Author's Note: I have no excuse, so I won't give one; I will however recommend you review the chapters before this just for reference's sake, since it has been way too long since a new chapter was added to this (also because I'm throwing a few curveballs here :p).
[Written off and on from December 7th of 2004 to April 10th of 2006]
Disclaimer: I, in no way, own Matoh Sanami's characters of 'FAKE' and if I did, they'd be in no way be what they are today, I'm merely borrowing them and hoping to spin a tale worthy of the Matoh talent, however, I do own whatever original characters appear below, whatever that means...
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"Mad Season"
Chapter Nine: Asymmetrical Spectacle
There was a long expectant moment, in which Dee felt that whatever emotional pain Randy had shown him before paled before this, he felt that if he could but move his body, he'd be able to touch what seemed so visible, and no doubt be swallowed up whole within less than a second, then the man seated before him stirred. Startled, Dee turned slightly to find that Randy was heading in his direction, his face turn downwards so the raven-haired man could not place his mood to discover Randy's intention in such an action.
Dee watched him approach in much the matter you'd witness any major disaster, you know the events taking place before you are beyond horrible but you are unable to look away for fear of missing it altogether. If anything, the worst the Resistance leader would do would kill him here and now, and considering the circumstances, that most likely would be better than the alternative, struggling to stay alive in surroundings that were overflowing with death.
When arms enclosed his waist, and warmth situated itself firmly onto his chest, Dee looked down, and stared rather expectantly, waiting for some explanation from the person embracing him but when none came, he thought about how this situation could be classified as something other than good and after shrugging mentally, he sat down, instantly becoming aware of what a mistake it had been when his gaze met Randy's.
There was nothing in those dark gray eyes that could have placed the man as Randall McLane, blank as dull spoons; nothing remained of the personality, the harshness, the intolerant aptitude that gulled Dee to no end, and to be drawn against such a thing, the knowledge that Bikky may had broken the one person who cared for him more than anyone; it was only when the first teardrop slipped down his cheek that Dee came back to himself in a rush, barely in time to catch glance of the furred shape fast approaching their location.
It was as if someone reached inside and switched his body on autopilot, with speed he never dreamt he'd possess, he pulled Randy from himself and tucked him behind him, against the back of his legs, safe for the moment, but a better solution had to found if he was to engage the werker stalking in front of him in combat. That he should seek out some kind of weapon never crossed his mind, after all, if used correctly, the human body could be lethal itself, and for one on the verge of alteration, applying the force needed to defend himself was nothing more than mere child's play.
The werker clearly hadn't been expecting the two men situated before it to be merely more than prey, and the fact one of their scents had shifted to match one of it's own kind added to it's confusion, put off by this, the werker shook itself then continued as it had originally, intent on acquiring a meal no matter how much effort it took.
Just as the werker leapt forward, Dee took to the ground, almost leaning entirely on Randy's back but his attention; justifiably so was more focused on the form clearing the air above him, smirking to himself, Dee shoved his arm upwards, leaving air and meeting flesh within a moment, breaking through bone and muscle like one would punch through paper, then felt the first hot drops of blood drip onto his face and neck just as his fingers broke through to the other side of the werker's body.
As he pulled his arm back, blood and carnage escaped through the large hole he had made, covering yet more of his person but he was beyond caring at the moment, that is, until Dee had shoved aside the werker's corpse and had just begun to raise his bloody hand to his mouth, when his mind and reason saw fit to return. Horrified, Dee scrambled from the scene he'd unwittingly made before coming to stare at his filthy hands with a mix of muddled longing and extreme disgust, cursing profusely, he forcibly threw his hands down and had just begun to stand when a shiver ran down his back.
Turning ever so slowly, Dee looked back to find that the only one who hadn't willingly engaged in a fight had sat up, and glared accordingly at whom had gotten his clothes nearly soaked with blood and other unsaid things, whatever Bikky had broken, it seemed to have mended itself for the look directed towards him was pure Ryo through and through, inwardly Dee gave a relieved sigh, as he didn't think Randy himself was aware of the fact he'd lost use of his synapses for however long.
As Randy took grip of his switchblade once again, for there were still half a dozen werkers about the area intent on dealing some damage to the Resistance, Dee claimed a nearby corner for himself, turning his gaze back to his bloodied hands unconsciously, eyes widening when he glimpsed one of the nails of his left hand shortening, and after a moment, followed the trail of change, realizing just how he had been able to gouge through the body of the werker who had attacked himself and Randy.
"Shit," He muttered, crossing his arms in order to keep his ever-changing hands from sight, when a shadow abruptly blocked the light around him, Dee glanced upwards; hardly surprised to find Bradford leaning heavily against the wall Dee had taken shelter, though the wounds the Resistance member had sustained were of some significance, as Dee had not had much confidence in how well Bradford could have aided the Resistance as he was before they had stumbled over the current safe house.
