#candy writes

It’s silent on the ship. So vast and empty. You’re dressed in nothing but a soft towel wrapped around your silhouette, tucked in just under your arms. You toss a handful of dried flowers onto the surface of the water before pouring a drizzle of aromatic soap from a glass vial into the still flowing faucet. 

An immediate froth of suds forms and propels a cloud of freshness upwards with the steam. It’s a scent within the same classification as mint, or maybe pine from your world. It’s not as sweet as the likes of rosemary or even licorice root, but it’s nowhere near as bitter as hemlock with its earthy vegetation. It lies in an unnamable and foreign classification, reviving to your senses. You’re grateful he managed to find an aromatic blend that didn’t smell like it would singe your eyebrows off. He had to be careful in his selection, making certain to avoid herbs that could prove toxic to humans.

You step into the tub after turning the faucet off, allowing your legs to adjust to the temperature before slowly easing yourself to sitting. The warmth climbs up your form, acclimating to the welcoming cradle of the basin. You’re able to finally breathe your stress away. It’s sometimes hard to be away from home in a strange land with no one to even know your name, let alone your precarious origins. When everything out here is fighting for a chance to kill you at all times, quiet moments like this are deeply cherished.

You sink further past the surface until the water reaches the small portion of your face between your upper lip and nose. The nape of your neck begins to soak in nearby suds as moisture climbs up your scalp. While exhaling deeply again, you push the swirling bubbles away from your face with the subtle current when a voice from across the room brings you to open your eyes.

“Didn’t take long for you to make yourself at home.” Conquest announces while sporting an array of deep-tissue wounds from head to toe, his uniform half shredded off. “You look like a little bird preening her feathers.

“You told me to help myself.” You try to hide the fact he startled you, but the audible splash of movement was clearly too hard to hide. “So I did. Besides, don’t you always call me kitten?”

“I remember.” Conquest is smiling his crooked smile at you and you watch his line of sight break away from your eyes, shifting lower and lower until he starts imagining what lies beyond the suds. “And I do.”

“You look like you need this more than me though.” You mention, acknowledging his filthy appearance. From shoulder to shoulder, he spans nearly the full breadth of the door frame. The sheer broadness of his stature raises your heartrate, surprising you every time you witness him for yourself.

“I can always hose myself down with the pressure washer in the bay.” He jokes, but you can tell he’s serious. He dares not to ruin something so pure.

“Don’t be stupid.” You won’t take no for an answer, scooting forward as if to make room for him. “Get in here.”

Conquest examines himself, finding that he is a bit worse for wear than he thought. His cuts, ruptures and lacerations are still leaking while alien blood stains what’s left of his uniform. Hues of green and blue flow like watercolors into Conquest’s red. “You sure?”

You don’t respond, instead choosing to give him a look he knows well. He nods in reciprocation, regarding your word as final. With a slow seal of his gaze, he chuckles under his breath before regaining eye contact. He holds it as he floats into the room, leaving footprints after settling himself back on the floor. He stares at you seductively as he peels the uniform from the one shoulder it’s still adhered, letting it drop to his feet.

Thankfully a good amount of the grime is left behind when he sheds the layer, and your eyes are soon drawn to his massive package now revealed. As he approaches, you shimmy forward, nearly putting your knees to your chest so that he can fit. By the way he towers over you, it is clear this is going to be a tight squeeze. 

He awkwardly lifts his leg over the side of the tub and steps in. His second leg follows and the level rises significantly. He steadies himself with both hands on the edge at either side of you, proceeding to slide in. Water starts spilling as it splashes over the edge. There go your pretty flowers, now scattered to the surrounding floor. The scent of death lingers on him, melded with the fragrant bath suds. His brows are knit together as it pains him to spoil your good time, but the grin on your face assures him that there’s no other place you’d want him to be.

There’s no hiding the presence of his package at your back. You can feel it pressed up against your spine as he gathers you into his clutches. You lean into him, using his spanning abdomen and chest as a comfortable bed of sorts as he encompasses you fully. With a bite of your lip, you rest your cheek on his forearm, getting a little bit of his blood on your face. “You’re hurt.”

“A papercut.” His rumbling voice is felt within your own torso, as if that sensation is stemming from within your own ribcage. “All healed in a day’s time.”

“I should see the other guys, right?” This is a line you both have shared often as his gory homecomings happen on a regular basis. You cup some water in your palm and splash it on his skin to cleanse it.

“Isn’t that how the saying goes?” He answers your question with one of his own while dragging his mustache up the length of your neck, ticking you with his stray hairs, hot breath flowing about your face.

“You only know that saying because of me.” You add, taking credit for his adoption of your lingo.

“It’s a good one.” He kisses your cheek first before nibbling on your earlobe to hear you sweetly whine for him. “That’s something we don’t have on Viltrum.”

“What’s that?” You ask, sensing the answer to this query but wanting to hear him say it.

“Jokes.” He shrugs. “Humor.”

“Your people laugh, don’t they?” You turn your head to look him in the eye. “Everyone laughs.”

“That very well may be true, but it’s what we laugh at that doesn’t align.” His clarification is made clear when your eyes become fixed on the murky water, now clouded with blood and silt.

