#aca writes

There were other things he didn’t understand about her. A lot of them were in some way connected to that dramatic impulse which ran through every action she took. It was as though being a villain intent on overthrowing the current ruling regime and replace it with her own rule wasn’t enough for her. She had to somehow stand out from the rest of the would be dictators and tyrants. Like many of them, she had decided to go dramatic to do so.

Logan was fairly certain that by trying to stand out, she just made herself fade more into the background because it was hard to tell her apart from any other cackling villain giving a monologue about their latest plan. 

Still, as far as super villains went, he had worked for worse. He had spent several particularly unpleasant years stuck as head ‘henchman’ for a particularly inept villain who considered himself a mad scientist even though it had been Logan who had done most of the work. Logan would have quit long ago if it hadn’t been for the awkward fact that he had accidentally agreed to let the man genetically tag him. Logan never made the same mistake twice however and he made doubly sure to read every contract before signing it. 

If it hadn’t been for the heroes eventually shutting him down and one of them wiping the hard drives that contained Logan’s bio-metric passport, he would still be stuck there, more a slave than anything else.

As it was, he had been able to escape in the confusion, quickly getting himself another job with another villain. 

Logan didn’t fool himself. He didn’t consider himself a particularly good person. Then again, he didn’t consider himself a particularly bad one either. He worked for her because the pay was good and because - for the most part - he agreed with her aims should she ever actually manage to take over the world. At this point, he was starting to wonder if she could even manage to take over the city. 

How hard could it be to take over a city? Not that Logan would ever question her on that. He valued his own skin too highly for that and he learnt almost right away that you didn’t insult or question the boss. 

It had led to many bitten cheeks over the years but that was a price Logan was willing to pay rather than being vaporised on the spot. Or worse, agonisingly tortured to death for insolence, like so many of his rather stupid colleagues over the years. 

Sometimes, he wondered why he had never taken the step to become a super villain in his own right. He could probably do a much better job of it that most of his employers. He wouldn’t waste time telling the heroes his plans. He would merely dispose of them and move on.  

Still, if he had done that, then he might never have met - no. Best not to think, to second guess himself in the hypothetical. 

It wouldn’t be death. He wouldn’t kill and that was one of the reasons why he was content to remain as a head scientist or tech in whatever evil organisation he was currently working for. With the aforementioned mad scientist excluded, all his previous evil employers had nothing but positive things to say about him. He had glowing references - in the case of the one from a radioactive villain, quite literally glowing. 

He didn’t particularly want to take over the world. The neat and logical order that would come with him ruling was a tempting prospect but Logan had no desire for all the work that came with it. He would be content with ruling his own little area as promised. 

Right now, however, he was seriously considering handing his notice in. Honestly, he had been considering the concept for a while now, ever since her latest... hire. He didn’t mind working with someone else so long as they either knew their place or could match him in intelligence. They could never do the later but they tended to fall into the former. Or else he convinced her to get rid of them. Logan never really lost much sleep over what ‘got rid of’ could mean in the context of a super villain. It was just part of life and he moved on from it.

But the latest helper had been different. He could almost match Logan in talent. If it wasn’t for the rather unfortunate little fact that he was a prisoner and being held against his will then they would have gotten along splendidly from the start. 

As it stood, it had taken them weeks to get past the rather frosty greetings each shift. The chains and guards probably didn’t help matters but Logan couldn’t understand why he was so opposed to making the best of a bad situation. It didn’t matter that he might not agree with her methods - he was her prisoner and it would be logical to go along with her wishes to save himself further pain.

Virgil hadn’t thought much of that logic. Which had resulted in more beatings that Logan had thought strictly necessary. He needed him intact for their work. 

Eventually, Virgil had settled into some kind of grumpy obedience, enough that they were able to converse - albeit still with a guard present - and make progress on various work orders from the boss. Logan had come to rather admire Virgil’s brain in those weeks and eventually something approaching a friendship had been formed. Enough that Logan could trust Virgil not to stab him in the back. Enough for him to be able to produce some very useful items for his boss. 

Enough to start to give him doubt about if it was... right, to keep Virgil here against his will.

He was safer here. There was little chance of attack because if there was one thing Ms Dragon Witch was good at, it was keeping her secret lairs, well secret. Virgil was the first ‘heroic’ prisoner she had ever brought to her base, and he was never allowed out of the lab or the cell he was kept in next to it. Logan had a horrible suspicion he was sedated whenever she wished to see him so that Virgil couldn’t learn the layout of the base. 

All the better for Virgil. The less he knew, the less danger he was in. The less chance there was that he would think to make an escape attempt - not that Logan thought Virgil was that foolish, he was too smart to risk himself on such a small chance of success. 

There were no fights down here, no chance of being caught in the crossfire. Just food, a roof and the chance to work on his projects. What more could anyone need?

According to Virgil, quite a lot. He wanted to go home, and he didn’t insult Logan’s intelligence by pretending that had changed. He wanted his brother and his other friends, no matter how idiotic he called them. He wanted to not be a prisoner. That last one, at least, Logan could sympathise with. 

But if Logan gave in his notice, there was no way that his Boss, would allow him to take Virgil as a leaving present. He was her prized possession, her trophy and she adored having him brought to her chambers to gloat about whatever recent mission that had gone well. It was all rather inconsiderate of her, since more often than not the two of them had been deep in work when the summons had arrived.

Not to mention how pale and shaken his assistant always was when he was eventually returned to him. Virgil would take hours and sometimes a whole day to recover and get back into the groove of things. He couldn’t help but wonder what exactly she showed him. 

More and more, he felt like there had to be something he could do to aid Virgil, but he had yet to come up with a plan that didn’t get them all killed. If only Virgil could be reconciled to his new life. If only his boss would stop tormenting him so Logan could convince him of the merits. If only his friend wasn’t being hurt every day while Logan simple worked on his projects. 

It was a worry in the back of his mind, nothing more. It wasn’t a distraction and he refused to allow himself to be sidetracked by anything. Logan certainly wasn’t using those thoughts as an excuse for what had happened earlier today when Dragon Witches attempted attack on City Hall had been thwarted by the heroes. Her escape had been a close thing, with Logan’s devices barely functioning. Certainly not as he had intended. 

So his invention had failed. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Not even a genius like Logan could claim to have a one hundred percent success rate as much as he might wish otherwise. He was convinced that it wasn’t malicious but merely creator - or more likely user - error. He would improve on them and the same mistake would never happen again. 

The problem seemed to be his bosses increasingly paranoid view of the world. And how she didn’t seem to believe him that it had been an innocent accident. Instead, she had summoned him for this meeting, threw flame around his chair and then started ranting. Accusing him of either sabotaging the devices himself in the hope she would be captured or turning a blind eye to allow Virgil to do it to his work. 

It was insulting to think that he would betray his own values so lightly. He worked hard for his money, he worked hard for his reputation. He wouldn’t sacrifice it for mere sentiment, no matter how increasingly unstable she was becoming. He would simply quit, as he had considered. He certainly wouldn’t allow Virgil to sabotage his work, no matter how uneasy he felt about their partnership because that would be sabotaging everything Logan held dear. 

A shame, he couldn’t help but feel that she failed to see the beauty in those logical thoughts. Or the truth in them. 