Bradford looked down upon Dee closely, closing his eyes for a moment as he struggled to ignore the pain of the deep scratches across his chest and throat, before beginning to reach for the small gun tucked underneath his shirt, settled against the base of his spine. All too aware Bradford might have witnessed his body's betrayal, Dee made no move to stop the barrel of the pistol from settling firmly against the right side of his skull.
Sick with the knowledge Randy might move beyond the polite courtesy, and all around reluctance when it came to him, after learning just how far the lycanthropy had spread, Dee closed his eyes, merely accepting the fate that had been dealt him, sparing no ill thought of Bradford as he was acting upon a belief system he believed true, never mind the fact such a system had been instilled by his organization's leader. Expecting to embrace oblivion within a number of moments, when no such darkness came forth, Dee leaned towards the barrel of the pistol against his head, almost pleadingly, starting when the cold metal of the weapon fell away abruptly.
As Bradford collapsed next to him, Dee opened his eyes, eyeing the pistol to his left and the shell of the Resistance member's body to his right, raking his eyes upward to meet the gaze of a hesitant werker standing before him, it's intent did not seem focused on doing Dee harm however, it appeared the werker was trying to determine whether or not the raven-haired man was one of it's own, or something else altogether.
With a slight sniff, the werker moved onward, and watching his so-called savior slather away, Dee took hold of the gun and fingering the trigger, pulled it a moment later, an uneasy smile taking form on his face as he took note of the small river of blood, flowing freely from the body of the werker that had passed him by, weaving it's way towards him. It was only when two of his fingers became coated with crimson warmth, Dee brought his hand close, and seeing all had returned to normal (as it could be), wiped the blood away, tucked the gun into the back of his jeans and stood, intent on seeing if Randy had survived yet another impossible situation.
The chaos around him slowly died down, and it was clear from his quick examination who had won this round, the werker safe house had been caught quite unprepared and had paid the consequences for it, and unwilling as he had been at first, Dee had fought for the Resistance as well.
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Out of the original 27 Resistance members, only 17 had managed to escape the werker safe house more or less intact, when it had become apparent there were no more werkers to exterminate, the remaining group had quickly returned to the tunnel from whence they had come, dressing wounds as well they could until proper medical treatment could be had, what carnage each had witnessed had been put outside of mind until it could be properly processed.
Dee walked silently next to Randy, who occasionally glanced towards him but commented not, unsure of the exact source of the man's anxiety, as it could be a number of issues, their recent excursion notwithstanding; his reason for keeping an eye on Dee was merely because of the threat of another episode, Randy's personal feelings, meager as they were, were of little matter. If such things were given room to grow, the Resistance leader would be committing something close to political suicide, as he could not function properly in his job if he was torn on what it was to destroy werkers.
Disregarding the issue completely as Dee suddenly stumbled, Randy moved ahead of one of the members of his organization, and caught the man neatly in his arms, quickly settling Dee onto his back, the familiar weight easing some of the tension in his body unknowingly, tightening his grip, Randy continued forward, his brow ceased in thought, pondering the next move the Resistance would make.
The episode had struck him unaware, and slipping into the all too familiar feeling of disorientation, Dee was startled to find himself viewing the private detective Smith, someone he had assumed had been killed for prying too deeply into William's affairs, yet there the man was, standing on a corner, his hands shoved deep within the depths of his trench coat, his body language uncomfortable as Smith examined his surroundings every few moments, clearly paranoid of what may have been lurking in the shadows near him. Understanding such a feeling, Dee was subject to William's thoughts, something that had thus far eluded him, immediately, the raven-haired man came to know why Smith had been allowed to live, William planned to use the detective to lure out those of the Resistance.
Much like a cat and mouse game, once the werker knew whom to target within the organization, he would inform his comrades, and the hunt would begin anew, this time his kind having the upper hand instead of the humans. How far William had proceeded in his plan Dee knew not, as this memory seemed to focus entirely on stalking Smith as he went about his business, unknowing of what plans had hung upon the success of Smith contacting the Resistance.
William’s attention shifted from the waiting detective to the two files within his briefcase, containing most of the details of Randy’s life, though the information on recent events of said man’s life was somewhat lacking, such as how the Resistance had been formed, or how the organization’s leader had been able to secure funding and weaponry with little to no effort, though William had his own theories on the matter.
As another body came to rest aside Smith’s, the werker’s vigil began anew, and as William focused on the pair, Dee was startled when he could suddenly hear the start of the conversation between the mysterious Resistance member, and Smith.
