Hollow

Lorelei may not have been the one to pull the trigger on either Lu or his mother, but she was the only one there to listen. She was part of The Initiative, and she had to see what she had gotten herself into. This wasn’t a just cause, it was a goddamn witch hunt. And it wasn’t just mutants getting killed, but innocent people were being dragged into it, too. No chance in hell was he going to take the excuse that it was all for the greater good.

He was slightly taken back by her answer. She had to know what she signed up for. She had to know about The Initiative’s intent. Rhys didn’t know her, but she seemed a lot smarter than that. That, or she elected to be ignorant, which only fueled his frustrations even more. “Then you better wake up, Matthews, because that’s exactly what you signed up for.”

“I had a son.” Idly she wondered if there’d ever be a day when using the past tense to describe Noah wouldn’t bring back that same agony she’d felt upon discovering his preschool in ruins only for it to quickly be smothered back into the hollowness she welcomed by comparison. Lorelei wasn’t sure what had made her give this man her reason when it wasn’t one she’d ever been forthcoming with before. Perhaps a part of her felt he deserved that at the very least, after what her organisation had put him through and how she’d been responsible for him being there in the first place. “That’s who I started all this for.” 

For a moment her eyes are downcast as she tries to work out how much she can say without those watching on the other side thinking she’s been compromised. There’s an idea in her head that she’ll be able to pass it off as some sort of new interrogation technique seeing as he was more than a little hostile to her other attempts. Though if she’s being honest, there’s far more honesty and contrition in her voice than necessary if it is simply a ploy. But maybe there is a part of her that needs forgiveness because she’s almost certain that the moment she allows herself to feel again, she’ll never forgive herself for the blood on her hands. “I started to help people - save them - through rehabilitation. Not death.” That was the last thing she’d wanted except she’d failed miserably in preventing it.

The response to his question regarding the file was unsettling, to say the least. Enough, what the fuck did that mean? Rhys just glared at the woman, not responding to her question. Of course he had help; he couldn’t have dodged The Initiative for so long without it. Had it not been for Sebastian and Orion, he would have definitely been caught long before he reached LA, he knew that much. Rhys was quick on his feet, but The Initiative had more men, had plenty of eyes around even where Rhys couldn’t see. And that thought should have made anyone– and everyone– uncomfortable.

“And you shot her for it,” came his quick, bitter response. He had seen his mother’s file, one of many that he had grabbed when he and Ailie had been hacking into The Initiative’s files. Grabbing whatever seemed important. And maybe he had gotten curious and as soon as he saw his mother’s name on one of the files, he had to read it. Had to see what they knew. It was too much. Far too much. And she was killed, even though she was anything but a menace to society. She helped people. It didn’t make sense to Rhys that she was killed.

“So much for only asking questions. No one gave her a chance, did they?” he asked, his brow furrowed as he glared at the woman in front of him. She may not have been the one to pull the trigger, but in Rhys’ eyes, they were all guilty. They all had her blood on their hands and they all deserved what came to them. “She was killed just because she was a mutant. Never hurt anybody in her life, but that doesn’t matter, yeah? A mutant’s a mutant, so they deserve to be exterminated, isn’t that fucking right?” His tone only became more spiteful as he spoke, waiting for a response from Lorelei. But his shoulders were tense, gaze anything but kind as he stared her down from across the table.

Perhaps she hadn’t been the one to fire the gun this time but she had been in the past and she was guilty by association. There was no hiding or denying what she did, as much as she liked to pretend it was all for the greater good. This man had lost family, just like she had, except there was no accident about the loss he had suffered. It had been cold and calculated where Noah’s death had been pure chance and the most unfortunate instance of wrong place at the wrong time. 

For a long time there was silence before Lorelei managed to find some sort of voice. “No.” It was soft but firm. A clear disagreement to the question that he’d posed. Never once had her view been that mutants deserved death. Not for something they couldn’t help. But she had intended to impose some sort of control - a system so that they could get help with their powers and neutralise the danger they posed simply through their DNA.