She stood a few paces in front of him, having finally stopped her relentless prowling backwards and forwards. Deceptively delicate looking hands rested on her hips as she stared at him over the flames. As always, she was dripping in jewellery, rings on every finger, multiple bracelets and bangles jangling on her wrists with every little motion. Logan had always wanted to point out the fact that she made noises with her jewellery when she moved probably didn’t help her plans to be stealthy.

Once again, a healthy respect for his own skin staying intact had kept him quiet. Just as he kept quiet about the hideous fashion choice that was her ‘uniform’. A tight fitting gold and silver dress with a slit almost up to her waist might be her idea of seductive but as Virgil had once so rightly described her, she looked almost... tacky, than anything else. Coupled with the high heels she insisted on wearing, it certainly wasn’t a practical outfit but he swallowed down the biting comments he wished to say. 

Working for a super villain could be so exhausting sometimes. 

“So you still refuse to admit your guilt Dr. Logic?” 

“I cannot admit to something I didn’t do Ms Dragon Witch.” There was no point in losing his temper even now. She would have to see reason eventually. All he had to do was explain things in smaller words until she eventually understood. He knew he was in the right and given enough time he was confident that he could convince her of that. All Logan had to do was stay alive long enough for her anger to fade and leave her more open to reason. 

“Fine,” she snapped. “You say you didn’t do it, thus logically you have nothing to be worried about it. In which case, I am sure you won’t mind what is about to happen.” One hand lifted into the air, the various bracelets making an all too familiar jingle jangle as they did. She didn’t say or do anything else but he had no doubt that the movement was a recognised signal for something. 

“Why?” Logan asked. He had to ask, he had to know. “What is about to happen?”

She smiled, something cold and empty. The fire that still raged around him seemed to be the only hot thing left in the room. Logan had thought he wanted her to calm down, to stop ranting and raving at him but now that she had done just that, he found her expression... disconcerting in the extreme. She was up to something. Her devious mind had been one of the attractions to accepting the job in the first place but he had never planned to be on the receiving end of her schemes. 

“I am not convinced of your honesty Dr. Logic. I think that little assistant I gave you has been messing with you. Maybe you don’t even realise what he has been doing hmm? Maybe you’re not as smart as you like to think and he’s been tricking you? Maybe you are falling for his poor little me act?” 

She was talking about Virgil, Logan realised with an unpleasant jolt. She was acting as though Virgil was manipulating him, that he was the victim here. 

Logan didn’t doubt that Virgil would take advantage of a situation like that if the opportunity presented itself to him. Virgil was a survivor and you didn’t become one of those by forever following the rules. He wanted to get out of here and back to the place that he called home. Of course he would leap at any chance. That didn’t mean there had been any chance for him to do that. Logan made sure that he wasn’t faced with any such temptation. 

And how dare she think that Logan would be that foolish as to fall for such a thing? Logan might have some latent sympathy for the predicament that Virgil found himself in but there was no way he would be so foolish as to help him. Not like that. Helping like that would only lead to pain. Logan was keen to keep both of them away from that. 

Also, he was just smarter in general than to be fooled by someone trying to sabotage his work behind his back.

“I can assure you that you are incorrect. My work was not tampered with, either by myself or my assistant. Sometimes projects do not work as well as intended. Surely you can appreciate such a fact?” 

It was cutting perilously close to the bone, to make such a comment. To remind her of all her own failures. Logan however, was starting to become a little desperate. He couldn’t decide if the way she ignored him was a good thing or not. Dragon Witch curled some of her dark brown hair between her fingers, twisting it into a tighter and tighter circle as she carried on speaking. Her voice was light, almost musing but no less deadly because of that. 

“Either way I’m going to have to punish him for your failure.”

It was my failure!” Logan protested. He tried to ignore how his heart leapt into his mouth at the sight of the still form of Virgil being dragged into the room. The purple haired man was held by his arms, hanging limply between two of her guards, head bowed. It didn’t comfort Logan to get confirmation of his theory that she kept him unconscious from room to room. Normally, being proved right was a sure fire way to cheer Logan up. It settled and reassured him. 

Seeing Virgil in such a weakened state didn’t do that this time. 

“Ah the guest of honour,” she purred, turning away from Logan, her attention momentarily lost by the new arrival. It gave Logan a chance to shift a little in his seat, trying to get a better view of Virgil. It was hard to tell over the flames but he was confident that Virgil was at least breathing - it remained to be seen if that would actually be a good thing or not. 

Ms Dragon Witch clicked her fingers, pointing towards another chair, set in perfect symmetry to Logan’s own. There was a circle of dust around it, powder that Logan knew could turn to flame at a moment’s notice. How he had failed to notice it before was beyond him, but then again, his attention had been fixed on the danger in front of him. Not the seating arrangements opposite him. 

Virgil was deposited none too gently in the chair, his head still slumped forward on his chest. 

“Finally, time to play. What do you say Dr. Logic? Shall we test some theories?”

“Theories?” Logan repeated back to her, gaze darting between his boss and his assistant. The flames had to be getting to him at last, because he could feel sweat beads springing up along his forehead. “I am a man of science, you know I am always interested in proving or disproving theories.” 

“Excellent! Let’s find out just what happened shall we? And how long it takes for my little toy to scream this time.” 

Her smile was as unsettling as before, sharp and cutting. She threw back her head and laughed, a super villain finally indulging herself to her limit. Logan had seen her in these moods before, but he had never been on the receiving end of one. He had always known better but now, through no fault of his own it appeared as though he was about to get a taste of her at her worst. 

Or was it, Virgil was about to learn just how evil she could actually be? 

It was hard work trying to take over a city so that the people within would finally recognise the genius talent and beauty that resided within him. But it was a job that Roman was reluctantly and nobly, prepared to accept. 

And then once the city was his, he would be able to make sure that everyone within was safe. Well, the ones that weren’t his brothers playthings. And not the ones who had opposed him too many times. Maybe not the ones that Deceit would want to make examples of. But everyone else. They would be safe. And he would show his mercy by forgiving the one that had stood against him for longer than anyone else. He would have his arch nemesis by his side in fact. He might even let those pesky hero friends of his live, should they pledge their allegiance to him. 

King Roman. Prince no more. With his dark haired hero by his side and a cowed populace jumping to do his every bidding. He would put on shows, would thrill audiences with sell out performances. He would punish the wicked, the wrong doers who thought they could hurt innocent people in his territory. Everything would be so much better than this mess that the heroes were currently labouring so pointlessly to protect. 

One day. One day they would realise how futile their efforts would be. One day they would see how much better things could be if they did it Roman’s way. One day he would be worshipped and loved as he deserved. 

He smiled to himself, the pleasant daydreams filling his mind. There was nothing to do today. No pressing need to leave his house. He was having a me day, which meant no robbing banks or committing crimes in the hope of getting attention. Tomorrow was for all of that. Today he was going to sing, he was going to eat a delicious meal and he was going to - maybe - go out for a walk later and see what pleasant sights he could see in soon to be Romanville. 

He glanced up at the various screens above his head, idly taking in the various scenes from inside and out of his home. Well, half personal home, half secret lair, all fabulous. Everything had style and everything was in its proper place. As it should be. All the better to impress his fellow villains. And maybe one or two heroes.

Okay, one hero. 