“Anthony Smith?” Slight shuffle of cloth, clasp of flesh meeting flesh (obviously, a handshake), before a soft gasp tumbled out of someone’s mouth, there was a soft chuckling before the figure next to Smith patted the detective on the back, and led the man towards a nearby bar. Curious as to whether William would be able to hear the pair in such a noisy setting, Dee mentally slapped himself when the werker followed them, keeping a discreet distance, stopping when Smith and his companion had entered the bar, and leaning just beyond the business’s entrance.
Paying no mind to some of the shady characters that passed him by on the street, William once again made full use of his exceptional hearing, and after sorting through the various bar noises, focused entirely on Smith. “May I call you Tony?” Liquid swishing in a glass, slight clink as Smith raised his glass to his lips then a strained silence, during which, no declination of the man’s question had been issued. “There’s no need to be nervous, I appreciate you contacting me, though I was rather surprised when you mentioned a werker had hired you to look into my history.
“It’s never happened before, as far as I know,” Randy finished, the last of his words slightly incredulously, as if he still had trouble believing a werker could have gone to so much trouble just to uncover his past. Listening in mute fascination, as Dee hadn’t expected the Resistance contact to be Ryo himself, perhaps the man’s curiosity had gotten the better of him, though somehow that didn’t fit the profile of the cold-scarred man in the present.
“Had I realized it sooner, I wouldn’t have handed over what papers I did to Cunningham, some of the information continued in those files was rather comprehensive,” Smith said, guilt all too clear in his voice, Dee would had thought his occupation had taught him to carefully school his voice to reveal nothing of his emotions but perhaps the detective had other strengths.
“I’m going to assume you’re well suited for your job, and ask just what you uncovered during your investigation.” Over the next forty-five minutes, Smith told of his findings, Randy commenting ever so often, but mostly remaining silent, especially when the detective told of his parents’ accident, and what had been held back from him as a child, nonetheless, when Smith told of his last meeting with William, Randy inquired as to how the man had managed to escape, if the werker had known Smith had stumbled upon the truth of the matter.
“The fact we were in a public place helped, though once I left, I honestly expected Cunningham to pursue me, as time passed, I suppose Cunningham felt I wasn’t much of a threat to his existence. How wrong he will be.” Dee could make out the malevolent grin on the detective’s face without even seeing it, and as the conversation progressed, Randy explained how his organization functioned, information Dee had come to know by reading between the lines of the scarred man’s words.
“How were you able to secure funding and weaponry so fast after forming the Resistance?” Silence stretched onward for a few moments, the only sounds issuing forth the clink of glasses, and slight vibrations of a throat as it took in drink before Randy spoke, an odd tone in his voice Dee couldn’t recognize, he flashed back on the few times the Resistance leader had used such a tone and was glad he was unable to view the men as they conversed, as the expressions of Randy’s face had never been pleasant whilst the tone was in use.
“Oddly enough, that was the easy part of starting the organization, one merely had to capture that which it wanted to destroy, confirm there were men in powerful positions in the immediate area, and release a werker in a decidedly convenient location. The trick of it was reaching the men before the werker did, but five times out of ten, you usually were able to adequately defend your targets (that is, the men whose assistance you desired); you’d be surprised how grateful a person is after having a life or death experience,” Randy informed, chuckling darkly as he no doubt waited for Smith to process what he’d revealed.
“…Then that general and the others, unaware you’d set them up, willingly granted you what you asked?” Smith’s voice held disbelief, with a thread of apprehension, as if the detective was uncertain whether or not meeting with the Resistance leader had been wise after all. “Of course, and with such funds, it was only a matter of time before the organization became what it is today; besides this unit in New York, there is also one in California, and plans to expand further are being considered as well.”
“You said there were two kinds of werewolves? Err, werkers…I’m beginning to understand why you refer to them by another name.” Quick silence as Smith waited for Randy to affirm his inquiry, during which a nod must have been issued as the man continued onward. “The physical kind would no doubt be easy to spot but how do you go about the seeking those who are infected with lycanthropy of the mental type?”
“Corpos, the physical sort, are easy to locate as you said, those of the psychological sort are dealt with soon enough within the confines of human society; serial killers are caught, loonies locked behind the bars of an asylum and so on. The Resistance focuses primarily upon werkers who physically manifest themselves, as they present the bigger threat.”
“Question, if one maintained enough sanity after becoming marked by a werker, how could you tell the difference between said person and a corpo werker?” Swish of liquid as Randy thought over Smith’s question. “Fundamentally, they would be the same, cut from the same cloth, and as such, both would need to be exterminated. Are you asking this out of pure speculation or does your question have some basis?”
