.

"You think I won't ditch you fuckers the second I get the chance? You…You think I'm gonna keep my mouth shut just 'cause some scrawny rat told me to?" She finally responds.

"I mean, I'd love to see you try, but we're great at shutting people up. You shove your skeletons in the closet and pretend they don't exist; we bury ours twenty feet deep."

She turns away with a pained glare and a stutter in her sigh.

Quinn's expression dies like a mask slipping off his face. He lets out a muffled "Hmph." in a half-hearted attempt to chuckle.

"Now you're quiet?" He tilts his head.

No reply, not even a glance in his direction.

"Threaten me all you like, you're still stuck with us, and you're going to like it."

***

Mia's hands lower, though still facing up.

"How the fuck did you find me? Why're you here?" I grunt as my fingers fuse and sharpen.

The sight of it makes her gloved palms quiver. "Alright, alright! Just…I'll explain if you stop whatever that is."

"Not happening. Now start talking." I reply, making the red glow in my veins pulse in a burst of light.

A stuttering sigh escapes her, and she pulls her hood back. Short black hair falls and sways a little in the cold wind.

"Okay, okay, Christ! I uh, I-I caught wind of some neighborhood alert where you lived, but it just…poof, gone after a couple minutes. Your neighbors were pretty cagey about it, too, not to mention your house was a mess-" She rambles, talking a million miles an hour.

"Whoa, whoa, slow down. Why'd you start caring now?" My hand returns to normal in a half-assed attempt at calming her down, though I still keep my distance. Seeing rough, dark red flesh turn back into regular ol’ scarred skin doesn't seem to help, so…shit.

"Look, I-I thought you were in danger, and you've got a kid for Christ's sake! I can't have that on my conscience!"

"Uh-huh, and that kid is trying to sleep," I whisper and point my thumb at the window.

Mia leans to see before immediately retreating closer to the back.

"…You've got the AC on, right?"

I glare at her, "No, I'm actually letting him die of heatstroke in the car—yes, I've got the fucking AC on, you're not his mom."

"Yeah, but I knew his mom. Do you seriously think you're the only one grieving?"

"But you didn't do shit. All you did was shelter her; you held her back-"

"And I guess I was right to! I mean, Jesus, Cole, why did I ever let her around you?"

Like a bullet to the chest, an all too familiar sensation.

"You…You didn't…" Damn, do I really not have a comeback to that?

"I didn't what? Her family shut the door in my face when I asked where you were, I-I just wanted…" She stammers.

My face softens, the glow fading from my eyes as she tries to wipe her tears before they fall too far down her face

"I didn't wanna lose her so soon."

A sense of embarrassment latches onto my mind, more at myself than her.

"Once I get my answers, I'll leave, I'll leave and never tell anyone."

I…I still dunno if I can trust her. I tried doing that with Anna, and look where that got me. Christ, Mia could get killed just for being here!

What am I gonna do? How the hell am I-

Cole, breathe.

The thought's instant but lingering, pushing to the forefront of my mind, past all the fuming anger waiting to reach a boiling point. My sympathy starts to outweigh all that rage, unfortunately.

"Fine, I'll explain. I, uh…I gotta keep an eye on Nova, though, so we should have this talk inside."

She scans the car through the nearly blacked-out windows and reluctantly nods. Soon after, I hop into the driver's seat opposite her. A sigh escapes me once the car door shuts with a restrained slam.

"Alright, so…"

***

Mia stares with the most obvious disbelief on her face I've ever seen once I finish. I look at the time on the screen between us; took me 20 minutes to explain, new record.

"…Any questions?" I say, trying to hide the humiliation in my voice once I realize her expression isn't going away.

"You're…So he's…?" She says with apocalyptic, barely contained panic behind her eyes.

"Yep, much as I really, really don't want him to be."

"How much, though?"

"No clue, enough to catch B.E.D.'s eye, I guess."

"I…Ok." She says, a little high-pitched as she turns to stare out the windshield.

"You get why I'm hesitant to trust you, right?"

"Yeah, can you give me a sec? I-I think I need a bit to process."

"Can you process all that a little sooner?

Her frightened, confused expression turns into a glare.

I resist the cringing spreading across my face. "Sorry, just…It's late and I can't stay in one spot for too long."

She leans against her propped-up hand, trying to wipe the sweat off her clammy palms and slick forehead.

"I let all this happen, I-I could get killed just for knowing you! Why didn't she…?" She whispers.

"Why didn't she what?"

"Nothing, I…I gotta go."

I grunt, my eyes flashing red in a burst of paranoia as I reach for the car lock. Its sudden click makes Mia freeze.

"Seriously, Cole? You think I'm with them?" She turns to me with nothing but contempt on her face.

"Wouldn't put it past you. What were you gonna say?"

She starts yanking the handle to no avail.

"It doesn't matter, this isn't funny-"

"Finish what you were gonna s-"

"Why the hell did she have a kid with you?!" She shouts, her head whipping around to face me with burning rage written all over her face.

Now that doesn't faze me, typical bullshit she'd spit just to get a rise out of me. It's the tiny groan from the cradle that makes my fists clench

She turns to a slowly awakening Nova, and a glint of guilt immediately shows in her softening eyes.

I recline my seat and rush to my son. My red glow already starts flashing when he sniffles, subduing his incoming cries.

"It's ok, it's ok…" I pick him up, hold him close to my chest, and completely ignore Mia in the process.

I hope this makes her feel worse. She's lucky I didn't knock all her fuckin' teeth ou-

No, no. Gotta keep my promise. I can be that pissed at her. I've got every right to, but I can't let it take the wheel, not like before…

"Cole, I-"

I grunt, which is enough to shut her up as I set an increasingly sleepy Nova back into his cradle.

"She was my only friend, ok?"

Like a furnace, spitting fire from inside my chest.

"Yeah, welcome to the club. If you cared so much about her, why didn't you do anything to help us? Why did everyone ignore me, ignore him?" My increasingly red eyes dart to Nova, then back to Mia.

Her glare starts to unfurl. "They didn't know you, Cole. You barely talked to anyone besides her; plus, none of us knew if you even wanted help-"

"I thought helping people was your job? Or does it only matter when you're getting paid?" I hiss, trying to stay below a whisper.

"You're one to fucking talk. Selling your organs to some black market scumbags? When you have a kid? You know damn well what they could do to you and your son." She jabs at a similar volume.

"I did it to support him just like I did for her, all the while you were too busy treating her like a kid."

"Because she was just a kid! She was a kid stuck in a world that hated her for existing, and all of a sudden I'm the bad guy for trying to protect her from some…some douchebag?"

"Some douchebag—you think she'd spend most of her life with some douchebag?"

"I-I don't know, ok? I don't know who you had to become to get your hooks into her." She crosses her arms.

"What, is treating her like a person too suspicious when it's not from you? I accepted her, so she accepted me. Is that so fucking hard to understand?"

"Or maybe she was scared to speak out. I'd certainly be if I were in her shoes."

"But you weren't, you never were. She…She was all I had; I didn't feel safe anywhere else but with her, and now she's gone, she's gone and you act like I wasn't just as blindsided by it. Months of goddamn tests, and nothing."