“That’s not what I signed up for.” Perhaps there was the slightest repentant note in her voice where it was usually void of any inflection. It was also the truth, though she was unsure she could say much else with who could be listening to their conversation. While she might be severely jaded and disenchanted with the Initiative, it was her life now and if she were being truthful, the woman didn’t know what he had left if she didn’t have it. As twisted as it was, it was what she got up for in the morning - her purpose - and without it she’d fade way.

Rhys glanced down at the file, notepad, and pen she had placed in front of her, resisting the urge to roll his eyes in irritation. Like she expected him to tell her anything. Good fucking luck. “That’s what you said back at the tavern,” he murmured, “now here I am, hands cuffed behind my back after a guy pointed a gun to my head. But sure go ahead, ask away, Lorelei Matthews.”

He was lashing out the only way he could with his hands behind his back and with the looming threat of potentially still having his life on the line. With The Initiative, there was no guarantees that he was going to make it out of this alive. The only reason any of the others that had been in their custody managed to escape was because The Syndicate rescued them. That was the only hope he could bank on at that point. That and none of the others had been caught up in this, either. But he had a feeling at least Wes was there with him, too.

She started looking through the file, Rhys giving little to no reaction himself. He wasn’t sure what they had on him, how much they knew. They had to know about his abilities at least. After all, he had tried to heal Lu right in front of them all those years ago. They knew now he was in L.A. Did they know where he worked? His address? Who he would hang out with? When she spoke his name, Rhys’ gaze met hers. “That all you got on me? File looks a little thin.”

There was a thin, completely humourless smile that touched her lips at his comment that was more for show than anything else, just like every smile that had come since the death of her son. Perhaps someone else would have found humour in the fact that if they had their way the file wouldn’t remain thin for long, and yet despite recognising the irony it failed to conjure any true joy or amusement. 

“We have enough.” The words aren’t sharp nor are they soft. As ever they’re completely neutral, devoid of anything at all. No insight given to her state of mind when in reality it’s just as dead as her tone. “Although I have to say, you are very good at disappearing. Did you have help?” Her question was in direct reference to their records of sightings of him that hadn’t lead to any capture. In fact, if it hadn’t been for the raid it was likely he could have continued to avoid them.

Blue eyes found the page once more before falling to where his suspected power was listed: healing. It was hardly the most threatening ability they could possess but Lorelei refused to have one rule for someone and another for another. It might not sit well with her but she followed orders. “You can heal like your mother it would appear.”

Nobody told Connor guns would be so heavy.

He swallowed nervously, both hands choking up on the handle of the gun like it was a sword or something, fingers interlaced. One finger was resting on the trigger, waiting to fire. The gun’s barrel tipped down under its own weight, and Connor tried to lock his arms out. He knew enough to know that was bad, that gun have recoil and locking your arms could cause stress fractures. So he tried to hold his arms steady and relax them at the same time, which was proving more difficult than he had anticipated.

All around him, other guns were firing into paper targets. Connor could hear their muted firings through large yellow earmuffs. They sounded so much farther away, even though he could almost reach over to touch the shooter on his left. Down a sight was a man’s fake silhouette, waiting to be pumped full of holes. Connor licked his lips, and tried to sight down the barrel. Steady. Breath. Like archery, only deadlier.

CRACK!

The gun fired and Connor’s body was forced back a step, the recoil of the Glock in his hand reverberating up his arms painfully. The boy just gritted his teeth and lined up again. He’d have to get used to that if he intended to use a gun. And he intended to learn. If Left Blank was any indicator, he’d need a mortal weapon at his side to end a Corinthian. The fact that he hadn’t learned to shoot before now was a sign that he was lucky. His family had been there to protect him. He knew how to use a knife, sure, but a gun would end a Corinthian before he was ever in danger. So learning was important. So he exhaled, lined up the sight, finger resting on the trigger until he was ready.

CRACK!

The gun fired again, missing the target for a second time. “Shit!” He swore a little louder than he intended. His dad had never been a gun type. He never took Connor hunting or shooting as he grew up. Learning on his own was a little tougher. You could google stuff till the cows came home, but it didn’t work the same as if you had a teacher.