Still, anyone who had seen his hero would understand. The normal rules didn’t apply to him, the normal distance they were meant to keep between the two sides. He was a flame and Roman little more than a moth. Willingly throwing himself on the burning fire time and time again without a care for the consequences. 

Movement in one of the screens caught his attention, Roman freezing in place as he stared at the scene playing out in front of him.

A familiar figure stumbled up his path, hunched up and hoodie pulled over his head. If that was his idea at a civilian look, it was terrible. The little things made all the difference - and four wings sticking out of his back were hardly little. They gave the game away as clearly as if he was wearing his superhero costume. Speak of the dev- no, hardly a devil. Roman smoothed down a grin at the thought and the imagined reaction should his unexpected visitor learn that he had been compared to a devil. 

Well, well, well. If it wasn’t his little angel. Roman had been starting to suspect that the hero had been avoiding him ever since - well, ever since he had finally gotten a taste of what he wanted. Since they had both gotten a taste of what they wanted. 

Roman had half wondered if his desire would end once he had finally caught his prey. It was what normally happened. The thrill was in the chase, was in being denied and testing, trying, until eventually he was able to steal away his heart's desire. Once he had the object or person in his arms, the desire seemed spent. Things always looked better from a distance.

It hadn’t been like that with his angel. 

The chase had been thrilling of course. So many times, Roman hadn’t really known who was chasing who. A breathtaking game of cat and mouse as each circled the other. There had been flirting, teasing and it had been a most delightful distraction from the more boring elements of life. Virgil’s face the first time he had escaped police custody and purred that next time perhaps the hero should use fluffy cuffs to trap him was an image that he still treasured. 

As with all chases though, there had to be an end. Roman knew he had drawn it out. He had hesitated, lingered before landing the final blow. Part of him hadn’t wanted to end it because no matter how wonderful that moment was going to be, surely it couldn’t be as much fun as all of this.

The end had still come of course. They had bumped into each other as civilians in a pub. Virgil was too socially anxious and awkward to just start a fight while they were both ‘normal’ looking. Not to mention all the possible casualties around them. Instead he had announced his intention to stick close to Roman in order to foil whatever evil scheme he might have planned.

His only scheme that night had been to get drunk. Now it had changed, into getting the both of them drunk and who knew his little angel was so naughty when he had a couple of beers in him? 

They had only shared one night together and it should have been enough. He had proved that his hero wasn’t as clean and as perfect as he would no doubt like to believe. He had enjoyed himself and what was more, he knew that Virgil had enjoyed himself. No matter what he might tell himself in the morning. For a villain like the Dazzling Prince, it should have been a victory but also a line in the sand.  

Roman only wanted more. 

The hero hadn’t seemed to share that sentiment. It had been a little insulting in all honesty - Virgil should have come crawling back to him, desperate for more kisses, more touches. Roman was good in bed, good with romance. He knew how to kiss someone senseless, how to make them happy. Virgil should have wanted that. He should have been unable to resist. 

Instead he had seemed almost... cold. Far more chilly than Roman was expecting. 

All the quips had vanished from their encounters. All the fun. Virgil barely showed up half the time, sending other heroes to battle him whenever he could. On the rare occasions that he could lure out his angel for a battle, Virgil had been blank. Barely there and all the fun had gone out of their relationship. He didn’t flirt back, didn’t stick around for a second longer than he had to. It was as though they were strangers instead of the more that the Prince had worked so hard to cultivate, the more he saw in his head. 

Roman didn’t like it. Which was a woeful understatement of course. He hated it. He hated being ignored at the best of times but this was so much worse than any of those moments. This was being ignored by the man he wanted by his side. The one he knew could be so much more if only free of all the petty restraints of public morality. 

He hadn’t yet come up with the perfect plan as to how to steal back Virgil’s heart and now it seemed as though he didn’t need to because after all this time, he had come to him. 

Drunk again perhaps? 

Well, that was an insult to Roman once more. That he was only worthy of Virgil’s attention when the hero had drunk himself into near oblivion. Roman was a proud strong villain. Not that he liked the term villain. Anti hero perhaps. Yes, that was better. That described how he saw himself. He didn’t want to tear down society for the sake of it, but only because society was broken. Roman had a vision, he had a dream. The world was going to be so much better once he and his friends got control of it. 

Regardless of titles, he was more than some... thing on the side for Virgil to indulge in. He wasn’t a dirty secret in that respect. Roman wasn’t interested in being just a passing fancy for the hero. It was strange, it was staggering, it went against everything Roman had ever thought about relationships up to this point, but he wanted something official. He wanted Virgil on his arm. Not just a series of late night visits. 

He would worry about that later. First though, he had a guest to greet. A delicious little fly wandering into his web all of his own accord. Roman was going to enjoy this. A second try and this time he wasn’t going to let this one slip through his fingers.  

Luckily, he was still dressed in his princely garb, Roman smoothing down the tunic as he walked through his home and out the front door. Virgil was standing a few paces in front of it, swaying ever so slightly. As if in time to some invisible tune. His wings rustled and shifted with the movement, feathers fluttering delicately in the night air. Virgil was so beautiful, that for a moment it actually took Roman’s breath away. Thankfully, Virgil hadn’t seemed to notice him yet, which gave him the moment he needed to recover and slip into the role of the Prince. 

“Well, well. If it isn’t my pet hero. Come to discuss terms of your surrender? I promise to be... generous,” Roman said, voice pitched low into what he hoped was a seductive purr. It was always hard with Virgil, he rarely got the reaction he expected from him. Which was, he had to admit, part of the fun. And a lot of the frustration. He offered Virgil a smile, something knowing and teasing in his expression. 

If nothing else, he could normally make Virgil flustered and that was sometimes enough. Or at least, it had been, before the night they had shared together. Now Roman wanted to bring him inside and never let him go. He didn’t want flustered if flustered meant Virgil would leave him and his Virgil wasn’t supposed to leave him. 

Virgil looked up. Those piercing grey eyes, normally so focused and full of life, of fire were distant, confused. Roman was used to seeing him look at him with passion. Normally a passionate anger, but there had been times when he had seen other passion, had seen a smile in those eyes that Virgil had never dared show on his face. Now, it was as if Virgil was looking at someone he barely recognised. 

Roman didn’t like that at all. Those eyes were beautiful. Virgil’s gaze had always made him feel powerful. It was almost intoxicating at times, the rush he felt from knowing the winged hero was watching him and although he would never admit it, some of his more daring stunts had been performed purely because of that. Now, Virgil was looking at him and Roman didn’t feel that familiar, giddy rush of warmth and pleasure. 

This wasn’t drink. Roman had seen Virgil - and plenty of people - drunk. He knew the difference between drink and drugs. A wound? Was his precious angel hurt? He felt a swell of self righteous anger rise up in him at that thought.

Who would have dared lay a finger on Virgil? Roman thought he had been very clear on the matter. Nobody was to touch Virgil. They could fight him if he came to try and thwart them. They could defend themselves of course and try and defeat him but there had been an agreement in place. No death. No serious wounds. And should anyone actually capture him, Roman would gladly buy the prisoner off them. 

Virgil blinked a couple of times before smiling, his gaze still wavering and uncertain. There was a hint in those eyes though, a reassuring glint of the Virgil that he knew. 