"Well she had to have some suspicions if she did all this research behind your back. Why weren't you helping her? You didn't stop and think she was at risk? That it-"

Fucking-

My hand mutates. Hardened tissue trails up my arms as I grip her wrist.

"Do not call him an it; that's my son you're talking about."

She lets out a stuttering breath, her numbing hand trembling.

"I-I wasn't talki-"

Then, a sound beyond us, like a rumbling beast on the prowl.

My head turns a little further than it should to see the back window.

Blinding lights next to Mia's car, and two familiar faces behind them, like the eyes of an anglerfish behind its dangling lure.

My hand slips off Mia's arm and grips the gear shift. The minivan jumps to life with a roar as I flatten the accelerator.

Mia shifts at the sudden burst of speed as our vehicle dashes out of the mess of trees and onto the cracked road.

"My fucking car!" She pulls herself to look back, only to see that shitty hunk of scrap tailing us.

"You led them to me," I murmur.

"Or maybe they heard you yapping up a storm! I only just found out you're being hunted by some government assassins or whatever the hell they are!"

"You were the one yelling, and maybe you should keep it down for the baby on board."

"And that baby isn't safe right now! Do you at least have a booster seat?" She argues with a hand on Nova's cradle.

"Ah, shit. Get him fastened," I say with a sigh of realization.

She rolls her eyes but scrambles to do it nonetheless.

I glance at the rearview mirror. Quinn's gaze is wide, too wide. He almost looks more surprised than predatory with his flat, motionless mouth.

Meanwhile Anna's poking her upper half out the wi…Wait, the fuck's Anna doing here? I turn back to see—does she have a gun-

Zzzip.

The sound's loud but not enough to make my ears ring. It still makes me flinch as another bullet shatters the side view mirror. Mia winces even harder at it.

Nova gasps from his newly fastened booster seat. I groan, knowing he's gonna start crying. Mia keeps him distracted with attempted silly faces and words of assurance he doesn't understand.

Anna's gonna run out of ammo at some point. Looks like some kind of pistol-

A slam from behind.

It yanks me forward, pressing my chest against the wheel and making the minivan let out a short honk. I straighten as soon as I hear it.

Quinn's car loses some speed after hitting us. It doesn't disrupt his wide gaze and increasingly shark-like smile, though.

I veer off into the other lane. No other cars so far; can't let anyone else get hurt.

"Is this that Quinn guy?" Mia says, tucked between Nova's seat and the passenger seat.

"Uh, yeah!" I reply. Dizziness sets in as my vision darts back and forth from the road to the rear.

Dizzy? When's the last time I felt dizzy?

Then, lights ahead of us.

A mass of steel, roaring.

One last look behind. Dead, brown eyes stare back.

I Swerve.

My tires squeal as I catch a flash of Quinn and Anna's shocked faces before they veer off the road and into the rocky, green wilderness beyond it.

The truck, our unintentional savior, seems undamaged as it zooms away, with a driver who's probably pissed their pants.

I turn to the road ahead as I catch my breath, my eyes trailing up the veins of asphalt that stretch just as endlessly.

Mia gasps for breath, holding onto the ceiling handle for dear life.

"You, uh…you ok?" I say.

"M-Mhm. Nova's not hurt as far as I can tell," She pants, the exhaustion in her voice returning.

So much adrenaline fizzling away like air from a tire, it almost makes me forget about our argument.

"I'm gonna keep my eyes peeled for any motels, and um, any gas stations. We'll stop there and get our bearings."

"My car's still back there!"

"And so're those guys!"

"I-I don't think they saw me. Can't you just bring me back?"

My grip tightens on the wheel. "Yeah, but they're gonna see me, though."

"So? They're just after you, right? You said they don't kill people!"

"I said they don't usually kill people, and seeing how one of them just tried to blow my brains out, I'm gonna start taking that with a grain of salt."

"But you can heal from headshots, right?"

"I…Look, I don't know if I can grow my brain back. Plus, I've got too much on the line to take that risk."

Mia opens her mouth to protest, but ultimately purses her lips and hops into the passenger's seat after checking on Nova.

Speaking of which, he seems…fine? He's pointing and babbling at the moon like he does at everything that catches his innocent little eye. Probably thought this was all just some silly game, hopefully.

***

It takes us about five minutes to find a motel. Looks decent enough for a night, if a bit rugged.

"'Kay, you can go book a room and I'll sleep in here." I turn back to face her once we stop in the cluttered parking lot. The building's harsh orange and yellow lights make her squint.

"…You sure you don't want a room?" She glances at Nova, probably to avoid the bright neon vomit radiating from the motel.

"Nah—too exposed."

"…So you'll let Nova cook in the car?"

"I'm not—I have the AC on." I gesture loosely to one of the tiny vents.

"You're gonna be out of gas by morning if you keep it running."

"I know. I've got a canister in the trunk for a reason."

"You think one canister is gonna get you to Charleston?"

I huff, turning away once I realize a response isn't coming to me again.

"…Fine. I can pay for the rooms, just gimme a sec…" I grunt and start rummaging through the center console.

Fake ID…broken phone charger…so much garbage I didn't even know-

There.

I yank out a wad of cash and hold it in front of Mia. There's apprehension on her face, but she grabs it nonetheless. Surprise becomes obvious in her gaze when she sees a bold "100" on both wrinkled flaps of paper.

"…Where'd you get this?"

"Organs."

"Oh, which ones?" She says nonchalantly enough to catch me off guard.

"I-I, uh, I think that's how much a pancreas costs?"

She looks at the money, then back at me.

"I think they're scamming you."

"How much do hospitals pay for 'em, then?"

"How would I know?"

"You're a nurse, right?"

She holds back a chuckle. "Cole, do you seriously think a nurse…never mind…"

"Look, I dunno how your job works. Are you heading inside or not?"

She finally lets out a laugh, though it's more like an exhale.

"Mhm, change the topic aaall you want."

I roll my eyes as she walks inside the reception…lobby…whatever it is.

I unbuckle and let all my humiliation and stress out in one long sigh. Everything starts to relax and loosen, every muscle, every nerve, every…

Sudden taps on the roof make me flinch, then another, and another. Blurry dots begin to litter the windows.

Rain? Seriously?

A grunt makes all that anger return. Nova and rain don't mix well, and I'd rather not spend the next couple hours trying to calm him down.

Mia storms out of the motel, flipping the receptionist off before slamming the door. The blurry glass inside its metal frame wobbles a bit as its chime lets out a grating jingle; I wasn't paying enough attention to notice what unfolded.

"…How'd it go?"

"Take a guess." She says.

"Was he bein' a jackass?"

Confusion accompanies the rage in her eyes.

"He just—He said there was only one room, and I called bullshit because I saw two more keys on the rack. Then this asshole threatens to call the cops without skipping a beat the second I get above a whisper."

"Sounds rough. This place looks pretty packed, though. I can just sleep in the car if you need the privacy."

"Don't you want Nova to be safe? Can't you go convince him to give us the other key?"

I raise a brow, but her intentions hit me after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

I sigh, "Yeah, I'm sure killing him is gonna solve everything; are you insane?"

"I didn't mean that! Just…look scary, or whatever the hell you do."

Guess not.