“S-Speculation, of course,’ Smith replied all too quickly, a pregnant silence grew between the pair of men until Randy made a soft sound, halfway between a sigh and moan, before asking if the detective had any other questions about the Resistance, while giving Smith time to think, Randy whistled softly and ordered another drink, just as Smith’s voice rang out again, the memory began to break at the edges, and though Dee tried frantically to remain within it but a moment longer, the pull to reality was far stronger than his meager will.
Dee came back to himself, breathing in the familiar scent of vanilla and lemon, and beneath that, the intangible musk of Randy’s skin, remaining still on the man’s back as he didn’t trust himself to walk unaided, Dee kept his eyes closed, recalling what he had just learned and how it affected his situation, despite the hard truths he’d inadvertently overheard, it didn’t make him think any less of Randy. Aware said man most likely knew he was conscious, Dee started when one of the hands gripping his legs lessened it’s grip before squeezing almost painfully.
Biting back the whimper that threatened to escape, Dee stirred pointedly, and thought he heard a chuckle, but the sound was quickly drowned out by the scream that rose from the far back of the Resistance crowd, and at the first flash of fur he saw, Dee knew something had gone horribly wrong. “Son of a bitch, don’t tell me…” Randy started, only to throw himself into the melee when it drew close enough, having already discarded the burden of Dee from his back. As the fighting begin anew, a nasty thought began to grow in the back of Dee’s mind.
He could recall the feel of Ilona’s body on him, her eagerness to sway him to the werkers’ side, the woman’s angry tears as Dee forced her to remember her slain husband, and Ilona’s offer, “We have an outing, a hunt that I wish you to attend, but do not worry, you will not need to participate, only observe.” Watching another Resistance member fall a few feet away amidst the alarming amount of werkers making their way out of the safe house the Resistance had previously vacated, as few flicks of blood landed on his face, Dee told himself it couldn’t be true.
Warmth sliding down his cheek, Dee fell back against one of the tunnel’s walls, and bringing a hand up to wipe the blood away, thought furiously that if what he was thinking was correct, then unknowingly Dee had played a part in it, it was his fault the blood on his hand was present. If the hunt Ilona had cited back then had been regarding the Resistance, then the reason why Ilona had never appeared to assist her forces when Randy and his crew had attacked their headquarters to rescue Dee…
”The bitch used me as bait.” Ilona had known the Resistance would find and investigate the hidden tunnel, and set the whole thing up, including the Resistance’s seemingly easy victory. “The hell she wants to stop the killing, Ilona just wants to completely annihilate the Resistance!” Randy’s going to play right into her hands, Dee thought, shit, regardless of how this all started, nothing’s going to come of it all if Randy doesn’t survive.
Disregarding his body’s discomfort from its last episode, Dee lunged forward, dodging aside when a werker nearly rammed him unknowingly, and taking advantage of their wariness of him, having already noticed those transformed couldn’t peg him as either human or werker, Dee smoothly navigated through the throe, slashing out with half-sharpened claws when it was needed until spotting Randy in a far corner, his hands moving fast against a furred shape he’d cornered.
“Ryo, you’ve got to tell your men to retreat, this is all an elaborate tra-“ Eyes going wide when he had ventured closer to the werker Randy had been slicing, Dee noticed the creature had stopped fighting, and curled it on itself, merely accepting the abuse it was being given without a thought of retaliation. Compared to its other kin, the werker was also of smallish size, and watching Randy continue to lash out at it, Dee reached out for a shoulder, all too aware of his altered hands, and stifled a grunt when fingernails tore into his flesh.
Randy had originally slashed out with his switchblade, but when he’d recognized Dee as owner of the hands, he’d quickly bend his wrist inward, but by doing so, some of his fingers drew blood instead, and watching blood pool out of the deep scratches, Randy leveled a glare at Dee, both angry that he’d interrupted and that Dee had been keeping secret the changes he was going through. “What the hell do you want? And did you say something about retreat?”
Ignoring the scratches and lowering his hands, Dee nodded, noting the escalation of fighting behind him as it became more frenzied, Resistance members taking more risk out than usual, out of panic, as werkers continued to appear in the tunnel. “Their leader planned this, it’s a trap, you’ve got to gather what members you’ve got left and retreat, or I doubt anyone is getting out of here alive.”
Randy’s eyes hardened, and stepping back a bit, his back meeting the tunnel wall, Dee refused to look elsewhere, having decided Randy could bitch all he wanted, he was getting out of here alive, along with whoever else was smart enough to listen to sound advice. “Just how do you know this bit of knowledge? Did you and Ilona have a little heart-to-heart while you were at their headquarters?”