“Oh.” You are reminded of the brutality of his race and why he is feared, right down to the kind of person he is in front of others when you’re with him. “That’s right.”

Conquest senses you sort of shut down, slumping forward in his arms. You notice he treats you differently when you are in public. He’s a bit colder. His soft side concealed. He cannot risk giving anyone ammunition against you, deciding the best way to overcome that is to be so devoutly and aggressively defensive of you that no one dares to test him.

“I scare you at times.” Conquest beats you to the punch he thinks you’re preparing. “You can say it.”

“It’s true, you’re scary.” You agree flatly. “But I am not scared of you.”

“How does that work?” Conquest is unable to see the correlation, requiring an explanation.

“Your strength. Your anger. The way people cower when they hear you speak.” You begin listing things, feeling Conquest’s posture fail him with every mention. “That is, in itself, objectively scary. But that’s your intent, isn’t it? To frighten others.”

“Mmm…” He listens, hearing all the things he tells himself but finding they sound differently coming from your mouth.

“I know you never have the intent to frighten me, though.” You enlighten him, making the distinction clear for even him to see.  “I can tell the difference.”

“How does it make you feel when I, for instance…” He pauses, taking the time to properly gather his thoughts “Kill in the name of protecting what’s mine.”

“Oh, you mean like when you punched the head off the bartender that tried to slip drugs into my cocktail last week?”

“Yeah.” Conquest grins, prideful for the move. “That.”

“I think it’s pretty hot.” You swiftly turn around to straddle his waist, rubbing yourself against him. His gargantuan hands settle at your hips and the breadth of his palm could nearly serve as a full-fledged belt.

He’s stiff as can be. You’re as wet as the day is long. He can feel the slick variation in the presence of your slippery juices and the surrounding water. Conquest ruts upward and his cock collides with your swollen clit, shifting it with much pressure. A jolt of sensation travels through you like an electric zap. You want more, feeding into the friction by continuously grinding against his exposed shaft.

“Is that right?” Conquest asks in a quieter tone, just above a whisper. There’s a slight rasp in his typical speaking voice that grows thicker when he talks so softly. It sends tingles down your spine as he anchors your hips to him, pushing you down harder on his cock. He still has not breached inside yet, enjoying this time he’s sliding you back and forth. 

You moan and whimper, all weight of responsibility removed as you’re able to just sit there and let him shift you. You surrender to his hold as he flexes his cock. You feel it pulsate between your thighs so you arch your back into it, tucking your face beneath his chin to kiss the stubble on his Adam’s apple all the way up to his jawline.

He lifts his mechanical limb, some suds clinging to the plates of metal as it shines. The blots of bubbles drip from his arm into your hair as he cups your face, lifting your chin so he can press his mouth to yours. His wiry mustache pokes your upper lip upon the initial touch, and you revel in the sharpness; like a thorn on a rose. His mouth is scarred and the taste of blood lingers on his tongue when it slips past your teeth.

He breaks the kiss first, pulling away to watch as you lick your lips. Conquest sees a smear of red making it look like lipstick and his expression takes on an apologetic appearance as he swipes his thumb against your mouth to try and collect it. Though instead, you catch him unexpectedly by opening your chops to suck on the digit, biting it fiercely. His jagged teeth flash at you and he resembles a shark with that pointed maw of his, bearing down on his own lip. He shoots a coy sneer at you, playful while knowing better than to second guess your pursuits.

You hold onto his hand while sucking his thumb, dragging the digit in and out of your mouth like sucking his cock. Your teeth rake harshly against it as you pull it out with a loud pop, savoring the powerful notes of iron. “Yeah, that’s right.”

He becomes lost in thought while admiring and examining you. After a few moments, you feel his eyes stray and descend along with the swift disappearance of his smile. You begin to wonder what’s going on in that head of his, cupping it to trace the tail end of his scar that rests at the apple of his cheek. You gaze into the eye with the fogged out iris, then back to his black and strained pupil. “What is it?”

“This.” His answer is simple but it holds immeasurable weight.

“The tub?” You play around, meeting his declaration with a rhetorical suggestion.

“No.” He chuckles dryly. “Any old trough could serve us just as well.”

“What makes this unique then?”

He picks off a couple waterlogged petals from your shoulder and drops them into the bath. “You.”

You bashfully grin at him, able to decipher that he’s going to say more. He’s left his mouth ajar like he’s thinking of what to mention next, but he doesn’t let the words leave. He seems distracted so you grind against him to get his attention. With an acquiescing groan, his eyes land back on you.

“Where’d you just go?” You ask, wanting to know where his thoughts have wandered.

Mental images flash through his perspective. With you as close as you are, they flicker back to his vanquished enemies. Your proximity reminds Conquest of how he would hold them close before breaking their necks, impaling their torso, or the taste of blood in his mouth after he’s just sprayed himself with viscera. He’s not defeated by his memories from mere moments ago, let alone through the many millennia he’s suffered this routine. He is able to decipher the contrast between then and the present. Contrarily, his heart and mind cannot fathom how he can find normalcy in this devilish dichotomy of being soft and gentle with you here and yet mercilessly brutal out there. “Nowhere important.”