"You think I'm neck-deep in shit just because I look scary? He's just gonna call the cops anyway, and all that's gonna do is point B.E.D. in the right direction. He probably just had a spare key for the same room."

A hint of embarrassment and realization accompanies her averted gaze.

"…Fine, we can just share a room." She mutters, rushing off.

I shrug in response, though it doesn't help her brush off the humiliation written all over her face.

The rain's getting denser, hitting harder against my car. I groan in preparation for Nova's sniffling and incoming tears.

I flash my eyes at him as I hold him in one arm and his cradle in the other. To my surprise, he doesn't quiet down. I try not to wince at the sounds he makes; I-It just tugs at my heart hearing him sound so scared.

The groan of our room's door makes me speed up my walk inside. A shiny "8" nailed to its chipped, white exterior reflects off the soft light of what looks like a lamp.

The pouring rain gets quieter once I'm inside, even more so once I shut the entrance with my foot.

A sudden, sharp whine from Nova spooks me a little. Makes sense, being inside didn't make the rain any less scary for him back home.

I hold him in front of me with both my outstretched arms. Our son's cries die down, but not enough to make me think he's calmed down all the way.

With an exhausted, dead serious face, I flare the color in my eyes at him.

He gives a tiny but energetic laugh. Now it works? Guess he needs to see me dead-on for it to soothe him.

After a couple seconds of repeating it, his giggles die down. Then he just…starts grunting and curls up a little.

I raise a brow and hold him closer to me, half-cradling him in my arm.

Suddenly, it appears again: a soft glow of red in his irises. He keeps trying to maintain it, continuing to grunt and clench his little fists before giving up entirely.

"Is he constipated, or…?" Mia says from the back of the room.

My eyes dart to see her sitting comfortably on a decent-sized bed in the room's right half. There's another one next to it with sufficient distance between them.

"He's trying to make his eyes glow. Only ever saw him do it once or twice before, uh…" I trail off, turning to our only window left of me, curtained. Looks cozy enough for a night or two as long as we keep our heads low.

"Before what?"

I barely shake my head, but it's enough to make her nod and stop prodding for answers.

Two trips from the car later, and we're settled in for the night. Mia shrugs off her jacket and deflates onto her bed with a sigh. Been there, I'm probably still there, to be honest.

Nova's napping in his cradle, but I'm betting the rain's gonna wake him up soon. I take advantage of his sleeping to heat his formula in the flickering microwave. It's on this shitty countertop across from the bathroom, all crammed into a much narrower section in the back of the room.

After a moment, my unintentional hunching starts to come with a sharp ache in the back of my neck. A couple grunts and slow attempts to straighten my posture catch Mia's eye.

"You're gonna mess up your back if you slouch like that for long enough."

I turn to her with lowered eyelids. Even Julia joked that I hunch over like an old man sometimes.

"Yeah, thanks for the advice. Can already feel myself gettin' younger." I roll my eyes.

"I'm guessing your whole super healing thing can't fix crappy posture?"

I resist a chuckle. "I don't have much time on my hands when I'm not keeping an eye on him."

"…So he's your burden?"

My fingers curl, twitching with building anger. A tiny trail of red is left in the wake of my nails scraping against the counter's plastic surface.

"Do not call him that."

"I didn't mean it like that. We're all burdens to someone; it's just how we work." She says and scoots to the end of her bed.

My hands loosen a bit. Sounds a little too depressing to be true, but hey, sounds like she's talking from experience. Misery does play a pretty big role in her job, so…I'll try to hear her out.

"Go on," I say as my hands flatten and arms loosen.

"You know, people just…we need networks. Strong, weak, small, big, doesn't matter. No man's an island and all that."

I scowl. "I had to be an island, and I managed to make it this far."

"…And from how you describe it, you barely made it out in one piece. Sure, some of us can be alone for a bit, but we're never islands forever, and you aren't some magical exception just because you can regrow your lungs or whatever. I've seen a million patients think the same way you do, and most of them end up dead or wors-"

D-D-Ding.

It's a glitchy, ear-piercing sound that makes me flinch. I yank Nova's formula out of the microwave and slam it closed just so the damn thing shuts up.

I focus back on her, tightening my grip as the heat of Nova's bottle seeps into my palm.

I walk past her with a grimace when Nova coos from his cradle.

"You're falling apart, Cole. You need people to help you out."

"And look where that fucking got me." I snarl with red flaring in my exhausted gaze.

Yet, she barely reacts. No flinching, no wide eyes, just sympathy and a hint of disappointment on her face.

Her expression hits me like a bag of bricks to the skull. Past all the hate and panic and grief, there's a glimmer of kindness, much as I hate to admit it.

"I…I gotta bathe Nova. Come get me if anyone suspicious comes by." I say and lift Nova out of his cradle to feed him.

Her words stick to my mind like a searing hot brand. I-I need a bit to think about it. Nova does need washing up, though.

Mia sighs, nods, and lies down on her side. She yanks her jacket up to use as a blanket, letting it nearly consume her.

Her whole body's been quivering since the car chase. It sparks some empathy in me as I walk past her once Nova's done being fed. Such a sudden feeling's hard to grasp, especially when angrier thoughts try to snuff it out

Everything about her feels so exhausted, so lonely. That kind of pain's familiar.

I saw it when Julia got word of her dad's death. I felt it when…when she closed her eyes for the last time.

Nova taps my chest with a weak hand. I look down to see him looking kinda…queasy?

"Buddy…" I murmur and kiss the side of his fuzzy-haired head. He replies with a gag, which only makes me worry even more.

Is something wrong with his formula? Have I just not been feeding him enough? Jesus, I should've been paying more atten-

Cole, Breathe.

I do so, or at least try to, as I start patting Nova's back. If that doesn't work, then I can panic.

Nova lets tiny coughs and grunts. Poor guy just didn't like his food, I guess. Happens to every baby.

My concerns return when his sounds come with a strong gargle in his throat. Whatever he's spitting out, there's gonna be a lot of it.

In a haze of adrenaline, I yank off the covers of my bed and drag them below us with my foot. I furrow my brow and hope what Nova's throwing up doesn't look too noticeable on the blanket's wrinkly white fabric. On the other hand, I'm not gonna be here long enough to face the consequences if I make a mes-

Then it happens.

He throws his head forward and vomits with an almost cartoonish "Bleh"

Steam, no, smoke.

A split second later: stinging.

I look down to see an acidic, brownish-red liquid dripping down my chest, leaving a dark streak down my sleeveless red hoodie. Blood and dissolving flesh collect in its streaks. I even see bits of my ribcage past the bubbling, sizzling burns.

I blink and dart my wide eyes to Nova, who's…completely fine? T-The vomit didn't hit his skin or clothes, thank god, but there's an obvious red stain on his mouth.

He slouches into the crook of my neck and makes a little "Ah?" sound like he didn't just throw up a bunch of biomass-acid-whatever-the-hell.

The liquid finally pools in tiny puddles below me. Red veins pulse inside its rapidly dissolving droplets as it eats away at the stained navy carpet.

I finally remember to breathe and my thoughts turn a little clearer. A couple words manage to weasel their way up my parched throat, too:

"What…What the fuck?"

Chapter Text

2002

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Constant, droning, soothing. Like a comforting embrace around each and all of Mia's thoughts. A single blink made her eyes water, blurring the pale face that stared back from a hospital bed.