He referred to her by name. “It’s not like that! She mentioned something about a hunt, and considering all that happened after I was taken back by the Resistance, there’s no other way to explain why else we’d be attacked after seemingly emptying one of their main safe houses.” The bloodied werker behind Randy began to move, and briefly looking away from the Resistance leader, Dee stared, silently warning the werker that if he acted wrongly, his life would be forfeit.
“How do I know you’re not acting with them?” He can calmly stand here and argue while his men are slaughtered? We don’t have time for this. “Did I look like I was expecting you guys to attack their headquarters then?! Ryo, we’ve got to get out of here before the situation gets even worse,” Dee explained, half wanting to punch Randy just so he could get the man out of the tunnel.
”So you keep saying,” Randy said blandly, not even showing panic in his expression when a werker crept towards them, merely reaching towards the small of his back to pull a handgun out, and firing once. Eyeing the fallen werker, and the small puddle of blood gathering beneath its head, Dee realized that though Randy did have a tendency to overindulge, the man had clearly detached himself from the situation to focus on the Resistance’s one aim: the execution of werkers.
No matter how many reasons I give him, he’s not going to leave willingly. To Randy, this is an ideal situation, no matter how stacked the odds are against him, he wants to stay, regardless that it’s a trap. “One has to wonder which side you’re on at this point,” Randy said dangerously, his free hand moving to grip one of Dee’s wrists, bringing one changed hand up, the dark fur and half claws contrasting against the pale hand holding it, “given how your body continually betrays you.”
Not liking the dark light in Randy’s eyes or the sudden change in discussion, Dee gritted his teeth and wisely decided not to comment, even when the pressure on his hand increased significantly. “Disregarding that, are you and your men going to retreat or not? You’re not going to be able to calmly discuss this much longer,” Dee replied softly, breathing an inner sigh of relief when the werker Randy had attacked leaned back against the wall opposite them, and appeared to pass out.
”We aren’t retreating,” Randy replied shortly, releasing Dee’s hand and instead reaching towards the man’s back, and just when he’d taken grip of the pistol Dee had taken from the fallen Bradford, Dee pulled his left arm back, and making a fist with his strange fingers and hand, socked Randy directly in the gut, winching when he felt a rib break against his fisted hand. If you hadn’t been so damn stubborn, force wouldn’t have been the only option.
His breath suddenly short, Randy lose grip of the pistol against Dee’s back, and slumped over, his vision flashing black. “You fucking assho-“ Right back at you, Dee thought to himself, as once he confirmed Randy was unconscious, he took hold of the man’s body and easily flung Randy onto a shoulder, noting vaguely his own hands still hadn’t returned to their original state. I wonder if it’s because I’m presently in danger? I need to ask someone who knows more about this than I do.
The Resistance leader’s handgun Dee picked up from the ground, and raising the weapon, Dee fired five consecutive shots [1], and hoped he’d gotten most of the remaining Resistance members’ attention, though he was taking a risk just by acting as a distraction anyway. Figuring most of Randy’s men would take in their leader’s delicate position over Dee’s shoulder, and assume the worst, Dee immediately headed towards the nearest opening, when he was a good distance away from the main fight, he pushed through one of them and sat Randy down on the ground, looking around the werker safe house warily.
Luckily, it was empty, and making sure to drag something heavy against the trapdoor leading to the tunnel, Dee explored the many rooms around him, and once he’d found what he wanted, he set the first aid kit near to Randy, and leaning down, unbuttoned the man’s shirt so he could dress the Resistance leader’s recent wounds, as well as his own. Dee was somewhat stunned to discover his hands had gone back to normal, but once the scratches on his hand had been properly bound, he wondered just how he was going to explain all this to any of the members that happened to survive the melee going on in the tunnel.
Randy is not going to be happy once he wakes up, Dee thought, turning his gaze upon the man lying next to him, trying to plan his next move but without any thought as to where he could go without placing himself or Randy in more danger. There was a series of thuds against the trapdoor, and recognizing the Resistance code the group had set before they’d started into the tunnel, Dee pushed the wooden trunk off the door, and jumped back in surprise when two figures exited it.
Finding two familiar faces suddenly opposite his, Dee waited for a sign of anyone else coming, but when two furred bodies began to move towards the opening, Dee quickly dragged the trunk back against the trapdoor, not waiting to invite anymore trouble. As it was, it looked as if the two men who’d run from the fight when they could, were a set of tall brunette twins, each with pale gray eyes, the only indication to tell them apart was a deep ragged scar that ran aside one’s cheek.
”You forcibly pulled Randy from that chaos? You’ve got guts,” the man with the scar commented shortly, pulling the first aid kit his way, and motioning his brother close so he could tend to the man’s wounded arm. Trying to remember the men’s names, Dee scoffed, glaring at the unconscious figure of Randy pointedly, something he would have never normally done before this had all started. “I didn’t do it out of any whim just so you know, that whole thing was a damn trap, and like an idiot, Ryo refused to give the order to retreat.”