“I can’t believe it either.” You know what is going through his mind, opting to carry the weight for him. 

“I have lived for centuries.” He starts with a scoff. “It isn’t until now that I am finally  starting to understand why you earthlings are able to make the most of your inconceivably short lives.”

“Oh yeah?” You pry, wanting to know his perspective on this touching secret. “And how do you figure that?”

“There’s no time to lose. Not a second.” Conquest shakes his head from side to side, defeated in coming up with loopholes or deviations in this harsh truth. “You choose to fill it with laughter and joy, meaningless commodities in my culture.”

“Not just that.” You trace his scar again, fluttering your eyelids closed to kiss his lips before reopening your eyes. “We do it for love.”

“Love.” He repeats the word as if he never thought he would recite it himself. “I wish that was all it took.”

“But it is.” You reason astutely. “The lie that hate could ever outweigh it is as old as time.”

“I don’t think there’s any hope in getting my people to come to terms with their whole identity being a lie.” He finds humor in the darkness, smirking with a shrug of his wide shoulders.

“What about you?” You ask, wanting his perspective now.

“Hm?” He’s unsure what you’re getting at.

“Do you believe love is all it takes?” 

He pauses for a couple seconds and softens. You see his pupil grow in size with a subtle glisten appearing  at his water line before his eyes meet yours. “I do now.” 

Neither of you can wait any longer. As you wrap your arms around his neck, he lifts you up by the hips and seats you directly on his cock. The heat of the bath is no match for your scorching entrance and he groans loudly at that first thrust. He’s nowhere close to being all the way in yet as his head is barely pushed past your internal threshold. You cry out loudly into his ear, already so full and wanting more.

He thrusts upwards and moves you down at the same time. Thinking this is the perfect opportunity, you begin to bite his neck, breathing heavily while sucking on the sweet spot where his jawline meets his jugular. With each thrust, you arch into it again. As a result, your clit drags against his pubic wreath and his bushy hair adds delicious friction.

Feeling confident you want to show him what you’re made of, you use the force of your weight to begin thrusting down onto him, almost slamming against his pelvis though painfully lagged down by the bath. Wave after wave sloshes out, but neither of you care anymore. 

In dire need of air, you pull back to look Conquest in the face as you fuck him. You support yourself with both palms to his chest, staring into his open mouth to watch his tongue flex and curl as he grunts. You want to be bitten by those teeth. Licked by that tongue. But first…

You take his mechanical fist from where it lies on your hip and move it to your neck whispering, “Choke me.”

Conquest promptly clamps that hand around your throat. He affords you enough ability to still breathe through being squeezed. He adjusts his hold with intermittent tightness so he can hear you gasp and go silent. You’re getting pinched by the plates moving against each other, like little fires igniting on your skin. His expressions tell all, that no matter how often this happens, you’re star struck by his handsomeness and that fierce soul of his. Not to mention the sheer fact he chose you.

He yanks you towards him by the throat, his battered and beaten face barely an inch in front of yours. He studies your expressions as he impales you on his cock. The breath of your exasperation falls on his skin and he inhales it like smoke before being overcome with obsession for you and driving his tongue into your open mouth. It swirls around sloppily and savagely parts from you with a rough kiss, but before he could recede completely, you chomp on his lip. He retracts it through the pain, allowing you to clench your jaws harder as it snaps back into his face.

Conquest releases your neck but doesn’t fully let go, speaking words into your mouth for you to swallow up. “Watch out. This kitten bites.”

“I bet you bite harder.” You challenge, sultry with your words.

“I’m willing to test it.” He accepts your proposal, moving his hand up to hold your head and expose your neck. He hums to himself as he admires your heartbeat thrumming beneath the surface of your skin. With a widening of his mouth, you suddenly are made aware of every distinct tooth, its angle and sharpness as each one has you in its vice. He clenches his jaw, then releases it but only slightly, repetitively meeting your flesh with the sting of his initial bite, reviving all the nerves he’s set aflame. He could easily chew your throat right out of your neck, esophagus and all, yet he treats you with the perfect measure of force and restraint, never pushing you into the danger zone.

As his rakes and nibbles move down, he starts to explore your chest, testing the waters by switching his attention to your nipples. He moves his head between both breasts as he attempts to sample both at the same time, realizing the attempts are futile. The solution he comes up with is to cup both from the bottom and smoosh them to his face.

“Hnnnngh…” You vocalize when the cool wind hits the saliva he’s slathered all over you. When he pulls away, you get a wave of chills. Your nipples stiffen even more, and it becomes difficult to disguise your goosebumps. “Don’t stop… It’s cold.”

“We can’t be having that, can’t we?” Conquest’s grin spreads across his face as he smiles at you. You’re so precious to him. He finds honor in providing you with comfort, especially knowing he’s lacked so much in his lifetime.

While it’s also about time to change location, he bestows you with a parting bite. However, with his cock still driven into you and his mouth still latched to a breast, he levitates out of the tub. A surge of bath water splatters to the floor with the disruption as he gives you a few thrusts in midair. You partly feel like you’re levitating while also are made astutely aware of just how exactly he’s holding you up.

