Post by thefangedrose on Jul 13, 2023 14:29:59 GMT -8
Civil War 2
Chapter 2
“Evanescence”
Midtown, Manhattan
June 12th 2023
11:17 PM
Time passed as time has a tendency to do and nothing much changed in the large office structure that had been transformed into a care facility. Usually, in pairs, the Titans would come up to the third floor where the lone bed rested, do a walk-through, and then head back down.
The bed was still filled with a lone figure lying motionless on his back. His torso, abdomen, neck, and left arm were still wrapped in thick bandages that showed the faintest little stains of blood here and there. His long brown hair was lying down his face and it appeared as though where once a beard had been it was now being kept clean-shaven.
The room was silent save for the steady beeping of the monitors still attached to him and once again it was broken by the ding of the elevators and for the first time in weeks Cronos stepped out alone.
The lone Titan that was nearly as big as Atlas glanced over the room, his eyes intent and suspicious. As soon as he was sure they were alone he turned toward the door back into the elevator when a creaking sound froze him in his tracks.
The big man swallowed down a lump in his throat and he turned to look behind him. The man lying on the bed was now sitting on the edge and staring at the floor.
“...I didn’t sign up for this shit,” Cronos whispered and then stepped forward. “Yo…big guy you awake this time?”
Dean let out a groan and pushed himself up, the bandages constraining around him tightly but he didn’t look at the man standing near the elevator nor speak to him or even to himself ... .until he turned toward the far wall where the surgical unit had been set up.
“You…” He whispered in a weak voice. Cronos, who had heard Dean speak multiple times could hear the difference. His voice was harsher now, more gravely and hiss-like. “Wait a moment. I’ve been holding you in for weeks. Doing what we all have been taught to do all our lives but I can’t anymore.”
Each step looked like he had glass in his bones, his face covered in sweat and his body trembling with weakness and pain. When he finally reached the wall above the makeshift sink his eyes finally focused, staring into his reflection.
“So if this is it….We’re going to get it right...I can feel what’s coming….and…I have something to say to you.”
Cronos stood watching with wide eyes as Dean, sweat dripping down his face gripped the wall and stared at his own reflection.
“This is all new to you. This life? You never thought you’d actually get it. So let’s start with the basics. Never be cruel. Never be cowardly. Remember when you struggle with decisions that hate is always foolish….and love? Love is always wise.”
Blood now began to seep out from under the bandages as the nearly healed wounds began to rip and open. But through it all Dean stared at himself.
“As you do the things that need to be done now….Always try to be nice…but you must not fail to be kind. Ever. And most important….you must never, ever tell anyone your name.”
And then to Cronos’s surprise and dismay, Dean laughed. It was a warm sound filled with humility and kindness and in that moment the big figure standing near the elevator saw him as others had.
A champion.
A Friend.
A Brother.
A Father.
….A Husband.
And then Dean groaned, his eyes filled with mirth and glee one second turned to exhaustion and pain. Cronos nearly moved to him to steady him but before he could Dean turned and staggered back toward the bed.
“...No one would believe you anyway.”
Slowly step by step Dean carried himself back to the bed and collapsed into the side of it. Cronos took a step forward but the big man pulled himself up to sit, panting…blood running down the side of his neck from the nearly healed throat wound.
Finally, he collapsed back against the bed, his breathing coming in ragged pants and sweat pouring down his face.
“Reptile?”
Dean called out wistfully.
“....I let you go.”
Cronos stood mouth open and watched as Dean seemed to relax, his whole body going limp and his opened eyes staring unblinkingly at the ceiling. He stepped back into the elevator and hit the button.
He could send Trey up to tend to the wounds and get the monitors reattached. Somehow he knew…he had just watched a man take his final breaths and whatever was in that room now?
It wasn’t Dean Matthews anymore.
It was simply a shell.
His body.
Nothing more.
And he also knew he would never set foot on this floor ever again.
**
Midtown, Manhattan
June 19th 2023
12:47 PM
Again, time passed as it has a tendency to do but now The Titan Cronos completely and adamantly refused to step foot on the floor where the comatose man lay. Atlas and the others however had taken turns patrolling and found that Dean had not changed. He lay completely still. Eyes open and staring at the ceiling.
In the lobby Atlas and Hyperion knew it was time for another round to check on the third floor and glanced back at the elevator where Crius had just disappeared a few moments before. As the two looked back at the doors a chirp sound called from their pockets.
“HE’S FUCKING GONE!”
Atlas lifts a brow and reaches into his pocket for the phone and lifts it to his mouth as he pushes the button.
“Who?” Atlas asked.
“THE FUCK YOU THINK!”
Atlas and Hyperion both look at one another sharply as Atlas lifts the phone again.
“The fuck do you mean he’s gone?! He was just there an hour ago! The man hasn’t moved a muscle in a week!”