"Morning, or whatever time it is." She mumbled to herself.

As for the patient, all he let out was a groan, shutting his eyes in the process.

"Looking pretty sunny today, huh?" She smirked and leaned beside him.

No response came as she hooked up his IV line to the newly placed bag that dangled above him. Plastic tube after plastic tube; it was all so monotonous, yet she managed by thinking aloud with simple jokes, notes about the weather, the like.

One such comment made him chuckle, or at least try to. Mia cringed at the pain he must feel from his damaged throat as he wheezed, healing muscles tensing, bulging at the seams.

He was nearly killed in a pileup three days ago, one she herself almost got caught in on her way to pick up Julia. He came out of that wreck with an esophageal laceration, a degloved arm up to the elbow, fractures in both shins, and, to top it all off, abrasions splattered across any skin that could've been exposed when he was hit.

Task after task unfolded before her eyes: first his Foley catheter, then applying new bandages, then adjusting his knee immobilizers. It was all a blur, like his face, like all the others.

Once she got to his head, she held her tongue, which made his brown eyes squint with confusion. She swallowed dryly and continued with her routine, narrowing her gaze to specific parts of his face rather than the bigger picture. The whir of machinery helped fill the gaps where her one-sided banter once stood. Such white noise worked wonders for her focus.

A few more dozen tasks later, and all that remained was his trach. Just another tube, right? Only that one required a more gentle approach; Mia nearly started sweating at the thought. That was the key to her job: tenderness, though not too much, lest it could turn into attachment.

One little slip, and he'll stop breathing.

She tried to hide the trembling in her fingers as she tested the device's security. An imaginary nightmare scenario played out in her head, the repetitive beeps replaced by a flat, haunting drone.

All that comfort, all the life behind his eyes, gon-

Tight. The relief quieted her heart.

"Good…good…" Mia forced a smile to distract him from her sigh of relief.

Her patient rolled his eyes and lowered, lying flat and loosening at her short laugh.

"Everything's normal, or, uh…as normal as they can be. I'll be right outside if you need me, s-" She paused on her way out, blanking on his name. Shame rammed into her like a stake to the nec-

Not too much.

Mia simply flashed another smile, inched her way to the other side of his cramped room, and slid the curtain entrance open. The clink of silver hooks nearly masked the hum of a phone in her pocket on her way out. She swore once she felt it.

Other nurses shot puzzled looks on their way past her in the hall, which sparked a glint of regret as she scrambled to answer the call; what was a nurse doing between checkups if it wasn't to smoke or tick off another task on an endless to-do list?

They're going to think she's slacking off and report her, get her-

Beep!

Internal silence at last—no more catastrophizing for the time being.

"Julia? What, uh…what's the matter?" Mia sighed, nearly adding an "I'm busy," and hanging up out of pure muscle memory.

"Mia! Mia, I-I'm gonna be late!" Her friend panted with desperate footsteps in the background.

In an instant, all that calmness sloughed off her like melted skin. She sighed at the worst-case scenarios that formed in her head, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Don't tell me—I told you I had a new schedule. How far is the bus?"

"The bus…The bus is out of the fucking question!" Julia heaved and seemingly stopped.

"Where are you? Have you tried the one near Leo's?"

"Yeah, I tried. Some…Some dick tried taking my stuff on my way in so I booked it and now I have to-"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down, just…just breathe, dude. Find somewhere to sit; are you somewhere safe, at least?"

"I-I-I don't know, I don't know! Shit, Shit!" Julia stammered as a short, stumbling sound made Mia's heart sink.

"It's 7:30, Dr. Lillian's class is in 20 minutes and that guy hates hates me. I'm gonna flunk his class if I miss another one. Jesuuuuus, why did…" She trailed off with stuttering heaves.

"…Julia?"

"I, uh, I think Cole's not too far from here. I'll get him to drive me."

"What—fuck no!" Mia yelped, which only caught more eyes in the ICU hallway.

Too late; more footsteps on the other end of the call. 

"Julia, you just need to bite the bullet. You aren't gonna be any safer around him!"

"You don't know that! You haven't even met him!"

"Christ, just because he listens to you doesn't mean he has your best interest at hea…why do I hear traffic? Are you near the laundromat?" Mia hissed to no reply.

The rocky concrete scraped against Julia's shoes as she approached Cole's decrepit car at the edge of the parking lot. A familiar sight, one she'd been seeing once a week for the past month.

"Seriously, you're putting yourself in danger, I'm-"

A quiet beep cut Mia off. Julia shoved her phone away soon after.

Tap tap tap. The sound was gentle, yet still managed to catch Cole's attention. His dark eyes fluttered open before widening at the sight of her. Not entirely due to panic, mostly out of relief.

She clenched her satchel's strap at his sudden squirm into the spotless driver's seat. The front half's cleanliness only made the backseat's clutter all the more shocking to her; junk and clothes piled up and up, nearly covering the rear window.

"What, uh…whaddya need?" Cole yawned, the first half of his sentence muffled as the passenger's seat window rolled down.

"SoI'mgonnabelatetoclasscanyoudrivemethereIt'sfineifyoucan'tIjustdon'twanttofail."

He blinked at her panicked, million-word-a-second mumble. The moment of silence between them nearly made a cringe spread across her face before the car unlocked with a thunk.

"Where do I gotta go?"

Julia's eyes lit up, and a messy string of names came after she hopped into the passenger's seat. He shrugged, processing them easily enough.

The car started with a stuttering rumble soon after. She flinched, which nearly made him do the same.

"I know, this thing's a real piece of shit. I'll be quick, though; you said it's at the uh…the department of physics and…?"

"Department of physics and astronomy, yeah!" Julia quickly nodded.

Cole flashed a thumbs-up and drove off with a gentle pressure against the accelerator, though only after he helped yank her seatbelt into its holster. Little issues like that collected in her head, fueling worry and worse: regret. Her attempts at hiding it only made him raise a brow.

"Everythin' alright?"

"Mhm," she said with her gaze locked onto her feet; looking at her bag, and therefore her phone, brought too many flashes of guilt.

"I'll call her when I get there…"

"Huh?"

"I-uh, nothing." She leaned onto the window—sturdy, yet vibrating against the side of her head. A dark blue sky stared back with a vague reflection of the car's interior. Alongside it was her own shame-stricken face.

Cole took notice through glances at stoplights. Not a word out of his mouth, though; Julia loosened at that.

What was behind his eyes? Was it understanding? Was it disgust? Like an unsolvable equation, it almost drove her mad.

Unreadable, like everyone else.

"You need me to do this tomorrow, too, or…?" he said once their environment grew more familiar to her.

She took a moment to respond, half out of humiliation, half out of pondering. Would he barrage her with questions? Could she answer even half of them while keeping her privacy, well, private?"

"Probably…" she sighed, still not looking him in the eye. No offense appeared on his face like always.

"'Kay. You need me to park closer next time?"

Her brows furrowed with shock, expecting more, but-

"Y-Yeah; the laundromat's kind of a jog." She nervously chuckled despite her own thoughts screaming at her. Mia's warnings blared in her ears, even as Julia gave him a slightly inaccurate address—exactly the fourth building left of hers.