Your eyes scan your surroundings as they move past you with Conquest still lazily rutting as you emit a bemused giggle or two. He flies you into the next room where you both soak the nearest bed. He lets go of his hold on your breasts with his mouth to rest you on the warm sheets atop the plush mattress. He sets you down gently on your back so that he may climb over you, casting his shadow with the dimmed overhead light. There is still some spittle present on his lip from his exploration of your body just now and he can see that you want to taste it. “I know just what you need.”

“I need you.” You pull his face closer by grabbing his head in your hands. As he dips lower to fulfill your wish with zealous kisses, he is slamming into your pussy until his veiny length has fully vanished into you. 

Your legs are suspended in the air and while Conquest is still tastefully crushing you with his weight, he takes both by the back of the knees and dexterously folds you in half, unexpectedly pushing all air out of your lungs. You exclaim with every thrust, high-pitched and continuous despite not being able to take in a proper lungful. “Oh! Fuck! Yes! Harder!”

Conquest straightens his posture and watches his girth get swallowed up by your entrance. He rears back to completely exit you before slamming at full force. You are able to feel every inch as it drags against your walls and the flex of his cock when it involuntarily twitches before he does it again. You go from stark empty to an unfathomable wholeness over and over and over. Before long, it appears that you are getting cock dumb, unsure if you can hold out for any longer before exploding, but he’s not through yet.

“You know that’s my favorite part.” He tosses your right leg to the side and helps adjust you to turning along with it. While sitting on his knees, he’s holding your left leg and hugging it to his torso. This different position makes you feel his cock from a new angle, hitting parts you didn’t feel before. The elating sensations cause you to grab fistfuls of bedding, burying your face into the covers absentmindedly. Your muffled screams are interrupted when you feel his flesh hand scale your scalp to get a grip on your hair so that he can yanks you upward and listen to you scream. “All the pretty noises you make.”

You begin to fully embrace your exclamations, no longer holding back or restraining yourself. You are able to relax a bit on your side as he takes the globe of your ass, jostling, jiggling and slapping it with his mechanical hand to watch the fiery welts spread across your cheeks. It stings like hell, burning like you’re being hit with a paddle, but he does it again, then a third time before upping the ante.

He moves you with ease as you weigh nothing in his arms. He does not wait for your brain to catch up to his actions. Instead, he puts you exactly where he wants you by knocking your other leg over so that he can take you up by the hips and prop you on your knees. You’re on your stomach now with spread legs again. He grabs himself by the base of his cock, tapping your clit by using the head as a wand to make you come on it. A few methodical swipes on your blushing bulb were all it took and you’re gushing more slick; more than enough lubricant to finish things off. “That’s it. Nice and juicy.”

He pushes himself inside and pauses to watch you take it when you whine. Your tightness clenches around him as he goes deeper. Conquest keeps one hand tangled in your hair with your head turned to the side and shoved into the sheets. He uses the mattress’ natural bounce to fuck you to completion. He is obsessed with the way this feels. After wanting to spread you wider, he carefully scoots your knees more apart until you’re practically performing the splits on his cock.

Conquest loves your enthusiasm. He’s overwhelmed by it, falling forward with a free hand keeping him upright as it rests beside your head. His pace increases and he’s thrusting with more force. To prepare for his end, you arch as far as you can, feeling scorpioned with your ass practically lapsed over tea kettle. “Does my… unf…kitten like that?”

You cannot enunciate, reduced to letting out a series of ‘uh-huhs’ in hopes that suffices as a response. It all gets caught in your throat when you feel his tongue along your spine before some encouraging bites bloom on your shoulder. He does not remove his mouth, holding himself there with a hand still tangled in your hair. His stature is growing sloppy and faltering. He grunts as he bites harder and the pain of his maw enhances the bliss inside.

His cock is punching you just right. Conquest is expressive and loud in your ear. Your walls constrict around him, pushing him over the edge. He’s truly made a mess of you and it’s about to get worse. “Ughhh….”

“Blazing heat spills out of you as he keeps thrusting. Just as the remnants of the bath seep into the sheets, you allow his release to soak the bed beneath you. What’s another dampened surface across the rest? You both are riding the high long after the fact to the point both of you still feel like you’re coming. It is a dazzling relief, and you almost wish it would never end. All friction is lost as he is slip-sliding with no resistance whatsoever, giving you a few more pumps for good measure before pulling out. It’s like a cork was just unplugged as his come streams out of your gaping hole and down your thighs. You’re bashful, hiding your face in covers again while still on your knees with legs spread, afraid to look. “It’s getting everywhere, isn’t it?”

“Exactly where it should be.” He jokes, laying himself across your back to kiss your temple. Conquest has let go of his hold on your hair so that he may sit up, allowing you to slump into a puddle on the bed with the rest of the dampness. He can tell you’re tired by the way you collapse and roll over, joining you by lying next to your spot to catch his breath while staring up at the ceiling. “I wish it could be like this all the time. I miss you so terribly when I am gone.”

“Why can’t it?” You ask, ears perked at his confession.

“You know why.” He answers rhetorically, slight disappointment in his tone.

You rest in silence when the elephant in the room finally is finally present and you think up something to say on the spot. “Do you think one day we could make that happen?”