“So... sorry,” Virgil slurred, words coming out far too faint for Roman’s liking. “Didn’t... didn’t know where else to go.” 

He took another step forward, legs folding up under him as he moved, his body dropping towards the ground. Roman moved without thinking too, trying to catch him before he fell completely. Roman had forgotten to take into account his wings, either the sheer number of them or the weight that multiple pairs of wings added to a person’s body. 

The pair crashed to the ground in a tangled mix of limbs and wings. Far, far too many wings. They were fluttered all over the two of them, creating a mess of wings that shielded the pair of them from the outside world. It was almost nice, cocooned inside Virgil’s wings. Roman couldn’t help but feel safe here, protected from anything else. 

The way Virgil was pressed close against him was a delicious bonus.

They couldn’t keep lying here though. It wasn’t safe. Roman still had no idea what had happened to him. For all he knew, there could be someone chasing him and while he felt secure within the feathers, he knew it wasn’t true safety. He had to get them both inside. Nobody could get inside his home without his permission - or get out. 

“Come on angel, can you stand for me?” Roman coaxed and his plans hadn’t taken into account the idea that Virgil might be too out of it to be able to stand. How was he supposed to seduce him from the path of boring righteousness and towards the path of fun if he was too out of it to even hear any of his very reasonable and tempting words? 

Virgil’s whole body stiffened, moving upwards and pulling Roman with him. In a flash, they were both standing upright once more, Virgil holding him and it felt good to be in his arms once more. Good and yet... wrong. So very wrong. 

Roman’s eyes narrowed. That... that was different. That wasn’t like his hero at all. Virgil swayed a little as he stood there. There hadn’t been a single comment or complaint, just simply doing as he was told. Roman needed to test this. He needed to know if that had just been a fluke or not. And he had the perfect way to do it. There was no way that Virgil would willingly agree to what Roman had in mind now. No way at all. Surely? 

“Kneel,” he ordered, voice husky. There wasn’t even the slightest pause before Virgil was doing just that. The winged hero sunk to his knees in front of of Roman, quiet and obedient.  

Roman sucked in a deep breath as he looked down at him and oh - he hadn’t been expecting that. Not the willingness for Virgil to drop to his knees in front of him and look up with such trust in his eyes. Or the way that Roman’s whole body felt as though a jolt of lightning had struck it. He felt electrified in the best sense of the word, alive in a way that Roman hadn’t thought possible. All because of those eyes staring up at him.

He reached out, hand gently cupping Virgil’s cheek. Still, Virgil didn’t move, didn’t protest. Some part of Roman knew this was wrong even for him. His Virgil was a creature of fire and desire. He was abrasive, argumentative, he fought against everything. It was annoying at times, but it was part of what had attracted him to Virgil in the first place. 

To have him so docile and well behaved now felt wrong. But it was hard to focus on that that feeling when Virgil was leaning into his touch, his eyes warm and open. As trusting as before. Someone had done this to him, someone had hurt him, changed him. It was benefiting Roman right now, but he didn’t know what other side effects there could be to whatever was affecting him. 

There was only one person he could think of that was dumb enough to attack Roman’s hero. One person who would ignore that claim Roman had on Virgil. 

Virgil finds him in the rain. 

Pounding his hands against the closed door to Virgil’s cabin. He’s built it deep in the forest so that nobody will ever find him and yet here is a human. All alone, slapping his hands against the heavy wood and begging to be let in. Shouting some stupid story about going for a walk and getting lost, only for the bad weather to trap him. Scent alerts him to the intruder in his forest long before the man reaches his home, long enough for Virgil to slip out a window and circle around to come upon him from the back. 

This boy - Roman, he will cheerfully tell him later, as if names are something to casually thrown about like falling leaves - doesn’t appear to fear the woods, only the dangers the cold and wet will bring his weak mortal form. It will take Virgil a lot longer to use the name out loud. Even longer to offer his own up. All that is for later. Right now, all Virgil can think about is the inescapable truth of this moment. 

They have forgotten him.

A monster lurks in the forest, a creature of tooth and claw. One that had hunted their settlement on the orders of his master. It has been mere decades since the leash snapped and they have forgotten him. Or have they? For a moment, Virgil feels a familiar panic. The human is bait, is a trap. The scientists have finally tracked him down and they are going to drag him back there, they are going to study what he can do. Virgil will die first. 

This human should die but he is the first human Virgil has seen in years. The first one who can tell him anything of what is happening in the world beyond the trees. His home is his prison, his isolation his punishment. Far away from the village, from the humans, from the memories of all the sins he committed against them. Their blood is on his hands, and no matter how many storms he wanders in, the rain will never wash that away. It’s his penance, although he knows that no amount of regret or isolation can ever wipe his slate clean. The red builds up rather than decreases. 

Perhaps it is the knowledge of all his failures that finally inspires Virgil to speak rather than attack, to cause this intruder to spin around to face him. Roman falls half unconscious in his arms, sagging bodily into him. Virgil cannot help but catch him, carry him into his home and save his life. Warm him by the fire, cook a meal and plan the best way to get the human home as quickly as he can. Virgil is a monster but even he will not kill the wounded beast that crawls to his feet for shelter. 

Barely conscious, shuffling halfheartedly towards the fire, drawn by the heat more than any deliberate thought. A drowned rat rather than a human. 

Still more vibrant than Virgil has been. He is still life in all its glory. Like Snow-White and Red-Rose, sisters who met a bear and were not afraid. A bear who was a prince under it all, waiting for the chance to break his curse, shunned by everyone but those girls.

He’s no prince. There is nothing under his bearskin but more of the same, more animal and monster, more rage, always more, more, more. There is no curse to break, no redemption for the bear who lives alone and will one day die alone, forgotten. There is no possibility for any redemption anyway, and so no need for a prince to enter his life.

Virgil knows all this. He knows where this path will lead them both, and he knows it will only bring them pain.

Yet Roman curls up on his bed as though it isn't too hard or too soft. As if he’s Goldilocks after all.

(then I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I - 

No, that’s the Big Bad Wolf.

Is there a Big Bad Bear?

It's only a fairy tale if he is the villain.

He doesn't deserve any other ending.)

When Roman leaves, he tries not to mourn the absence of the other. Virgil had forgotten what it felt like to have company again, for someone to look at him and see more than a body to use or abuse. It had felt a little, as though when the human had looked at him, Roman saw... he saw - well, he didn’t see him, Roman couldn’t actually see Virgil because Roman had looked at him and smiled. The kind of smile that monsters don't get. 

It had felt as if Roman had seen something good in him and as much as that makes Virgil want to laugh, there is a certain wistfulness about the idea. To be good enough for a smile, it was something the man he had once been would have laughed about. But then that man had walked the edge of savagery, had caused the ruin of countless men and women, had obeyed the orders of harsher, crueller people. Who killed because it was all he had been trained to do, all that he knew to do. More beast than man. 

Roman would have been a joke that he would have swatted aside like a bug if he had even bothered to notice the human at all. That Virgil would never have even known what he missed. That Virgil would have carried on the cycle, would have kept losing himself to the full moon, month after month.