Chuckling, the scarred twin cleaned his brother’s wound patiently, as it was quite deep, and he wanted to make sure the bleeding had stopped before he bound it, it would be a waste of bandages after all if the wound kept seeping blood as heavily as it was. “I’m not surprised, seeing how deeply Randy hates his own kind.” Going pale, Dee stared incredulously at the Resistance member as he brought a dressing up and applied it to his brother’s arm, not even noticing Dee’s silence until he caught sight of the raven haired man’s face.
”You didn’t know?”
”Seeing how close Randy keeps him, how could anyone find the time to tell him, Richard [2]?” The scarred man, Richard, gave a sigh and after taping down the dressing, leaned back and pulled a pack of cigarettes from one of his jean pockets, giving one of the cylinders to Dee after he stared longingly at Richard’s lit one. Lighting it for him, Richard tugged his brother down next to him and ignoring the slightly disgusted look on his twin’s face, exhaled; smoke curling around the edges of his mouth before dissipating eventually.
”What Rob means to say is Randy’s been coddling you, a rare event in itself but I’m surprised he didn’t mention he didn’t quite survive Bikky’s disappearance intact,” Richard explained clearly, puffing away at his cigarette contently, apparently giving no thought to the fact he was one of the only four survivors in an group originally numbered 27. “He lost his mind for a short time, two weeks actually, and when Randy regained his senses, he managed to appear sane but when it came to werker matters, and even now, Randy has a habit of going berserk.”
”It’s actually taboo to mention that Randy is half as bad as werkers, the last person who did it by accident is supposedly dead,” Rob finished curtly, ignoring the itch that had started near the wound on his arm. “…And how do you know all this?”
”Oh, we were part of the Randy’s original group before the Resistance started expanding into what it is today,” Richard answered, taking a moment to ground his cigarette into the floor, having already finished. “It’s better that you know than not, since Randy could snap at any time once the full moon draws closer,” Rob added, watching Dee’s face as he tried to digest the information he’d been given, and failed miserably to hide the unease he was feeling.
”He’s got no right to run this organization,” Dee muttered to himself, watching Randy’s unconscious figure next to him, unable to believe that the scarred man’s sanity held on such a fragile thread, then again there had been signs Randy wasn’t all there at times, his reaction to Bikky earlier just one of many that came to Dee’s mind. The extreme hatred he had displayed when first discovering Dee was turning, the frenzied way in which he organized parties to exterminate werkers with no regards to consequences. I should have realized it earlier…
”Be that as it may, he does, and despite his faults, Randy is an efficient leader on all counts,” Rob explained shortly, eyeing his wristwatch closely, there was no guarantee after all that they’d be safe here for much longer. “We just know not to trust him much when it gets to that time every month,” Richard added, standing up and offering Dee a hand, which he hesitatingly accepted then leaned down and draped Randy over a shoulder again, as it didn’t look like the Resistance leader would be awakening anytime soon.
”I just don’t get how you can put any trust in him at all,” Dee stated quietly, walking alongside Rob and Richard as they headed out of the safe house and headed out onto the city street, heading back towards the area they had originally arrived in before exploring the underground tunnel. Richard laughed for a moment, then leaned against Dee’s free shoulder, grinning, apparently amused at Dee’s thought process, “Put it this way, Dee, would you want someone who knew nothing about werkers running this organization?”
”Well, no, but…”
”Randy may not be aware of it himself, but he knows werkers intimately, inside and out, which makes him, despite his mental state, the closest thing to a leader we will ever have,” Richard finished, patting Dee’s shoulder and opening the side van door when they had reached one of the Resistance’s vehicles. “You remember where Randy’s apartment is, right?”
Nodding to Rob, and grateful the man’s residence was only a few blocks away, since Dee wasn’t sure how long he could drive without falling into another episode, he slipped into the driver’s seat and motioned Richard over. “What are you guys planning to do next?”
Richard sighed, bringing up a hand to scratch at his chin unconsciously. “Well, we need to put the alert out to other Resistance members that the werkers retaliated, and warn those who were planning to undergo missions to cancel them, one disaster is all we need after all. Basically, we need to regroup…let me know when Randy’s awake, all right? My cell number should be in the Resistance records.
”But I would recommend you keep your distance until he calms down after realizing what you’ve done, confronting him about it is the worst you could do,” Richard warned softly, locking eyes with Dee until the raven-haired man nodded and started the van’s engine. Waving briefly to Rob, who only nodded in the van’s general direction, Dee pulled out into the street, and as the scenery sped by, pondered just how he was going to isolate himself from Randy if he was forced to occupy the same apartment.