“Maybe not now, but in the future, I will make it so.” Conquest breaks his gaze from the ceiling and sets his sights on you, communicating this covenant by pushing a tuft of hair behind your ear. “I promise.”

If he says it, then it will be. You have no requirement of anything more. You know he means true. To set this promise in stone, you climb on top of him this time, and to his surprise, do everything over again with no care for the mess.

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

Boba would hate to admit to himself that he’s actually feeling the pangs of anxiety strike his heart. He and Vader haven’t spoken since their last engagement concerning the mishap with one Han Solo. He’s been contacted by the Dark Lord in regards to a specific job with the promise to be paid well.

As he waits for him to arrive, he notices the grit and grime of his last venture encrusted to his armor. Any common plebe would be rushing to the ‘fresher to make themselves presentable, but Boba’s identity lies in equal parts this deadly carapace as well as the blood that stains it.

However, it is taking a while for Vader to appear. There’s fashionably late, then there’s borderline impolite, not that Boba would hold him to such standards. For a bit, he considers the possibility that he’s been stood up, switching the holo-projector off to sit in silent darkness. It is in these still moments that a chirp can be heard at the entrance.

Boba taps a button on the panel of his bracer and the blast door slides open. He takes no action to greet his guest, keeping himself seated atop his shrouded throne. Vader steps in, tall and authoritative. His very presence is as alluring as it is intimidating. “Didn’t think you were going to show your mask in these parts.”

“I will admit, this is a rather sad hole in the wall you’ve summoned me to.” Vader’s boots hit the dusty flooring, hollow and resounding as he soon begins to circle around Boba.

“It’s secluded. Private.” Boba’s head turns to follow Vader’s gait. “Dark.”

Boba challenges him, making Vader think he was going to be the one calling the shots, but he is in the bounty hunter’s domain now. Vader’s path takes him through a tight coil as if he were circling a pipe with Boba as the drain. Boba stops him with a gloved hand just below his life support control panel, lifting his once relaxed arm from his chair to boldly make the initial contact. Vader humors Boba’s touch, suppressing the desire to barrel right through his arm at this impasse. “I take it you don’t care to talk contracts?”

“Sure, we can talk.” Boba pushes into him harder, his spread-out palm spanning over Vader’s mechanized stomach just above his waistline. He stands, the steel of his boots tapping together in a ringing chime with each advancement, backing Vader into the closest wall. “After.”

Vader tests his strength against Boba’s weakness in the way he’s shamelessly throwing himself at him, so he tastefully reminds this licensed killer of his station.

Vader collects the force around their bodies, concentrating it into a barrier between the two. Boba fights with the resistance, realizing he is being kept at bay. The visor secured to Boba’s helmet tilts on its axis as he turns his head, puzzled by Vader’s resistance. His labored breathing echoes through his modulator, a robotic inflection coating his every vowel and consonant. Vader spots a salacious flex of Boba’s neck muscles when his chest rises during this struggle, clearly seen beneath his layers of textile. Their illusive coverings hold a mystery that neither of them care to shatter, contrarily anchored by the need to be known and understood. “This is hardly equitable.”

“Equitable?” Boba strains his speech as Vader still has his phantom grip over him tightly. “I- argh… didn’t think you knew the meaning of the word.”

“I demand to see you.” Vader thinks of a way to even the playing field, ushering towards his own desires. “How long must you make me wait?”

“You’ve already seen me.” Boba was hoping to jump right into this, but Vader is requesting to take things slow.

“I might contend the same, however, we’d be here all night.” Vader quips back, rendering what Boba had just clarified redundant.

“As if you weren’t planning to do that from the start.” Boba calls Vader’s bluff and he curls his fingers inward a hair more to retaliate. The powerful restrictions holding Boba in place compress him deliciously. Where many would be unable to handle this treatment, Boba is exactly where he wants to be. “You don’t have to threaten me with a good time.”

“If it’s threats you want, threats I will make.” Vader’s open hand curls once again in warning. “Show yourself to me, lest you feel what happens when I close my fist.”

“You… say that like… it’s a bad thing.” Boba is taxed by the tension, unable to fill his lungs completely. His shallow breaths make him pant like an impudent hound and Vader finds his noises delectable. Boba is suspended inches above the ground, the tips of his boot soles barely graze the floor as he feels himself getting pushed a little over an arm’s length away.

The illusionary grip Vader has on him softens and Boba is afforded the ability to shed his first layer consisting of an ergonomic shirt with his upper armor secured right to the stitches. He carefully pulls it over his head, quickly replacing the helmet over his face while letting his pauldrons and plates fall where they lie in loud clangs to the floor. Next is his utility belt with which he teases Vader, acting like he can’t find the buckles for a few moments longer than what is socially necessary. A titular hiss comes from Vader’s direction when he grasps Boba’s mocking actions, smoothing out to his regular breathing when the belt thuds at his feet.

All that remains of course are his boots and kneeguards, forearm bracers and his precious codpiece veiling the very trophy Vader seeks within Boba’s flight suit.

“You are far from finished.” Vader scolds when Boba pauses his undressing.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there are just some things I won’t be taking off.” Boba advises, minimizing Vader’s expectations.