In the end though, it doesn’t matter what he did or didn’t see because Roman is gone, back to his life, to his world and that is a world so far removed from his own. He couldn’t enter it, even if he wants to. Virgil doesn’t want to, doesn’t want to be surrounded by that many people, that many hungry eyes and the overpowering sounds that so many lives create. A din which made him feel sick to his stomach at just the thought of it, a pain which feels heavier now he is one of that number. 

One visit and he finds himself craving contact. Contact that will never happen again.

And then - Roman comes back. Time and time again. With a picnic, with a book he thinks Virgil might like, with nothing but his smile and the sun on his face.

(this isn’t a hotel, he tells Roman.

Virgil had meant he couldn't come and go as he pleases.

He seems to take it to mean that now he is here in Virgil’s life, he doesn't have to leave.)

The funny thing is, he has never hated Roman. Not once. His default is hate. Hates the scientists for what they had done to him, not just the experiments which were little better than torture  but the decades of silence, with only his thoughts for company and that was torture. Hates how it took being rescued by another werebear before he could even put a name to what he is. Hates that his whole life has been stolen from him, always a puppet dancing to someone else's whims. 

He hates the hunters that came after. Hates them for murdering his friend. Hates them for being the first blood he sheds since taking a name that is his own.

Hates the world because nothing is ever going to change and he is stuck here alone and it is only because he has started talking to someone again that Virgil even realises how much he hates being alone all the time.

Hates because it is all he knows how to do anymore.

It isn't until Roman has been in his life for a while that Virgil looks back and realises he slipped in under the radar and there had been a lack of hate. At first, it had been fear. A cold, all encompassing fear that had wrapped itself tightly around his heart and squeezed. That changed in the end, fading to a dull ache and a variety of other emotions flooded to take its place. Confusion. Low level annoyance for sure but buzzing under all of that... something else. Something Virgil has trouble putting a word to because it is so alien to his nature. A... a...

A warmth that curled through him. And pride, pride that Roman has never shown any fear towards him. Virgil’s brave little human and some part of him knows how dangerous that is, the way in which his bear side has already laid claim to Roman. He knows the sensible thing to do is to cut off all contact now. 

Every second Virgil spends time with his human just lets the knives slide in deeper, their joined life blood pooling around them. Roman has nothing to look forward to with him but the unhappy ending because life isn't fair, it doesn’t reward the good or save the bad, he couldn't be made good just because Roman wanted it. Life was cold and cruel and more often than not saw nothing wrong in sticking fingers into open wounds, prodding, poking, stretching thin sanity and life. This thing, whatever it is, has to stop. After all just because Virgil might want something, doesn’t mean he should have it. 

(he thinks he hates Remy for - for -

For saving him

For dying for him 

For thinking he was worth saving

For leaving him here alone

For making him feel anything in the first place.)

Just once, he considers burning the cabin to the ground. It would be so easy to do and it wouldn’t be the first time Virgil has let the cleansing brutal beauty of fire to its work. A few sparks in the right places, a little time and the wooden cabin would go up in roaring flames. A pyre to what could have been until nothing was left but the ghosts of a possibility. There is nothing inside the building that he is overly attached to, nothing Virgil couldn't recreate a few miles away, build another cabin and start again. Virgil has always been pretty good at keeping his possessions light, constantly on the move - constantly running, running because he is a coward, because he can't look behind him, can't go back to that, to the ghosts of either his sins or his friend. One strike of a match to set the whole chain tumbling down. No more worry that someone else might notice Virgil living here, no more worrying that people might follow Roman, that he might lead the enemy right to his door. No more Roman -

Thoughts of burning the cabin stutter to a stop at that. The whole point of the plan was to wipe the slate clean, so he can't get him caught. It's hard to do that without cutting Roman out of his life. It will hurt him - it will hurt him too, but that is never the point - and Virgil finds he doesn't want to hurt Roman. The mere idea of something taking that smile off his features is more than either the bear or man side of him can handle. To imagine the smile wavering because of something he did... It is breaking his heart, it is breaking his heart and Virgil thought that that organ had shattered into harmless pieces long ago. 

It is disconcerting to realise the muscle hasn’t atrophied away from lack of use through all the long years and instead is as hot and as alive as anything. Even the hate Virgil has felt over the years has never felt like this, never made his chest ache in a way that the idea of hurting Roman does. It's not necessarily a good feeling, and the thoughts which pool around his mind like fresh blood are raw, born out a new and unexpected wound.

Virgil will kill to make sure that smile never wavers. He will do what he has always done. He will drown the whole world in blood is that is what it takes in order to protect Roman and his happiness. The thought is wild, a wounded animal clawing in the back of his mind just begging to be let free. It's the first time Virgil realises he will kill for Roman. Not the last. 

(he thinks he loved Remy once upon a time.)

There are times too, when Virgil thinks about really telling him some of the things he has done. In clinical, excruciating detail about bodies he has left broken in his wake. About the lives he has ruined - why Grandma, what big arms you have - and worse of all, how Virgil had enjoyed it at the time. It was all Virgil had been built for, and he had never thought to question it, had simply accepted it. Someone points, and he moves, a weapon created for one purpose. Everyone in his life has been like that, always looking for ways in which to use him. Even Remy hadn't been wholly selfless when it came to their friendship, always half an eye on what he could get out of it. 

Not that Virgil blames him for that, Remy at least was kind, offered something in return instead of just tugging harshly on the leash. And in the end, Remy gave his life to the misguided idea that Virgil is a life worth preserving.

The world is full of people just waiting to take and take. The world that Virgil knows at least is one of the scientists, experiments, hunters and Virgil has no reason to believe that this brave new world is any different. Roman should know who he is smiling at, who he is trusting his back to and how the Big Bad Wolf will hurt him worse than he can ever imagine. 

Of course, he actually never tells Roman. Virgil tries to convince himself it's because he doesn't want to be the one to wreck that innocence he wears like a cloak around his shoulders but Virgil knows it's a lie - why Grandma, what big eyes you have - and normally he has no time for lies. Roman can't keep doing this to him, smiling and looking and understanding. As though all the broken pieces in him are okay, as if he doesn't want to press Virgil to a shape of his own choosing but instead can simply let it be. 

It feels good and oh so bad at the same time, something being rubbed raw in the back of his mind, grating on a nerve. It leaves Virgil permanently on edge, as though he is constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the blood red haired to turn out to be just like everyone else. Until then, Virgil pretends he isn't waiting for his little red riding hood to pull the hood down and allows himself to maybe enjoy it. Just a little. Just while he can.

He knows it won't last. 

Because in reality, Virgil needs Roman not to hate him. More than that, he needs those eyes on him. Needs the kindness. The easy affection and belief offered is like a drug and he needs to pretend there is something more to him than the violence - why Grandma, what big teeth you have - and Virgil has to hide away that animalistic desire to kill to protect Roman, to become the monster once more. Roman cannot see, he can never see how the bear will happily drown the world in blood for him because Virgil knows he will hate it. He will hate Virgil and that will hurt him more than anything, more than he thought it was possible to hurt. Being denied Roman’s smile will break him, he knows it down to his core.

He wonders when he became so weak, or if he has been this fragile all along.

(in his dreams he is killing Roman.

Over and over, a different method each time.

And always behind him, that voice he can't shift, the scientists who held his leash for decades. 

Smooth honey, sweet poison of his past as they purr in approval.

He drives the knife in deeper. 

He’s always needed to belong to someone.)