Cole nodded along as they stopped in a dime-a-dozen parking lot. She straightened in response, letting her sight wander to the much more familiar environment around them.

The recognition wasn't a pleasant feeling as she nearly sneered at the architecture of her college: a disgusting clash of ornate and modern buildings. Brutalism stood out through looming, older structures, neither of which sparked joy in Julia's heart. It was all just so…miserable. And old.

She clenched her jaw and pulled out her phone to check the time: five minutes until class.

"I don't got much to be doin', so I, uh…I guess I'll be waitin' here until you're done." Cole slid his hands behind his head and leaned back.

"I'd find somewhere off-campus for that; they charge you fifty bucks for looking at a parking spot funny," Julia said as she ducked out of the car. Once she flipped her phone open, a thought struck like lightning and widened her eyes.

"Shit, right!"

She zipped around to face Cole again, leaning forward into the open window of the passenger's seat.

"You got a phone?"

Cole raised his head and nodded after a moment of hesitation.

Pursed lips—the most joy she could physically express.

"Nice, sooo you can call me at…and…" She snatched a pen off his dashboard and…no paper. Her furrowed brows and darting eyes prompted him to grunt in realization.

A second of a swear left her tongue befo-

Skin. Scarred skin.

Julia blinked, recognizing it to be Cole's exposed forearm. Pink lines and dots littered tan-ish flesh.

She looked to him, who just stared with his typical relaxed expression.

"Write on me."

Her eyebrows lifted a little. "What?"

"I don't got any paper, so write it on me. S' not gonna hurt." he hovered his arm closer.

The willingness helped convince her, despite the limb's disturbing texture. Said creeping emotion turned into confusion, then into fascination, all within a second as she began to write.

His sharp exhale made her slow down, only for him to clear his throat and get her back to writing. She winced, but managed to write her number down despite the reddened skin and arm hairs that interrupted the ink's otherwise consistent form.

She sighed and tossed the pen in his lap. A scoff was expected, maybe even a glare, but all she got was a smirk as he admired her handiwork.

"Nice handwriting," Cole said.

A rush of warmth; not exactly soothing, but pleasant to her nonetheless.

"…For a leftie?" She struggled to smile back, especially after the rush of humiliation that came once the words left her mouth.

"For havin' to write on skin."

The edges of her mouth curved, nearly microscopic as she backed away.

"Thanks, Cole! I get out at two!" She gave a short wave before rushing past hordes of other students. A bright yellow jacket flapped in the wind, only visible in flashes before it disappeared entirely.

Cole's smile refused to falter as he stared down at his arm. A jet black set of numbers stared back, almost like a tattoo.

"No red. Nice."

Julia, on the other hand, pressed her flip phone against her ear with a sigh. Crowds upon crowds suffocated her throughout her trek; such overstimulation would only make her words hurt worse.

"This is Mia Nguyen. If you’re hearing this. I'm either busy or dead, so please leave a message," A flat, tired voice spoke before a beep.

"H-Hey, I made it to class! Got there in one piece with Cole's help! I, um…I'm sorry for flipping out, but I'm pretty sure he's gonna be driving me now, at least whenever the bus isn't an option. I…I hope you're doing ok and I-I hope this takes some weight off your shoulders. Bye," She immediately flicked it closed with a pained wince, growing quieter with every step closer to her class.

Warmth and coldness, comfort and shame, tugging her in two different directions, ripping her apart. The cacophony of emotions nearly made her head split.

That could wait, though; no point in lingering until the proper time came to talk. All she could act on, for the time being, was getting to class on time.

***

2018

"What…What the fuck?" I pant, my heart racing, pounding in my ears. H-How…?

Smoke clouds my eyes, worsening the room's aged stench. I look up to see it spiral onto the textured ceiling before descending to the rest of the room. It hits my face like a thin veil; Mia seems to feel it too, woken up by the single squeak of the cracked fire alarm above,

"The hell…What the hell?!" She slurs, then yelps as her widening eyes try to take it all in.

Her darting gaze eventually lands on me. I give a subtle shrug and a panicked stare.

She frowns and leaps off her bed, waving away the smoke as she approaches Nova.

My arms tense when she resists a cough. Nova replies with a puzzled coo and concern spreading across his chubby face.

When Mia's hand lifts to his chin, I take an instant step back. All she gets is a half-scowl from me as her arm becomes outstretched.

"You are not touching him."

"Seriously? Just—at least open the window for him, dumbass!" She says, yanking it open with one hand and covering her mouth with the other. The glass wobbles in its white, chipped frame as the smoke spills out, taking its suffocating aura with it. Rain replaces it in sound and smell.

Our gasps for breath nearly match in pace, mine being more out of relief than survival. Can't say the same about Mia, though.

She wipes her teary eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Just…tell me what happened."

"Well, uh, Nova looked like he was gonna throw up after I fed him…" I say, shutting the window when Nova whines at the weather outside. He's been through enough tonight.

"Did you burp him?"

"I was gonna do that before he just…spat up a bunch of acid. Burnt a couple holes through me and the carpet." I gesture to the black-outlined holes in my clothes and fresh burn marks along my torso.

She replies with a skeptical, furrowed face.

"None of it got on him, but there's this fuckin' stain on his mouth." I gently wipe my thumb along his chin, only for the mark to wrinkle and crack from the gentlest pressure I can muster. My finger immediately retracts; chances are it's sticking to his skin, and trying to get it off could hurt like hell.

Mia takes a cautious step towards me and kneels to investigate the red smear from multiple angles. She's not close enough to make me antsy, but I pull Nova closer to my chest, just to be safe.

"You said it dissolved the carpet?"

"See for yourself," I say.

She rotates and crouches. My heartbeat spikes when she slides her finger along the crimson-stained layer of stone beneath the burnt holes in the floor.

"The hell're you doing?"

"Vomit takes forever to dry if it's not cleaned, but..." She brings her fingertip closer to see the layer of brittle red flakes coating it.

"Guessin' you got a lot of experience in that department?" I try to joke. Her reaction, or lack thereof, just makes me avert my gaze to avoid the inevitable tidal wave of embarrassment.

"Yeah, I also do other stuff at my job, Cole. It's not all just cleaning up shit and vomit," She says with enough sharpness to cut steel.

"But that's pretty common, right?"

"Besides that, I have to, y'know, administer medication, make sure people're comfortable, all the bullshit everyone else is either too squeamish or too busy to do. Julia loves asking-" She pauses.

What little joy's on her face slips off, now replaced with a grimace. With it comes this…this grief, wrapping its hands around my neck.

"She, um…I always got some gross question every time I picked her up—made all those miserable shifts easier to get over."

Its grip tightens.

I purse my lips and reach out to pat her shoulder. Not the most helpful thing to do, but-

"Do you seriously think you're the only one grieving?"

I freeze up, clenching my fist as her words replay in my head over and over. Does she think I gave away Julia's ashes for no reason? That I slaughtered a bunch of B.E.D.'s goons for fun? What the fuck does she know-

A restrained sniffle kills off that rush of anger and adrenaline. I look down to see Nova dozing off, barely making a peep. Part of me wants to assume it came from him and move on.

But Sympathy just has to tip the scales again, doesn't it?