“A reasonable stipulation.” The hand still holding Boba in the air is stationary as his other one begins to rise, its strength concentrated on something lower than his bracers and helmet. 

The codpiece. 

The straps holding the plate secure are pulled taut and Boba’s groin begins to undergo a revolutionary onslaught as the tactile fasteners are stretched to extreme lengths until every last one snaps apart. “One that I care not to follow.”

It’s as if his palm has been magnetized that Vader promptly collects the triangular sheet of steel. Boba isn’t shocked that his fortitude includes obscene actions such as this. He’s more annoyed that he will be the one to repair that.

Vader holds the codpiece close to his shielded face, examining the details of its wear and tear. A polished section right at the center of the concave makes him chuckle as he surmises it has rubbed against Boba’s cock for years.

“I was using that.” Boba watches Vader indulge himself from afar, enticed by the swift absence of that item in particular.

“You’ve no need for it.” Vader disputes plainly, discarding it at his feet where the ringing clatter echoes into their collective ears. He waits for silence to fall again, a painstaking task that both of them seem to have the patience for. “Proceed.”

Boba shakes his head from side to side in feigned condemnation when Vader tests him. In spite of wanting to be the one to dictate what happens tonight, he does what is asked and begins unfastening the collar of his flight suit. With each section undone, Boba peels the fabric away to showcase his glistening chest, chiseled muscles catching what little light remains in the room.

With each row unfastened, Vader’s helmet tilts and sways, seeking every glimmer and flash of Boba’s taunting torso. The contours of his sculpted abdomen riddled with scars paint a delicious mosaic across his skin of all the times he’s been battered and beaten but survived. Vader admires him from where he stands, biting and moistening his dry, cracked lips from beneath his somber helm.

Vader bends the arm suspending Boba at the elbow and he soon senses himself drift forward, closing in towards the Dark Lord. From a few yards away, Boba at least felt some semblance of authority over things, but with this rapid advancement, it is clear that Vader has some games he is wanting to play first.

Boba closes in fast, unable to gauge the spike in velocity with the unanticipated near collision with Vader. He is stopped just short of running into him, a broadened mechanical fist halting his phantom induced advancements while still keeping Boba in mid air. His feet wiggle, expecting to come in contact with the ground but they just can’t reach.

Boba’s arms are still glued to his sides. The invisible bindings wrap around him like rope. Vader’s caught him in an impressive vice, examining him like a precious specimen before plunging a hand into Boba’s wide-open flight suit.

The mechanical digits grip Boba’s firm length, tightening against the buffer of leather and flesh. Boba chokes on his breath. Words get caught in his throat as he wrestles with this depraved attack. His enunciation falls apart into shuddered gasps and wanton groans with every precise stroke.

Boba has no recourse to fall back on but to receive all that is done to him. The secrecy of this setting paired with Vader’s impenitent proximity in keeping him restrained does wonders as Boba is brutishly worked over. He tries to cry out in protest, but Vader devises his own schemes against this by tightening his hold every time Boba squeaks. 

The constriction of Vader encasing him manifests to a potent degree in Boba’s groin. The lack of space to move or even express his elation is forfeit as Vader continues to stroke until he sees Boba imitate a geyser. Ejaculate shoots from Boba’s tip, landing in random sequences all over Vader’s suit while also dirtying his gloves. The collected spend in his fist acts as an ideal lubricant to stroke him even after he’s released all that he could in this instance. Although, instead of Boba being embarrassed, he makes light of this happenstance.

“Lot faster than last time, I’ll give you that.” Boba pants breathlessly as Vader finally sets him on his feet. With shaky knees, he staggers away, treating Vader like a cheap fuck ready to toss him a tip and show him the door. “Thanks for dropping by.”

Vader uses his soiled hand to grab at Boba’s wrist. The smearing of viscous liquid saturates his arm and Boba is able to sense the heat radiating through his glove from his prosthetic appendages, reluctant to let go. “Rethink how you address me. We are far from finished.”

“Relax, I’m not as big of a bantha’s ass you take me for.” Boba rescinds his joke, a spark of trepidation blooming in his gut when he can see that Vader did not take too kindly to that gesture.

“On the contrary.” Vader argues, yanking Boba back towards him. “I know for a fact that you are.”

“Well, don’t blow a fuse.” Boba traces the frame of Vader’s life support panel, his own leather fingertips leaving traces of him all over the components. “I wouldn’t leave you like that.”

“I wouldn’t let you.” Vader towers over him, craning his head down to peer into the blackened T-visor.

“Mighty words for a man who just let me come all over his suit.” Boba straightens his stature, attempting to meet Vader at his height to no avail. Vader glances down at the mess, his rebreather hissing when he sighs at the revelation. With no facial features to gauge his mood, Vader’s body language communicates all Boba needs to know. “What? Are you going to tell me to get on my knees now?”

“I was contemplating that.” Vader’s helm tilts again at this admission.

“Then say it.” Boba proposes to him while stepping so close, their chests nearly touching.

“Careful.” Vader warns with an intentional dip of his helm. “It would be easier to kill you now without your pretty armor.”

“So, you like my armor, eh?” Boba only acknowledges the complement in Vader’s threat.