The first time Roman touches him with purpose, he can’t help but flinch. Virgil had been in control of himself before then, with only the slightest tense of muscles whenever Roman brushed up against him in passing, an accidental contact. And he brushes up against him a lot - fingers catching his skin when Virgil hands him something, bumping into Virgil as Roman slips past, a tug on his shirt as warm fingers press against him when the human needs to get his attention. 

This time is different. 

There is an intent behind the motion that Virgil can’t quite understand. It isn’t harsh, isn’t the promise of blows and pain if he disobeys but Roman touches and in that moment - a second, an eternity - Virgil is all the way back in that small, bright, white, room. Back in a world of pain and endless tests where he never understood the rules or the purpose only that everything he did was wrong. Everything invited pain, action or inaction. Everything hurts, his body is on fire and Virgil has forgotten how to breathe. Lungs burn with the rest of him and he feels - Virgil feels everything and it is far too much.

The moment of eternity passes. 

Virgil is back in his cabin, hand carved table pressing into the small of his back. Virgil doesn’t remember physically moving, can’t recall the active thoughts that made him more than flinch but cross a whole room in a bid to escape an innocent touch. Roman watches him as though he’s given some new piece of a puzzle. As if his freak out wasn’t something to be embarrassed about and not for the first time Virgil wishes he understood what went on in that beautiful head of his. Virgil was simple. Virgil knew what he wanted, what he liked, what he didn’t like and he was rarely shy about expressing himself one way or another, although his words were sparse, as though there was only so many in him and he had to ration them out to get through the day. 

It’s better this way. Better to hold his words in reserve, to guard them and hold himself taunt. Hold himself closed off as best he can. If he lets his thoughts out, if he actually speaks any of the horrors that whirl around his mind that Virgil doesn’t believe he would stop until the well is dry. It is a frightening thought, to lose control. To let Roman see into all the ruined edges.

Roman, on the other hand, talks a lot. Without shame, without hesitation. He lets all the thoughts that pass through him escape. He shares everything he is and Virgil can only marvel at it. There is no end to his stream. No possibility of worry, of any of the doubts that plague Virgil it seems.

So many words, a hymn of sound that rose and broke in gentle waves around him but there was so much more unsaid, music in the silence between the words, a code that he can’t quite understand. Something is happening now, some conversation he can feel slipping silently between his fingers as they look at each other, the human slowly closing the gap he had unwittingly created.

Clear brown eyes stare up at him and Roman reaches out again. For a moment, Virgil thinks he sees pity in those warm eyes. The one emotion Virgil has never wanted from him and he will take any amount of hate or disdain over pity. It passes before he can decide if he is right or not, or if he is simply reading too much into things. It passes before his brain can recoil, some part of him trusting that it wasn't pity. It can't be pity, he wouldn't be that cruel. Not his Roman. 

Fingers brush against his own in silent greeting, a tender motion. Gentle but confident, a second of waiting before pressing on. It's more than a greeting now, that strange purpose is back as Roman’s fingers entwine with his own, panic threatening to overwhelm Virgil once more, everything spiralling and screaming out of control. He breathes in. Breathes out. Thinks of deep and dark woods, the endless path that winds through it. Thinks of the smell of damp earth after a storm. Thinks of the sound of Roman’s laugh.

The moment of eternity passes.

He relaxes. Just a fraction, a shift of shoulders dropping but it's enough to let the fear start to seep away, to feel the moment as it actually is over the memory of what it had once been. Its enough to reward him with a brilliant smile, unrestrained joy on Roman’s face at the single act. He is beyond happy and that, in turn, makes him feel happy, easily washing away the last fragments of fear.

His hand is warm. So perfect against the rough edges of his own, slotting smoothly into place, as if it belongs there.

(bring me the heart of Snow White, commands the Queen.

As you wish, whispers the Huntsman.

Roman is that Snow White, Red Rose, Goldilocks and all the others.

He’s the Big Bad Wolf, the Huntsman. 

But the Huntsman isn’t the villain.

If he’s not the villain, what is his role anymore?)

Roman is always so happy, so cheerful. Nothing can dampen his spirits and there are times when Virgil is envious of that. There are plenty of times when it pisses him off too, the way in which no matter what he or the world might say or do, Roman keeps on smiling. Through any bad day, through any snarled response from Virgil. When something bad happens, it only prompts Roman to offer a charming smile and a wholly impracticable suggestion to how to fix it. As though Virgil can be fixed. As if his bear skin really is just that, and there might be a prince under it all after all. 

Not that he’s told Roman about his bear skin. Not that he ever will. 

Endless smiles, as addictive as they are, also grate on his nerves at times. Nobody can be that cheerful, that positive. Life was cruel and constant, a grinding sensation that just kept demanding more and more, never happy with what it took. His - not his, never his - Roman takes it all without a blink, he smiles and doesn't seem to be affected.

Except Roman is his. And has been for a long time. Perhaps forever? From human, to his human, and Roman to his Roman. The bear has claimed him and it has simply taken Virgil this long to catch up. It is easier to accept it in abstract. To think of it as though the knowledge is just another fairy tale. The Big Bad Wolf doesn’t want to eat Little Red Riding Hood - the need which burns in the veins of this bear is not the hunger for food, but for something that still shuns a name.

Sometimes, Virgil wants to shake him and point out all the ways in which the world sucks, how this world is made up of lies and trickery. How blind they all are. Monsters of all sorts lurk in the world. Some are like him. Fairy tale beasts made flesh. Creatures of sorrow and regret and red so rich you could drown in it.

It’s the ones that are mortal which are the worse though. The ones that age, sicken and die like all the others of their kind. The ones that hold more power than they have any right too. The ones that cause endless suffering in the name of science or their morality. 

Once, he asks how Roman can possibly remain calm in the face of everything. How can he get back up time after time again? How can every set back just makes him blink and then smile? Roman manages to keep on going as though the bad news was good. And oh, Roman just smiles that smile of his, the one like bubbles of champagne brushing against your throat. It is the one that twists Virgil up in knots that he both loves and hates at the same time. Despite everything Virgil knows about the world, he finds himself wanting to believe in Roman’s version of the world. 

Despite the reality that is screaming at them both, the endless ways in which the world will chew them both up and spit out their remains - he wants to believe. 

Virgil doesn't of course. 

His very soul has been burnt raw by his life. All the body blows have had their effect and Virgil sees the world for what it is. A blade, just waiting for its chance to impale you. Once bitten, twice shy? Many times beaten and experimented on, another time wary. Virgil isn’t going to risk showing his weak underbelly to such a world once more. He ignores the fact that Roman is nothing but a weakness. Virgil has gotten pretty good at ignoring truths when it comes to his human.

Roman simply insists it easier to be happy, to not give in to negative feelings. There is no point in being sad, nothing good can come of it and so Roman simply remains happy, as though it's that easy. As though there is some switch in the world that he can just press. Boom. Happy. It can’t be that simple.  Roman isn’t done explaining and Virgil finds himself leaning forward all the more, desperate to understand this new magic. 

There is just more good in his life, he claims, and so he focuses on that, smile never faltering. Roman looks at Virgil and promises that there are things in the world that make everything else worthwhile. 

He still doesn't understand.

(he is in free fall.

He’s been in free fall since Roman held his hand.