“I dunno what the fuck to tell you, boy! He’s fucking gone. The beds are empty, leads are on the floor. I checked everywhere and he’s gone!”
“Get back here.”
“You need to call her.” Crius’s voice returned.
“Get the fuck back down here right the fuck now.”
Atlas tossed his phone across the desk that had once served at the service desk of the office and turned his attention to Hyperion.
“Do me a favor and check the other floors and call Cronos. Tell him to forget about the food and check on his way back on the off chance he slipped out past us.”
“....Atlas you know he didn’t slip pas….”
“I know Hyp! FUCK! I know! But if we don’t do this she’ll have our balls and not in a good way, Ya Heard?”
Hyperion’s eyes narrowed at the mention of what could happen now then he turned and headed for the stairs. Atlas rounded the desk, sat down at the monitors, and began to burn the feeds to send to the client…
…not that it showed anything useful.
He was just….gone.
**
Harlem, NYC
June 20th 2023
2:47 AM
The parking lot of the motel was empty save for a sprinkling of cars here and there. The motel itself was shaped a lot like a L with a parking lot in the middle and two stories with rooms all facing the parking lot. It wasn’t expensive and people could come and go relatively anonymously.
The type of place that was usually frequented by drug deals and prostitution.
And yet a man seemed to walk from the sidewalk and onto the parking lot asphalt as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He was tall for a man of his build with shoulder-length brown hair with a feathered flairThe two stood staring at one another for a moment. He wore a simple pair of blue jeans and a tank top that showed the topmost tip of a nasty surgical scar rising up out of the back of it.
He walked with the assistance of a hand-carved oak cane that he leaned heavily on as if his legs didn’t have enough strength to actually support him.
The strangest thing however was the aura that seemed to radiate from him. It didn’t matter if it was someone who was strung out and looking for an easy victim to roll for a fix or someone just looking for a victim when they turned their eyes on this man a sense of forbidding and dread filled them.
It was as if pure undiluted power radiated outwards from him in waves.
When he made it across the parking lot he walked to one of the doors and placed the key inside. Turning it he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The curtains of the room were drawn leaving the space beyond him the room pitch black.
He could, however, smell it.
Wet copper.
Blood.
The man didn’t move, however. He stood frozen in place, his eyes scanning the room from one side to the other until they fell on the empty space beyond the door leading to the bathroom near the back wall.
A huge hulking shadow stood in the darkness and before he could speak to it a pair of eyes opened near the ceiling. Cold, empty, and bloodshot.
The two stood staring at one another for a moment before the man leaning on the cane spoke.
“It’s been nearly a week. What the hell took you so long?”
No voice returned as the figure just stood staring. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife but the man leaning on the cane didn’t speak again. He just stood there watching, unconcerned about the intruder…until it finally spoke.
The voice was familiar to him and yet at the same time….not.
It was raspier with more of a gravely hiss.
“He….” The figure began quietly. “....Fought.”
“Of course he did.” The man with the cane answered with an understanding nod. “The family has been keeping you locked away for four generations. Just letting you go goes against everything they stood for.”
“Did….they know?”
“About you?” He asked and shrugged. “I doubt it. They have thought for years you were just a form of mental illness. I tried to tell him in my own way many years ago...but he didn't understand."
The man leaning on the cane shifted his weight and moved across the floor to the closest of the two beds and with two audible clicks the light came on revealing the shabby cheap interior of the motel.
And the man who had once been nothing more than a shadow. He was huge, standing so tall his head nearly touched the ceiling, and wearing a pair of filthy sweatpants with holes on the thighs and one calf. A grimy shirt covered his upper body and his feet were bare.
His hair was long and dirty blonde as was his unkempt beard, both seemed to be stained with soot and blood.
“You’ve seen better days.” The man with the cane said.
The hulking figure snorted back a laugh and looked down at himself.
“Homeless man tried to rob me….he didn’t want to give up his clothes after. You have done worse, Rivers.”
The man he called Rivers’s face darkened and his eyes narrowed.
“Once.” He answered hotly but his face quickly changed to one of concern and he crossed the room to where Dean stood. “Come on. We must get you out of the rags and get your wounds cleaned.”
“Why?” The beast asked gruffly, raising a brow slowly. “I can’t feel them.”
“All the more reason.” Rivers insisted. “You may not be able to feel them….but infection can still kill you.”
The beast just gave a curt nod and turned to walk into the bathroom pulling the grime-covered shirt off and dropping it to the floor. Rivers then saw the healing bullet wounds that riddled his left arm, torso, and stomach.
His eyes narrowed at the memory of how much focus it had taken to keep him from succumbing to his wounds on that surgery table. Over and over again he had to intervene.
“I’ll head out tomorrow and get you some fresh clothes….and some hair dye.”
“Fine.” The beast’s voice growled from the bathroom. “Then, Lucifer. You tell me everything.”
“...Everything.”