“I know a superior chassis when I see it.” Vader drags his leather-clad finger against the sharpened edge of Boba’s steel helmet and pushes it up by an inch to reveal his mouth. The shift obscures Boba’s sight as his visor is moved out of place from his eyes, forcing him to look down the bridge of his nose through the shade. “Beskar is a highly revered ore.”

 “You still haven’t said it yet.” Boba lets his tongue venture out of his mouth at that last word and just barely licks the come off Vader’s finger. Boba’s flavor is salty and bitter, savoring it all the same. As they experiment with this, Vader staggers in his midst. One might believeVader is spared by these humane flaws, but the wits extend far past his very being and into the world around him. He is able to identify every scent that lingers in Boba’s sweat right down to the texture of his tongue when he tastes his glove. Boba keeps him on his toes by calling the shots this time no matter how much Vader may boast “I’m beginning to think you forgot what we were doing.”

“You do not give the orders here.” Vader quarrels to maintain his elevated standing, but Boba has a way of catching him off guard. “I do.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Boba gives him another proverbial nudge and it strikes Vader deeply when he sees what’s happening. “Say it.”

“On your knees.” Vader disbands all mirth from his inflection, serious as he addresses Boba but these are the exact words he’s been dying to hear.

“As you wish, my Lord.” Boba obeys, playing along even though he has plans of mischief in store. He bends his left leg first, following with his right and Vader’s stature practically doubles as his perspective shifts. Boba winces under his helmet at the hard flooring colliding a little rough than intended with his knee guards, but will endure for this renown trophy.

Vader’s layers have not yet been uncovered, but that’s nothing a simple press of a button cannot cure. Boba’s eyes meet with the curved, silver buckle fit with a tiny triangular latch embedded within. With a steady hand and a dexterous execution, Vader’s entire utility belt, codpiece and all, meet the ground with a thud as well. His tabard is free flowing at each side, encapsulating Boba like a blanket all around.

Vader peers at him, their visors meeting once provoked by the steamy implications of their positions as Boba pushes the draping sections of Vader’s tabard out of his way. He is captivated by Boba’s resolve, respecting the bounty hunter for never showing even a glimmer of fear. Vader is known to harbor utter disdain for his own constituents, but when Boba’s success rate proved to be one of if not the highest in the guild, he felt obliged to get in touch.

“You’re a generous guy, you know.” Boba thinks to worm his way into Vader’s head, adding to the broiling rush of this engagement.

“I am no such thing.” Vader vehemently disagrees, his iron fist clinging to the notion that he is to be feared and feared alone.

“What you do is a thankless job, is it not?” Boba adds, playing his own mind tricks on him. “Has anyone ever shown their gratitude for how safe you keep the galaxy?”

“That is a subjective claim you would not be making right now if our rapport sang a different tune.” Vader bends down but only slightly, just enough to test his grip on Boba’s throat. He doesn’t squeeze or utilize his supernatural abilities, but to simply massage the muscle and admire his open collar. The warm tone of Boba’s skin travels from his clavicle to his exposed and moistened pubic wreath, a trail of hair rising up to reach his naval. “Moreover, my work is not merely an outlet for praise.”

“Then what are you doing here?” Boba asks, bypassing Vader’s closed trousers where he easily locates his stiffened cock, freeing it from the small and slitted opening. His inanimate elements are hidden by clothing, but Boba’s hands on his thighs identify where man meets machine. 

“Enough chatter.” Vader’s hand moves from being clamped around Boba’s neck to pulling him forward by the jaw, his thumb and index finger pinching him at the hinge so his mouth stays open.

Boba smiles beneath his helmet when his widened mouth is invaded by Vader’s throbbing cock. The plump head sparkles with a sweet bead of forbidden nectar that Boba hastily licks up. The texture of Vader’s scorched and warped skin creates grooves and ridges that Boba didn’t notice the first time this happened. He was far too blinded by seething wrath that Vader would use him in such a way to even register the profound occasion. Even Boba didn’t know he had an appetite for the forbidden.

Vader maintains his hold on Boba’s jaw, moving him up and down his shaft to taste every inch of him until his nose collides with Vader’s structured torso. Boba slowly but surely demonstrates to Vader that he does not require his guidance. He takes initiative beyond Vader’s manual influence, evolving above the chaste up and down motions and acting with a bit of flair.

Boba gauges in his mouth how to better take all of him without gagging on it each time it hits the back of his throat. He tucks his chin, allowing Vader to fill his mouth and press staunchly into his tongue where he steers his cock to his hard palate. His jaw is opened to its furthest extents while he continues to bob while Vader’s audible breathing becomes more unstable by the second.

Vader lets go of Boba’s chin, giving over the reins to bolster his limbs so that he doesn’t buckle under the pressure. The cold, dead stare does a poor job of disguising Vader’s emotions. His modulated moans and gasps are peppered between the periodic hiss of his respirator, its motors kicked into overdrive to compensate for the exasperated activity.

Vader’s head is thrown back when Boba pulls his lips almost completely off his cock, circling the swollen and soaked tip with his tongue then practically choking himself right after. He intentionally goes down too fast, suffering the consequences with an inelegant gag.