Little pig, little pig, let me come in.

No, he's been in free fall long before that and the ground is coming up fast.

Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin.

“Ah, Dr. Logic, having fun yet?” Ms. Dragon Witch had taken the opportunity while her people were setting up the torture station to change her dress. It was just as tight and as revealing as before, with a plunging neckline that showed far too much skin for his tastes. Then again, he really wasn’t her target audience as any amount of female skin would be too much for Logan. The dress was a spotless, striking white. An odd choice perhaps, for a torture session.

Except he knew she was aiming to hurt both of them at the same time. Seeing evidence of the wounds on her dress, to have red stain the white would create an effect. Not the one she wanted of course, but Logan was not wholly insensible to people’s feelings. He knew what she would expect and he knew what he would actually do. 

“You know I’m not,” Logan replied shortly, carefully keeping her gaze on her and not Virgil. 

“Poor little Logic. Not prepared to be on this side of things are you. Well, it’s been a long time coming. You have been getting far too... above yourself. Thinking yourself better than you are. And then to fail me in such a crucial moment. I should kill you for that. Perhaps I still will.” She tilted her head to the side, ruby red lips curling into some parody of a smile. 

“Or maybe I will just kill him.”

“I did not deliberately sabotage you, I am loyal to you and you alone Ms. Dragon Witch. That being said, I understand the need for a punishment for my sub-par work, but it was my work. Why punish him?” 

Logan didn’t understand her reasons. If there was something he hated above all else, it was not understanding something. He was the one - in her twisted mindset at least - to have failed. Virgil wasn’t even a close friend. He was merely his assistant. They had been brought together by chance, by her. If she hadn’t kidnapped Virgil from his home then they would never have met, would never have worked together. 

He shouldn't care what happened to Virgil. But his brain was far too useful to be wasted in such a pointless fashion. He was too... well, Logan couldn’t think of the word exactly. He couldn’t describe the many uses that Virgil had or the way in which he had improved every day since they had started to achieve a working relationship. 

That was another thing which annoyed Logan. This way in which Virgil refused easy categorisation, how he skipped and danced out of every mental box that Logan attempted to place him in. Virgil wasn’t like the other prisoners. He wasn’t like any of the past assistants. He wasn’t even like any of the heroes that he had ever seen from a distance. Then again, Virgil was the first hero he had actually met, so maybe they were all like that?

Not that Virgil would have called himself a hero. He was very particular about that. That was a title he said that only a few could bear and he wasn’t one of them. His idiot brother was a hero, not Virgil. Logan always knew better than to question him about the hero called Prince. Their relationship - such as it was - was built on unspoken agreements. Logan not trying to interrogate him about his brother was one of those. 

Logan couldn’t help but be curious. Not because he wanted to run and tell Ms Dragon Witch anything Virgil might confess - although he would have reported it and that was another reason why he didn’t press him on the matter. If he didn’t know, he couldn’t make that choice, be faced with that conflict of loyalties. No, he wanted to know about the Prince because he wanted to understand. How could anyone like Virgil be related to that... over the top and brash hero? Prince gave him a headache every time he was in the same area as him. 

Still, he didn’t ask. There were some lines that were not meant to be crossed and that was one of them.

“Why do you care what I do to him?” Dragon Witch asked, her voice sickly sweet. She hadn’t answered his question, he noticed. It was an infuriating habit of hers at the best of times, the way in which she would answer questions with another question of her own.

“He is useful,” Logan responded. Annoying habit or not, at least it had given him a window to try and plead his case. There could still be a chance of getting her to realise what a mistake she was making. “You captured him for his use as bait and a trophy. Damaged, his value diminishes.” 

With a long, slow, blink, Ms. Dragon Witch stared at him, her deep red nails tapping an even rhythm against her side. 

“Oh sweetheart,” Ms. Dragon Witch purred, amusement threading through every drawn out word. “So innocent. You think this is the first time I... damaged him, as you put it? What do you think happens every time I summon him for a visit? We have tea and crumpets, like polite little Englishmen and talk about the weather?”

“That is different,” Logan protested and how strange that it was another confirmation of a pet theory. Yet again, it was a confirmation that he didn’t actually want to know. Where was his belief in the truth? Logan had always held fast to the notion that there was nothing more beautiful and perfect than the truth, in all its raw and bleeding glory. It was far better to wrap yourself in facts, no matter how unpleasant than to hide yourself in a web of lies.

Yet the facts brought him little comfort in this case. 

She bent down, movement showing off yet more cleavage. It was almost embarrassing how much was on show now. If Logan didn’t know better, he would have thought she was trying to show off to him, simply for the sake of it. But that would be foolish. She knew his inclinations, she knew his preferences. It was not something you chose or could turn off with a single thought. Or a flash of skin. Ms. Dragon Witch leaned closer, his words managing to spark some interest within her. Better him than Virgil.

Wait.

Where had that thought come from? Logan normally valued himself correctly. Highly. He was extremely useful in more ways than one. He would set himself above most people, his assistant included. So why did that thought pass through his mind? Why did he seek to distract her from her murderous urges and try and engage her in conversation? Why did he want to stop her from hurting Virgil so badly? 

Almost as though reading his thoughts, she spoke again, her words tugging at all those deep and worrisome thoughts and confusion.   

“Oh? Different because... you don’t have to watch? Or because it isn’t your fault so you can ease that thing you pretend is a heart? I thought you didn’t have one of those?” 

“Of course I possess one. Just not in the manner in which you are implying,” Logan replied, words clipped and cold. He had no time for such a romantic use of an organ. The heart sent blood around the body and was an incredibly important thing for that alone. There was no need to complicate matters further by giving it the near deity level of importance that it had been raised to over the centuries. It was just a heart. Just another function within the body. 

Yet people acted as though it was something so much more. As if it ruled people’s thought process and as if it could force people to act against their previously defined character. He disliked such irrationality. Just as Logan disliked this conversation. Even as he kept it going.

Was this one of those so called heart moments? Had he finally succumbed to the madness of the human condition? Logan really hoped not. 

“That is punishment for what he has done. He chose to stand against you, which was wrong. This... this is not logical. There is no reason.”

“Just admit it Dr. Logic. You care about my little pet. You don’t want to see him hurt because of your actions. I wager you don’t want to see him hurt at all. I should have made you watch before now. How amusing to see you crumble.”

“I don’t want you to waste a resource we could use!” 

“Ah denial.” Ms. Dragon Witch shook her head in mock disappointment, the motion setting Logan’s teeth on edge. She sighed heavily, still playing this newest role with obvious relish. “Such an... illogical feeling, is it not?” 

“I am not in denial,” Logan retorted and he was rapidly losing patience with this whole thing. Why couldn’t she be as predictable and as useful as any of his experiments? If he had applied the correct pressure, then the expected response would occur. Humans were not nearly as neat as all of that. Much to his annoyance. By any reasonable measure, his words should have proved that Virgil was more useful intact and yet any argument he made only seemed to make her that much more determined. It was as though his words were having the opposite intended effect.

“It is you who are too dimwitted to properly appreciate the importance of my words. The logic of them.”