It was true that she was almost unrecognisable now, even to herself. Perhaps that was why she’d stopped returning her family’s phone calls a couple of months into her training. It just hadn’t felt right any more. At the best of times she’d often felt disconnected from them - never as pretty or as smart or as outgoing. But after Noah’s death it was the worst of times and she just couldn’t bring herself to keep ties when she knew she was no longer the same person.

This entirely new person that had hollowed out the old her almost needed the rhythmic firing of a gun to unwind at times and with the current situations her body was constantly tense, even if she couldn’t claim to feel stress any more. But it had been in need of that relief that she’d sought out a firing range, wanting some privacy from the rest of her organisation when she’d spent too long cooped up with them already.

After firing a few rounds off she’d rolled her shoulders and gone to adjust the earmuffs she was wearing, even if they were almost pointless given how many times she’d heard her gun at its full volume, only to hear someone cursing to her side. Eyebrows raised she took in the scene, and spoke without humour or condescension, simply observation. “You look a little out of practice there.” 

“Would you like some pointers?”

All Rhys had seen was darkness for quite a while. His hands were still cuffed behind his back, hands gripping his arms to push him this way and tug him that way. He didn’t know where he had been going, had no idea who else was with him, other than potentially Wes. He should have stepped in sooner, gave him a chance to get out. But it was too late to do much about it now. He was in a new Initiative facility, that was a given since he had the infamous black bag pulled over his head.

He wondered about the others he had seen in the tavern, even those not present. Were they all right? Did they manage to stay safe? Are they alive? Or were some of the others stuck with him? He hoped the last question wasn’t true, hoped they managed to evade capture– or worse– and made it to the Estate or anywhere safe. But was anywhere safe in L.A. anymore?

Rhys had always been careful about who he spoke to about what. They couldn’t know about the others, didn’t know anything about any safe spots, at least from him. The Estate still had to be safe. His home still had to be safe… for now. His gut twisted at the doubt, his heart racing. Sebastian had still been at his home, had no idea what was going on, maybe didn’t even know where he was. Quite a bit of time had passed since the raid, the ache of the bruise beneath his eye still prominant. Sebastian was all right, he could take care of himself…

He had been sitting in a chair for a while before the black bag was pulled from his head. Rhys’ eyes shut tightly, too adjusted to the darkness beneath the bag. With a shake of his head, he opened his eyes again and took a look around the room. Immediately, his gaze fell on the woman across from him, a familiar face from the tavern. But not a face he was keen on seeing again. Even though she had tried to take them in peacefully, she still was one of them– The Initiative. He glared at her across the table, jaw clenched.

“Long time no see,” he muttered sarcastically, anything but amused to see her again. He was angry that he was caught, stressed out over the others, worried that The Initiative would be after them, too. Afraid that Sebastian wasn’t safe, either. But he wasn’t going to say one word to them about any of the others.

But just as she’d played her part in the day, only slightly placated by the fact no bullet had been fired fro her gun, she had one to play now. Interrogations were something that usually went well for her. Most seemed to respond to her calm demeanour, recognising her to be one of the lesser demons that walked the halls of the compound.

Only time would tell if this man would be the same. As she pulled off the black bag, always a relief to her that she could provide them with light again, there was recognition written across her features. This was one of the men she’d confronted and just like back in the bar she was greeted with another sharply sarcastic reply as she took her sieat across from him.

Perhaps she should have felt something when greeted with such animosity, it was perhaps one of the largest demonstrations of just how turned off her emotions were that it had such a little affect on her when up until five years ago how others perceived her had been so important to her. Not any more. There was no room for wondering what all those captured by her hated her - the answer seemed pretty obvious. But she suspected that even if she still allowed herself the same range of emotions that had used to flow through her she would have become desensitised to the looks of loathing aimed at her. After all, there were only so many times you could be on the receiving end and not harden your heart to it.

Pulling out her pen, ready to make notes on anything the man might give her, there was a little clearing of her throat before she started. “My name is Lorelei Matthews, I’m just here to ask you a few questions.” Maybe it was foolish for her to give her name but she doubted she’d ever see this man on the outside and even if she did there was little regard left in her for her own self preservation. Eyes drifted to the rather limited file on the man that they had. A healer, not exactly someone who posed any threat but rules were rules. She was there for answers and she was hoping she'd get them. “It’s Rhys, isn’t it?”