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There was the sense of movement before him, and then the chair he’d accidentally fallen asleep in next to the bed, was suddenly shifting sideways, and just before his head would have hit the floor, Dee extended his arm, and wincing when his elbow impacted against the floor, he opened clenched eyes and warily looked up at the looming shape of Randy standing over him. Son of a bitch, he’s awake, and he’s already intent on killing me, Dee thought, halfway whimpering in his mind but grateful the punch he’d given Randy hadn’t seemed to do any further damage beyond a cracked rib.
He had no warning when he was abruptly hauled to his feet, thanks to the Resistance leader’s hand gripping the back of his shirt, and rather than choke, Dee allowed the indignity until a fist near about turned his head about. He understood well why Randy was angry, and that he was a convenient target but with all he’d gone through, Dee was sick of being given the short end of the stick, it was about time things went from bad to good in his opinion.
Catching the knee coming up to kick him in the stomach, Dee pushed it away and stomping on Randy’s left instep, when the man stumbled, Dee guided him towards the bed, ignoring his bloody nose and throbbing jaw. Just as his back hit the covers, Randy’s temper seemed to flare, and he rose, fists fast at work against Dee’s person, but when the man didn’t seem to take note of the blows, and his blood began to drip onto Randy’s neck and chin, Randy’s movements slowed and just when Dee’s mouth would have pressed against his, Randy shifted his head just so, avoiding the kiss just barely.
There was a weight in Dee’s eyes that said if this isn’t the way it was going to be, the rest of the fight Randy had started was not going to be pretty; when teeth bit into the skin of his neck, Randy’s breath suddenly went short, and his back writhed against the bed before the Resistance leader intentionally bucked, causing Dee to accidentally break skin, and lose the grip on Randy’s hands he’d just secured seconds before.
Fingers digging into his shoulder, Dee winched when Randy shifted his weight, effectively switching their positions, and Dee already attempted to sit up since if he didn’t have control of the situation, Randy wouldn’t bother converting his anger into sex, when the scarred man leaned down, pressing his weight against Dee’s, Dee went still, suddenly afraid for no reason he could cite. “I know what you’re trying to do, and I’ll admit it’s sneaky but it’s not going to work as well as you think.
”I’m not known for giving into my sex drive much, and even if I do, it’s definitely not going to be with you,” Randy explained, voice low and dangerous, an edge of a growl in it, trying to assert his dominance over Dee on all bases, should the man get it into his head he was Randy’s equal. “Why not? It’s not like you’re any different than I am.” As soon as he’d said it, Dee wished he could take it back; it hadn’t even been three hours since he’d parted from the twins, and he’d already revealed something he shouldn’t have known.
The dark light that’d been evident in Randy’s eyes when he’d been gripping Dee’s changed hand in the tunnel earlier returned, and settling his weight more heavily against Dee’s waist, Randy grabbed one of Dee’s wrists, and brought it over the man’s head, and squeezed, a smile breaking out when Dee man twitched in pain beneath him. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”
”Nothing, nothing at all,” Dee replied quickly, twisting his wrist quickly to loosen Randy’s grip on it, he’d never minded a little pain when it came to foreplay but this was just abuse. “No, I think you’re trying to insinuate something here, and I’m just wondering who would’ve told you certain things while I was out.” Just when he’d managed to free his wrist, Randy leaned closer, an unpleasant smile on his face as he ran a hand against Dee’s bloodied cheek, a hint of a fingernail evident in the caress.
Remembering the strength he’d shown when Ilona had situated herself against him much as Randy was at the moment, Dee jerked a leg up, and folding it quickly, tucked it against Randy’s back, using the stance to lean forward and grabbing the Resistance leader’s hips, slid the man onto his side, quickly grabbing the man’s wrists and pinning him against the bed whilst his knees came to rest against Randy’s sides. Dee had just barely recalled the rib he’d cracked, and had managed to avoid putting pressure on it, but he was sure Randy was feeling pain anyway.
”I am alluding to something,” Dee growled out, his own anger coming to the forefront now that Randy had truly ground on his last nerve, he’d never liked being at the mercy of others, especially when it came to serious matters such as this. “I’m saying you’re a damn hypocrite, saying this and that about how evil werkers are when you’re really no better yourself…right, werker?” And just like that, Randy lost control, fighting against Dee frantically, freeing one hand and burying it into Dee’s stomach, then his chin. Striking back himself, Dee thought nothing of the various blows he dealt, inwardly satisfying some part of himself he’d been unable to acknowledge until this moment.