Anger was an emotion. Which meant that it wasn’t something that Logan regularly - if ever - experienced. If he did however, he would have to admit that he was feeling angry right now. And that the anger had made him hasty. Made him say some things that while true, were not exactly the most intelligent thing to say. Because while Logan did not suffer from emotions, Ms Dragon Witch did. Anger among them.

Her expression shifted into something truly murderous. There wasn’t even a chance to know that he had delivered the correct stimulus at last in order to get the response he expected. Anger was too easy an emotion to pull from her. Anger only served to make his job harder and so it was hardly the reaction he actually desired.

The flames rose higher for a moment, a crackling, heated warning for Logan to behave. As much as he wished to spare Virgil pain, he wasn’t going to place himself in that spot instead. He wasn’t a fool, no matter what she might think. 

Mouth snapped shut, Logan simply glaring back. He might be unwilling to verbally bait her any further but that didn’t mean he agreed with her. Or that he was fully giving in. Logan just wasn’t going to let himself get burnt by the fire which had thankfully returned to its previous levels. She stood on the other side of the flames, completely unaffected by the heat. Logan did his best to appear unaffected in turn, ignoring the sweat dripping down his face. He wasn’t about to show weakness. 

The angry snarl dropped away, Ms. Dragon Witch blinking a couple of times, her gaze angled slightly over Logan’s head and towards one of her minions.  

“You were always one for learning, were you not?” 

“I am,” Logan replied, feeling something akin to whiplash in the way she shifted so effortlessly away from rage to a question. Eyes flickered down to meet his gaze, rich lips curling back into that infuriating smile.  

“Let us see what you learn from this then, Dr. Logic.” 

With a soft hum, she turned away from him. It was the sort of noise that Logan would associate with being able to start an enjoyable activity. It was, he realised with a sickening drop of his stomach, the sound she must make whenever she got to play her games. Ms. Dragon Witch stepped to the side, giving him a clear view of his lab assistant in the chair opposite. As he had suspected - feared - the purple haired young man was awake. Which meant Logan was out of time.

Which meant he had failed. 

“Sleepy head awakes at last. Hello, Virgil.”

“Karen,” Virgil sneered, his eyes flashing with a near murderous rage. He didn’t appear to care that he was in her room, trapped. That... that wasn’t her name. Logan knew that. More to the point, Virgil knew it wasn’t her name. Why would he deliberately use an incorrect name? Why would he try and annoy her? From the way her fingers curled into brief talons, it was clear he had succeeded. 

“Behave darling. Different game this time. You are going to help me,” she instructed, slowly walking towards him. Hips swayed dramatically as she did, something too pronounced to be anything but deliberate. Always putting on a show. Virgil gave a snort, the sound effortlessly conjuring up exactly how he felt about that idea. 

“Fat chance.”

“Oh, you won’t have a choice darling one.” Ms. Dragon Witch was behind him now, long nails tracing along his shoulder and dancing up his neck. Logan caught the tiny flinch that ran through Virgil’s body before he could suppress it. The way his breath hitched in his throat for just a fraction of a second. Try as he might to limit his physical responses, it was clear that Virgil was scared of her.

Which made his previous bravado all the more bewildering. 

If you were scared of someone, why would you attempt to anger them? 

“What did you do to Dr. Logic’s project? I know you did something my pet...” She whispered the words, dipping a little so her long hair brushed against him.

“What... what are you talking about?” Virgil asked cautiously. 

Logan’s eyes widened a little as he stared at Virgil. Nobody else seemed to have noticed the hint of uncertainty in the other’s words or the way he stiffened slightly. He had learnt a lot about people’s tells over the years. It helped him in more ways than one. Virgil had been a tough nut to crack. He still wasn’t sure if he had managed to learn it all. As much as it pained Logan to think, he was fairly confident that if Virgil tried to lie directly to his face, he would get away with it. 

True, he had already given himself away with his fear but this was something else. Something new. Something that a part of Logan was already filing away in the back of his mind in case he needed to compare that tone against any other Virgil might make. 

One thing was for sure though. Virgil had just lied to her.

Which meant - what exactly?

That he had done something? Had it been his actions that had caused his machine to malfunction and cause all this trouble? 

No, Logan had checked all the figures and readouts himself as soon as the invention had malfunctioned. He had gone over all his notes, obsessively checking each line of code. He knew exactly where the project had gone wrong and why. Logan knew it had been an error on his part. An honest error, in not being able to match the different temperatures in which the liquids change to gases. That and that alone had been the cause of the failure. And it had been Logan’s miscalculation.

It made him a little sick to his stomach, each time he thought that, but there was no getting around that awkward truth. It had been Logan who had messed up.

So why was Virgil lying about it now?

It was such a small slip up, something Logan doubted Ms. Dragon Witch would pick up on. Which meant his reaction wasn’t for her. It probably wasn’t for him either, and that pointed towards it being an honest, accidental reaction. In turn, that pointed to him not trying to deflect from causing damage. It was something else he was guilty of. So what had Virgil done? 

What was going on? 

“I’m talking about the new game pet. You’re going to help me teach Dr. Logic a lesson... unfortunately for you, I’m going to make you scream to do so. Perhaps then his mind will be more focused in the days ahead.” 

It was as though Virgil hadn't even noticed Logan was there until that moment, eyes shifting from Ms. Dragon Witch to stare at him. For a moment, the gaze was wide and unguarded. In that moment, Logan could see all the fear and worry reflected in his eyes. All the anxiety and the near crushing knowledge of how much this was going to hurt. Then, the shutters came down, Virgil closing himself off as best he could.

“Take his jacket off. No sense in wasting time damaging thick cloth when I could be ripping skin apart.” 

The minions jumped to attention, all scurrying to carry out her bidding. No doubt fearful of what might happen to them if they displeased her. In a way, this was a brilliant choice on her part. At a stroke she would prove that nobody was above punishment. That nobody was too important. She would be able to show them what happens if they were to forfeit her favour and enjoy her herself in the process.

Logan somehow doubted she had thought that far ahead. That wasn't her style. Ms. Dragon Witch's style was just that - flashy, loud, impressive. But ultimately lacking any sort of substance. His boss was acting on her emotions and little else. So caught up in the moment that she failed to see the long term advantages of her actions. Sooner or later, that would cost her dearly. Logan had always known that - right now however, he found himself hoping that it would be sooner. The sooner the better. 

Virgil's struggles had been pointless, the guards forcing his wrists back down against the arms of the chair. Thick metal snapped into place, curling around him and pinning him down. Logan had designed that chair. There was no getting out of it if you were the one in it. Not even Virgil would be able to. From the look on Virgil's face, he knew it too. It didn't stop the purple haired man from continuing to fight against them.

How many times had she put him in that chair? How many of Logan's inventions had been used to hurt one of the very few people that he would class as interesting and near his own level? Logan wasn't naive. He was fully aware that most - if not all - of what he designed was used for nefarious purposes. He was even aware that many of them were used to create pain. It had never been something Logan had spent much time thinking about. It was just a side effect of achieving his goals. As Dr. Logic he had weighed up the pros and cons. It had been a price worth paying.

Somehow it didn't give him the same kind of comfort when faced with the reality of the moment.

While he was distracted, Ms. Dragon Witch had retrieved a whip from the collection on the table and returned to stand behind the cuffed Virgil. Logan really didn’t like either the object or the position. That strange knot of something was growing larger in his stomach.

“Ready pet?”