I brace myself for the inevitable flood of unpleasant memories, but all I see is Julia, sitting next to me in some rotting laundromat.

The weight of a fuckin' building slid off my shoulders the first time I heard her rambling and sifting through her textbook. Behind a pair of round glasses and dark brown eyes, all I saw was the relief of finally finding someone to talk to. No ulterior motives, no disgust, no nothing.

I see that same kind of pressure on Mia, and it's starting to crush her.

We don't have to be friends; hell, we can go right back to hating each other's guts once we figure out what's wrong with Nova. But I'm not gonna sit around and watch her fall apart like everyone did with me.

I shift Nova to fit in one arm as I sit next to Mia with a grunt. Her sniffling's getting worse, even as she tries to hide it with her hand. Tears leave a trail of dark dots on her shirt.

My hand hovers over her shoulder for a moment.

"Do you seriously think you're the only one grieving?"

Recalling it just makes me bite the bullet and pat her back.

It's a gentle motion despite how quickly it happens. The tendons, the nerves, they're practically vibrating under her skin; so much fear, all bottled up in a mind at its breaking point.

She flinches and I nearly do too, especially when her teary-eyed gaze locks onto me. I-I shouldn't have done that, should've just let her get it out of her system, what the hell was I-

"Th-Thanks."

I exhale out of pure instinct; was I holding my breath this whole time?

She finishes wiping her tears as her trembling goes away—mostly.

"I-I never had to do this…this balancing act with her. I could just…care about her…"

I lift a brow, even as I give another soft pat.

"All the death, all the fucking loneliness. It just ate me alive, and I took it out on her, on you," She chokes and slouches onto both of her knees.

Her head lowers, eyes darkening.

I attempt to blink away the incoming tears; it's this bubbling, rising heat that's approaching up my throat. Hate comes to mind when I try to come up with comparisons, but this feeling's a little…softer.

"You wanted to protect her, right?"

She nods, still staring into space.

"I get it. Usually, uh, comes with good intentions. But sometimes all it does is make you more antsy, more pissed off," I say and glance down at Nova.

Another pat makes her head lift a little as some of the exhaustion on her face fades.

"…You wanna talk about somethin' else? Take your mind off it?"

Nova makes a sudden yawn and stretches his arms, making her chuckle.

"He looks happy." She sniffles, smirking.

I'll take that as a yes.

"Yeah, I…I hope he is. Didn't seem all that phased when he threw up, at least—you got any clue what's wrong with him?"

Her eyes widen a bit, "Right, shit."

"It's alright if you don't-"

"No, no, I-I think I've got a solid enough theory."

My hand slides off her shoulder, adding further support to Nova's slouching body in my arms.

"Let's hear it then," I say.

She holds out her finger, still stained with brittle, dark red flakes.

"Can you mutate any bodily fluids? Urine, stomach acid, anything?"

"I could try. Sounds kinda hard, though; never seen any red veins in my piss before."

"Veins?" She winces and furrows her brows. Now she's grossed out? The ICU nurse?

I sigh, "Saw 'em in his vomit before it dissolved."

"You couldn't have told me that earlier?"

"I was a little busy with the acid spit filling the place with smoke. Plus, I'm not sure I could mutate liquids anyway; if it's not connected to any blood vessels, I can't mutate it. S'why I can sell my organs."

"…So any mutated cells die when they're cut off?"

My eyes drift to Nova for a bit before locking back onto her.

"Never thought about it that way, but yeah, that tracks."

"Got it…" She glances back and forth between Nova and the stains.

Her silence only makes me tense up, filling my lungs with strangling stress and countless questions. It makes the room's ambience pierce my ears now that our conversation can't drown it out.

Buzzing, rattling, humming.

I hate it, I hate it.

What the hell's wrong with my kid? ̴I̸s̸ ̷h̴e̴ ̷h̶u̸r̸t̵i̸n̷g̵? G̴̳͂i̶̠͠v̵̻͒e̵͕̿ ̴̗̔m̸̮͌ë̵̗ ̶͖͐ȃ̴̺ ̸̲̎s̵̱͆t̸͍͊ŗ̵̾a̶̠͑i̵̫̍g̷͉̍h̸̘̔ẗ̵̹ ̴̯̚f̷̣̍ȗ̸͓c̸̫͋k̷̕ͅi̷͈͆ǹ̶̞g̴̣̒ ̵͍̌a̴̬̿n̸̘͋s̵̩̐ẁ̶̮ê̸̼r̵̬͝ ̶͖̈f̸̭̋o̸̹͛r̸̲̈ ̴̠̿o̵͎͝n̶̪͋c̷̰͘-̸̲̇

Cole, breathe.

I let out a reluctant sigh, resisting the increasingly red glow in my eyes. Give her time, give her time. She's not a neurosurgeon or some shit.

"Can anything provoke you to mutate? Is that how it usually happens?"

I shrug, "I mean, sometimes. You saw my arm contort back in the woods, yeah?"

She nods, albeit with a subtle shudder.

"That's more like me choosing to mutate. It's just…I dunno how to describe it. If I…get shot, let's say, and it heals, that's more like a bodily reaction. You don't tell your body to heal a papercut."

"…Have you ever tried piercing your ears?"

I give back a puzzled look.

"The scars on your earlobes—is that how you got them?"

My hand lifts to one of them, and a subtle sting in its center comes with a flash of memories.

I wince, both at the pain and at the image of nineteen-year-old me carving holes in my ears with no assistance in an alley. I did it at night too, the hell was I thinking? Matter of fact, I'm pretty sure it was raining, too. Heard footsteps and minded my own business before I heard someone fall, and…seein-

"…Cole?"

I blink and focus back on Mia.

"I-I, uh, yeah, tried doing it by myself. What's this gotta do with Nova?"

Her eyes drift before locking onto me with firm confidence on her face. My body loosens at the sight of it.

Fuckin' finally; one less thing I have to worry about once I'm back on the ro-

"It's acid reflux." She deadpans.

…What?

I tilt my head a little with a half-scowl.

"That's all you got?"

She glares in kind. Our stare lasts for a second or two, making both of us tense with rising discomfort.

Let's see: Acid reflux could've mutated his stomach acid and mixed with the formula on its way back up his esophagus. Then, getting exposed to open air, or at least being separated from his digestive system…

I raise my brows, straightening.

"Ohhh, got it. Still not sure how he can mutate fluids, though."

"Now, for that, I've got nothing. Sorry..." She cowers, lowering her gaze.

A bit of frustration flares up, but I ultimately shrug, making some relief appear in her eyes.

"Eh, it was worth a shot. Guess I gotta burp him quicker."

She snickers, lifting into a kneel.

I smile a bit, seeing some of that constant exhaustion replaced with something a little...calmer. It's not an obvious change; her dark-circled eyes still move slowly, and her shoulders still hang low, but now it's more out of relaxation than fatigue.

I get up, and she follows suit, suddenly pausing and staring at the sound of me cracking my neck.

"…What?" I say.

"I, uh, nothing…" She shakes her head with a smirk, though there's judgment written all over her face.

"You think I'm gonna snap my own neck?" I chuckle while scooping up a washcloth and soap bottle next to Nova's cradle.

"Wouldn't put it past you. I just hope you can heal broken joints." She backs away and sits on her bed.