He spun around to try and help Wes with the woman, who seemed to be far more skilled in fighting than her partners were. While he was in the clear in that moment, he wasn’t planning on leaving Wes behind to try and fight his way out on his own. Not when Rhys could help him. He stepped forward, but froze at the click of the safety on a pistol in his right ear.

Rhys froze in place, only his gaze turning to his left. He only caught the sight of a shadow on his left, then a demand to put his hands up. Fuck. Rhys was quick, but not fast enough to dodge a bullet. He wasn’t going to risk trying to disarm the guy and get his head blown off in the process. The sinking realization hit him as his hands rose up to his shoulders, palms out as his jaw clenched. He wasn’t getting home that night. And Seb wouldn’t know. All he knew was that Rhys was going out and would be home soon. Soon was quickly turning into never, and Sebastian was going to be alone again.

Soon enough, he heard the rush of footsteps behind him, his arms yanked down behind him as his hands were cuffed behind him. His gaze turned from Wes and the woman struggling on the floor to the chaos all around them. Bodies running and fists flying everywhere, glass shattering and guns shooting off rang in his ears. But through the crowd, he managed to catch sight of a familiar red head. Friday. She looked so afraid– why was she there? She should have been far from there, anywhere but in the tavern. Away from all this danger.

Rhys’ gaze met hers for a brief moment, hoping none of the guards restraining him spotted him, especially when his lips opened and formed one wordless demand: “Run.”

Then the black bag was slipped over his head.

But he also didn’t want to get a black bag put over his head. Didn’t want to wind up in a facility somewhere. He liked his life the way it was and he’d, for the most part, had been minding his own business. Hadn’t used his powers for anything other than small vandalism in the past year or so. He didn’t embrace being what he was with any sort of vigor and it seemed unfair to him to be persecuted just because his DNA was a little different. But then again, he supposed that’s what the whole argument about all of this was about. Nothing about the Initiative and what they did was fair. 

The woman on top of him commands him to stay down and maybe there was another joke on the tip of his tongue, or maybe there was more fight in him that could have got him to try and flip her. To reverse their positions. But there’s guns pointed in his direction and towards Rhys and towards other people he cares about. So he winds up just nodding. 

“Alright, alright,” he tells her, his hands splayed to show that he’s not fighting back. There’s a war going on in his mind, that if he fights back, maybe he’ll go in with broken bones or bullets. But if he goes nicely from here on out, maybe there’d be some mercy. Maybe it’d be better to go in with himself in tact – just in case there’s a chance to escape later on. 

But Wes, being Wes, couldn’t help the slight smirk on his lips. Because there’s also the thought that he takes everything in life with the same grain of salt. And if he loses that now, then there’s no point. “You know, you’re kind of hot in this position.” 

If him ceasing to fight takes her by surprise there’s nothing that knocks her more off guard than his next words. For a moment she’s still and almost wide eyed before glancing away only for the coolness in her gaze to have reappeared. “Not funny.” For once it didn’t refer to the lack of humour that was generally felt these days, the lack of anything really, and more to do with how she perceived it to be cruel to say such a thing when it was something she hadn’t heard in years. Maybe he was playing games or maybe he genuinely meant it but it made little difference as she cuffed his wrists with a click that sounded a lot like finality. 

Standing slowly, she planted her feet firmly before reaching down to pull the man too his feet. There was a wariness in her gaze as she did. He might be being compliant now but that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t try something the moment he got to his feet.

But it never happened and she found herself being handed a black bag by one of her fellow agents. It was perhaps the part she found most unnecessary. A humiliating and likely terrifying experience when the man could still be innocent - she’d never known someone with something to hide let themselves be brought in so easily. But still, it was protocol and she’d been following it for better or for wore the past five years. 

Ignoring the chaos still going on around them, Lorelei led the man outside and into one of the vans. Her task was now complete but it was only the beginning.