It was a rather useless fight, Dee fighting because he was sick of being abused, and Randy, because he could never quite forgive the fact that Dee had been right to knock himself unconscious when he had earlier. But pride didn’t allow either of them to back down, and it was only when both of them were thoroughly bloodied, exhausted, not to mention sore, that Dee raised his hands in surrender and collapsed onto the floor, the cold feeling good against his back.
"We're both idiots, aren't we?" Grinning when Randy began to laugh, Dee sat up when the laughter abruptly turned bitter, and dragging himself from the floor, Dee stood, eyeing Randy, one of the man's hands was swung over his closed eyes, and upon looking closer, when a wetness leaked out, trailing down towards Randy’s right ear, Dee crept closer and caught the tear on a fingertip before it could drip into the inner shell of the ear.
Despite both their injuries, Dee sat himself down next to Randy’s lax figure, and pulling the scarred man’s hand away from his face, leaned down and licked away the few tears that had slipped out, aware of the sudden tension that settled in the air, his mouth hovering just slightly over Randy’s, when the Resistance leader closed the distance, Dee couldn’t stop the smile that came over him. It would only be now, with both of them beaten up and vulnerable as all hell that Randy would allow himself to give into Dee’s advances.
It was a painful kiss, in more ways than one, and not just because of Dee’s split lip, for in it, Dee could sense the last remnants of Randy’s anger, and the deep vat that was his sorrow, his frustration, all the emotions he couldn’t properly channel without appearing weak, Randy was trying to convey in a kiss. Only he would try to get someone else to shoulder his burden, or at least try to get Dee to understand why Randy acted why he did, which was unnecessary, because as soon as Dee had come to realize the scarred man was mentally deficient, the pieces of the puzzles had snapped together, forming a whole.
Randy destroyed those on the verge of change because he couldn’t stand being reminded of what he was, couldn’t stand seeing anyone become like him, in a way he understood his condition better than anyone but instead of consciously comprehending it, he chose to lash out against those who had only just began to truly understand his hell. In a perverse way, Randy believed what he was doing was just, and while it did spare others unnecessary pain, it didn’t help atone for the lives he'd taken over the years.
While his mind had been busy reviewing Randy's motives, the kiss had moved beyond innocent, and exploring the mouth against his as deep as he could, Dee's hand shifted towards Randy's waist, busying itself with the man's belt while Randy himself raised his arms, wove them around Dee's neck and pressed himself closer, almost like a cat would cuddle itself around it's owner when it was receiving proficient enough attention.
Shaking off the mental imagery when it began to get distracting, Dee's hand conquered the belt, and slipped in against Randy's stomach, moving further until the groan that slipped from the Resistance leader confirmed he'd indeed found what he wanted. It was a wonder Randy was actually playing submissive in this situation, but given his earlier actions, perhaps this was his way of apologizing, which wouldn�t be off base considering the times he'd comforted Dee without knowing why.
Randy wouldn't know an apology if it bit him in the ass, Dee thought giving a chuckle as fingernails came to dig into his shoulders when the raven-haired man applied a bit more pressure with his hand, then busied his mouth with attending to the earlier bite he'd made on Randy's neck.
It was only when the breath against his ear grew heavier that Dee knew Randy was close, he thought about pushing his luck but Dee had already been allowed more than a glimpse at Randy's sensual side, one he never would have seen otherwise so bypassing his own pleasure, Dee shifted his hand just so, flicking the tip of a thumb against the tip of Randy's most sensitive part, and the man beneath him unraveled completely, his body going into tremors, and Randy's eyelashes fluttering minutely.
It was an enjoyable sight, the Resistance leader at the very moment of climax, all his restraints unhinged, the flushed face, unusually darkened eyes, and the brief show of teeth against his bottom lip as Randy tried to keep relatively quiet, looking more relaxed than Dee had ever seen him before. Surprisingly, the man was a rather quiet partner, only expressing approval of Dee's actions in his body language, which had been open the entire time Dee had been pressed against him.
Uncaring of the mess on his hand, Dee lay down against Randy, and briefly nuzzling the man's neck, closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth beneath him while he could. Who knew when Randy would ever allow him the privilege, if ever, again; this thought in mind, when a hand rose and settled against the back of his neck, playing with the few strands of hair situated there, Dee struggled to keep his face blank but ultimately failed when a grin overturned his mouth. Perhaps this whole mess wasn't as bad as Dee originally thought if he could ever so slowly assist a man in regaining his lost humanity.
To Be Continued...
[1] I'm not a gun expert by any means, so I'm not sure how many bullets are in one clip of a handgun; because of that, I'm also not including any details as to the type of guns the Resistance uses. Sorry. ^^;
[2] You guys know you who are, so forgive me for naming the twins what I did (I was feeling lazy, sue me).