"Want me to test it out?"

"Oh, go ahead; just don't expect me to help you out if it doesn't work."

The groan of the bathroom door drowns out my short laughter. Nova's eyes flutter open at both sounds. That's one thing I can give her credit for: joking with a straight face.

"Oh, uh, also, if anyone asks about the smoke, get me asap."

"Yeah…Yeah, got it…" She yawns, giving a loose thumbs-up from around the corner before retreating. Any relaxation is immediately interrupted by the stench of bleach and the buzz of fluorescent lights the second I walk into the bathroom. It's pretty clean, though everything smells so…I dunno if stale's the right word, but-

A sneeze, small and high-pitched.

My heartbeat gets a lot louder as my eyes dart to Nova to see if he's falling over. He stares back with a slightly tilted head, still upright and half-asleep.

He giggles when a sigh forces its way out of my lungs. I glance down to see a washcloth on the gray, tiled floor—must've slipped out of my arms.

"Don't scare me like that, buddy," I whisper with a forced smile, kneeling to pick it up. It's rough enough to take off any dead skin and grime, though I know it's safe enough to use on Nova. He seems to like its texture, at least.

Can't say the same about myself; I can still feel the tingling of raw skin if I think about it hard enough. All those memories of me scrubbing my arms until they went numb, just so I wouldn't have to look at all the bruises and red splotches from hours of training. Even then, I'd still get the shit kicked outta me for leaving blood on the shower tiles.

I nudge these thoughts to the back of my head as I prepare the tub. Water spurts, then flows from a stained faucet crammed between corroded chrome knobs. He smiles with widening eyes at the idea of bathtime; 'least he doesn't give a shit about being somewhere new.

Only stopped by two motels over the past week, mostly just to wash Nova or stock up on diapers and formula. Everything else can be done in the car. I even managed to get a small heater for his food in case there's no microwave around.

As for me, uh…I don't think I've bathed since we left Houston. I should probably work on that once Mia's out of the equation.

Out of the equation? You sound like you're gonna kill her.

The thought, while quick and weightless, is enough to make me shake my head and get back to bathing Nova.

He scoops a cluster of bubbles into his arms and splashes them back into the water, giggling the whole time. Seeing him so unaware is…kinda nice, honestly. Seemed like he was having fun during the chase in the woods earlier. Mia's assistance probably made it easier for him, though.

He's not gonna be like this forever. Gotta keep that in mind.

It's fun to imagine what he'll be like when he's older: someone smart, someone brave. But all that's gonna stay a fantasy if I don't get to Charleston soon.

God, Charleston. Haven't even made it out of Texas after a week. Much as I wanna pick up the pace, it wouldn't be safe for Nova. I think both of us need the breathing room every now and then; whether or not I deserve it is debatable.

Once he's all clean, I slowly lift him out of the tub. He replies with a pouty glare, which descends into sniffling and watering eyes as I dry him off.

I resist a sigh and flicker my eyes at him. Should be enough to cheer him up as I reach for a towe-

There, in the corner of my eye.

A red glow.

I dart back to see him sitting up with his sad expression fading, though only his dark brown gaze stares back.

"Christ…" I mumble. A faint pulsing turns into faint tapping in my ribcage, beating a little faster than it probably should be.

Can't let him think I'm upset, even as fear and frustration burrow themselves into the back of my head. He…doesn't seem to think so? It's hard to get a read on him sometimes—maybe that's just how babies are.

All he does is babble as I dress him, not like I'm complaining. Seeing him sit up, trying to mimic a conversation with gibberish, it…it's sweet to see. Back in Houston, he was so quiet when I got him back. Thinking about it, I-I-

I huff, lifting him once he's secured into another orange onesie.

Then, I pause on my way to put Nova into his cradle.

Is…Is Mia asleep?

It's so weird, seeing her actually, full-on relaxing for once; it was no different with Julia the first few years we knew each other. Can't say I'm surprised. A critical care nurse and a college student seem like a match made in heaven for shitty sleep schedules, though I'm not one to judge.

Nova falls asleep damn near two seconds after I lay him down. I give him a peck on the top of his head and just…look at him for a bit. That unique assurance washes over me soon after.

Everything's moving so fast, driving from place to place. Makes little pitstops like these feel like a lifetime of rest compared to being on the road. It-

Thunk.

I raise my head to the window and hold my breath, beginning to glare. My loudening heartbeat almost mimics the sound as I stand with caution.

I'm staring straight into a trap, veiled by cheap red curtains. Whatever's on the other side wants me to mutate, wants me to give in to my curiosity.

Don't. Do. Anything. Don't mutate, don't turn off the lamp, don't do shit. Just…get on the other bed and keep an eye on the window; anything else is gonna be all the confirmation they need to break in.

The other bed's hard, wooden frame hits the back of my head as wrinkled sheets rustle under me. My body struggles to resist trembling, even after I take some deep breaths and loosen my fists.

God, look at me, terrified like I'm some kid…

…But I'll happily be scared if it means Nova can be happy. I'll stay cautious as long as it keeps him safe.

***

Clunk.

Quinn nearly jumps out of his seat at the sound, blank eyes dashing to its source, only to frown at the woman in its place.

"Yeaaah, this thing's fucked." Anna sighs and wipes the sweat off her brow.

"Check again." He grimaces, seemingly unfazed by the flickering flashlight resting on her ear.

"…Look, man, this thing was already running on fumes. I'm surprised it even had airbags in the first pla-"

"Check. Again."

She scoffs and flashes her middle finger at him. Something else seems to catch her eye, past the shattered windshield and resting on the dashboard.

"You're the one who crashed it, figure it out yourse-"

"And you're the reason we're stuck. You didn't even hit him." He straightens and steps out of the car, slithering through the dark with ease.

"I'm the problem? Take it up with the guy who almost hit you, which, by the way, wouldn't have happened if you had just stayed right behind Cole." She hisses.

"Would that have made your aim better?" he sneers and leans onto the side of the hood.

"Yeah, I'd like to see you try. I'm surprised you even know how to use that fuckin' taser."

"There it is again, that superiority." Quinn's otherwise dead eyes roll. Anna tenses at the sight of his resisted smile and steps back. A crunch of leaves under her boots induces a frown as the sound melts into a cacophony of chirping bugs and birds.

A singing forest, yet none of it comforts her.

"Which father do you get it from? I'm sure they're both handfuls."

Like needles to her ears.

"Definitely better than whoever the hell raised you." She blurts casually enough to mask any fear.

Quinn's leer dies.

A step turns into a dash, and before Anna can even blink, he's in front of her with clenched fists.

"They must have showered you with praise, held your hand the whole way into becoming…whatever you are, right? How many times have they lied for you? How much have they given up so you could pursue mindless violence?"

No response—just an averted gaze and pursed lips.

"Look at you, cracking at the seams. Haven't you killed politicians? Or is that another farce they helped you come up with?" His flat tone slithers into condescension with each word.

Her sight zips again to the dashboard before averting to…well, anything but Quinn's fiery, yet expressionless eyes.

A lack of a reply prompts his arm to lunge for her shoulder.

"Answer me. Do not-"

Numbness. The sensation begins to spread through his hand, making his eyes dart to it. A tightening grip makes the pale skin on his wrist squeeze as he struggles.

"Don't fucking touch me," She says.

His head cranes back to her with an increasingly smug grin.

"…Or what? Think about who's on your side, and think about who's on mine. It's not rocket science; well, for you, it might be."

A racing heartbeat fills Anna's ears, pulling her brows down into a scowl as their staredown continues unbroken for nearly a minute. Quinn, meanwhile, tilts his head, and waits.

What-ifs race through her mind: violence shrouded in darkness and gasping breaths. She pictures her fingers around his neck, nearly showing surprise at the imaginary bliss. But another idea forms from her previous glances into the car.

A pistol, resting on the dashboard in front of the driver's seat.

Quinn had snatched it out of her hands the second they crashed, never even checking if she was injured. Recalling it nearly brings back a soft ache in the back of her skull.

His other hand unfurls.

"Kill me here, and your fathers are next. All you have to do is behave."

She opens her mouth to respond but-

Another touch.

Gloved fingers, wrapping around her bicep like a serpent choking out its food.

She nearly gags at the sight of it, prying her arm away, though a split-second distraction is all Quinn needs for his free hand to lunge for her neck an-

Footsteps, too light to break any branches, but enough to make the fallen leaves crinkle.

Anna and Quinn turn in the sound's direction. Anger is shoved to the wayside in favor of caution, even as their fingers continue to dig into each other's skin.

Step after step. Too heavy to be a typical animal, too nimble to be anyone other than a child.

They both loosen, giving Quinn a free hand to reach for his taser; it's cold metal brushes against his shirt from a holster in his blazer. The stimulation is enough to return his face to its usual lifelessness.

Anna replies with a puzzled frown.

"At least look at me in the eye if you're gonna threaten m-"

"Shh," Quinn hisses, still staring into the endless sea of trees shrouded in darkness.

Crunch…Crunch…

"The hell're you doing? You're on your own if it's a bear," She whispers.

His lack of a response makes her grunt and turn to whatever's approaching them, expecting either a nimble predator or-

A stout figure, shrouded in a long, dark red trenchcoat. Anna squints when looking at their face, blindingly white now that it's illuminated.

But it only takes a moment for her to realize it:

That's not skin, they're bandages, practically mummifying the figure. Whatever it can't cover up is wrapped in wrinkly duct tape, particularly around their eyes and nose.

"Come to humiliate me?" He deadpans. The frustrated sigh that follows only confuses Anna further.

"Quite the opposite. Let her go." The figure replies in a deep, artificially veiled voice with a mixed tone of modesty and informality.

Anna straightens when she no longer feels a hand around her neck. Quinn, meanwhile, leans back onto the car hood.

"You've been busy." The figures' bloodshot, dark brown eyes lower as they step forward. Anna raises a brow as they completely ignore her and get toe-to-toe with Quinn.

"When aren't you killing two birds with one stone?" Quinn scowls.

"Just one bird, this time." They jab back, making Anna snicker.

"You're after her? He doesn't trust me to tie off a loose end, does he?"

"I'd be surprised if he doesn't; I'm just here to wrap up what you couldn't finish."

"So we're out?" Anna interrupts.

"He is." The figure points their thumb at Quinn, who scoffs at the gesture.

"…So what about me?" She says.

"Yeah, for you…I've heard good things about you. Heard you escaped 25's tantrum unscathed."

Some softness appears in Anna's averted gaze as she crosses her arms. "Eh, relatively unscathed's a better way to put it, but yeah."

"Impressive, I must say. Heard it was a handful back in Houston." A bandaged hand slides out of their pocket, waiting to be shaken.

Anna, after a moment of flustered hesitation, does so, placing her hand in theirs.

The figure lifts their lower lids.

"O49—Oswald."

"I, uh, N—Anna."

He chuckles. "Unfortunate, right? An assassin named Oswald?"

She folds her arms and replies with a nervous laugh.

"Is it, uh…is it just you out here?"

"Oh, god no. I wouldn't be dressed like this if I were hunting an experiment alone. The Head got a squadron from Baton Rouge to tag along; they're parked nearby. I would've made them come with me if Quinn hadn't crashed so deep into the woods."

"Not my fault, by the way," Quinn growls, facing away from them as he sits on the side of the hood

"Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night!" Anna smirks.

"…I've heard you're quick; could come in handy if you're willing to help."

She loosens at Oswald's praise, replying with a nod.

"Good to hear. I'll send someone to fix up that car while we head out. You, however…" He turns to Quinn with a narrowing gaze.

"You're not going anywhere—not until you learn how to be useful."

No response, not even a glance.

O49, with little fanfare, turns and walks away. Anna soon follows.

"I…apologize if he's been a handful."

"I've dealt with worse, no biggie." Anna shrugs, though some discomfort still weighs down on her.

The forest's serenade compensates for the two minutes' worth of silence between them. Observing Oswald through glances keeps her occupied, fascinated with his odd stiffness. Some words even manage to come to mind:

Unblinking.

Unfazed.

Uncanny.

One thought immediately scolds her; another ponders why those descriptors come to mind at all.

His overly straight-postured walk is nearly a march of rhythmic footsteps, and he swings between brushing against her arm and wandering almost a foot away. Stoic, if a bit off: a nice change of pace. Well, emotionally, at least, Anna struggles to keep up with him throughout their walk.

"Better than getting screamed at." She mumbles.

"Hm?" Oswald suddenly stops dead in his tracks, only blinking once.

She shakes her head. "Nothin', just uh…What were you doing before this?"

All she gets is a soul-piercing stare. It takes a moment for her to notice the outline of a raised brow under his bandages.

"…Like before this whole mission thing?" She says to prevent any confused fear from growing stronger. The moment of silence between them certainly doesn't help.

Oswald lets out a flat "Oh" before pushing onward. Such a sudden movement and reply catch Anna off guard as she scrambles to pick up her pace.

"I'm—I was in Mexico when I got the call to come here."

She chuckles. "That's still pretty far. You guys got some kinda speed-jet lying around or-"

"That's classified." He shoots her question down in a burst of frustration, not even looking at her.

Anna resists a flinch and a glare as she slows down.

"I…I'm sorry, there's only so much I can share. I'm sure you understand from your line of work." Oswald sighs, wrinkling the duct tape on the bridge of his nose as he pinches it.

She purses her lips. An ache to respond with anger persists, though she manages to resist speaking through gritted teeth.

"'M used to it; sorry I asked."

"No, no, I understand, you're curious. You'll learn more later down the line."

A spark, yearning to burst into flames.

"Later down the line? I already know I'm stuck with you guys, what's the point in hiding shit from me?" A hiss finally springs off her tongue.

Oswald's breathing descends into a grumble. "B.E.D. has always been…selective with whom to trust, even before the Head came along. The more you know, the more incentive we need to make sure the wrong people don't find out."

They both stop, staring at each other.

"You're smart enough to keep this to yourself from now on, if you know what's good for you."

She clenches her fists at the bitterness that manages to bleed through his voice masker. The tone evokes a frustrating familiarity, a repulsion. Considering acceptance makes her stomach churn, but she ultimately lets out a sigh and looks forward.

"Lead the way, then, if I'm so hard to trust." She brushes past him, another scheme brewing behind her eyes.