Boba thinks it to be a mistake, committing to careful methods from here on out, but Vader will have none of it. He likes the sound, wanting to hear it again and again and again…

Vader rests his palms over Boba’s crown, keeping him still while he thrusts forward, fucking his mouth. Boba’s gagging becomes a percussive echo that Vader delights in, especially when he starts to grab fistfuls of his tabard and cape through the tussle.

Boba is starved for breath, needing to turn the tables and fast. He decidedly focuses on Vader’s weak points where his prosthetics join his corporeal form, pushing him as hard as he can until he loses his balance, falling backwards where he joins Boba on the floor.

Vader is saved by putting the heels of his palms out, catching himself before he could fall all the way on his back. Boba reigns supreme as he has Vader pinned now, his drooling and chapped mouth left agape and panting as he yanks his helmet back down. Vader curses him in his mind for taking away the precious sight, but his interests are piqued to see what Boba does next.

Once he realizes what this Dark Lord finds favor in, Boba is not as resistant to try new things, taking it by force if he has to since he knows Vader likes to play the game.

“Trying to catch me at a disadvantage, are you?” Vader says this as if he’s insulted that Boba would try something so debauched, meeting his fantasy with one of his own. “Very well.”

Vader snatches Boba by the collar, easing him into a straddle where his flight suit is torn apart. The opened section from his collar to his groin is breached beyond its bounds as Vader takes the fabric in his hands and shreds it so that Boba’s bare ass is put on display. His sleeves and pant legs are all that remain. Even then, the knee bracers are the only things holding what’s left of them up. Boba is jostled by the spontaneous wardrobe interference, tested more now than ever. “You owe me a new suit.”

“Whatever you require, you know the Empire will always provide.” Vader puts this discrepancy to bed, deciding to take Boba there next.

“Doesn’t matter.” Boba forces himself atop Vader, straddling his broadened waist and successfully pushing him down at the shoulders so that his back at last meets the floor. “It’s the principle of the destruction of property.”

“You’re my property.” Vader contradicts what Boba has to say with a rhetorical slander of his own. “To whom do I pay my dues for your destruction? Myself?”

“I’m no one’s property.” Boba disputes, gallant in his enunciation.

“You’re mine as long as you’re on my payroll.” Vader discloses, but Boba can read between the lines.

“Are you saying you’d be jealous if I took a contract from someone else?” Boba turns things around on him again, really getting under his armor this time.

Vader realizes the road this is going down, electing to punish Boba for these outbursts. There is no time wasted between Vader lifting Boba up and impaling him on his cock. He uses gravity to his advantage, pouring his essence into force fucking Boba. He doesn’t have to use hardly any tactile strength, relying all on his phantom grip to slam him down. 

Boba loses all ability to enunciate another word as the impetuous fullness extends deep into his core. His ass stretches around Vader’s cock, the saliva smoothly easing it past his threshold through the stinging dilation. Though, just when Vader thinks he’s conquered his opponent, Boba defies his will with a plight that will not be impeded.

Boba embraces this position, grinding his ass into Vader and driving his cock farther than either of them anticipated. His hands are surrendered unto Boba’s grasp where he presses both into the dusasteel gorget over Vader’s chest. Just as Vader was impaling him with his upward thrusts, Boba collides his ass with Vader’s hips. 

Boba’s cock tempts Vader as he fucks him, just flopping every which way right in front of his face. Sadly, He is not afforded the liberty of touching him, restrained and inhibited. Extensions of his frustration manifest in failed light sockets and sparks flying from random points in the ceiling. Wall panels are peeled off to reveal the inner workings of the building and the tiles under their feet are literally bending to Vader’s will.

Boba relishes in Vader’s defeat, a crater forming each time he seats himself atop this influx of inches. The sounds of destruction in the room grow more violent as Boba keeps at this, pestering Vader as the foundation of this building suffers. It is immaterial to them, worth far less than this moment. Boba raises the stakes by lifting a knee to allow for Vader to see all of him and in due course, he is subdued. It is not like Vader to wait on the grace of another, but with Boba, it happens all too naturally. 

Boba reaches climax by his own doing, enhanced by the presence of Vader’s panoptic grasp. He releases a guttural moan when Vader feels his ass tighten around his cock, flexing in tandem with hot ropes being shot all over him for a second time. Boba’s cock bounces through every jutting release, extending the perimeter of the fast-accumulating mess. 

It takes a bit more than this for Vader to get there, though he is not far behind. While still deep inside Boba, he scoops him up by that raised knee to shove him on his back and repeats the same with his other leg. Boba’s knees are almost pushed to his chest, the plates of  his armor tapping against his helmet. 

“Harder…” He begs with slight difficulty as Vader’s hands are occupied by keeping him folded in half. Boba does let another chance at rapture escape him. His gloves are saturated at this point, amplifying the slick grip he has on himself. Boba uses his other hand to assist in holding one of his knees back, spreading himself. 

“What an… insolent act it is to make… demands in your position.” Vader enunciates gruffly as he drives himself into Boba, punctuating his words with his herculean thrusts. He pauses, draping his body weight over Boba to nearly flatten him, speaking directly into his ear. “I will now teach you that one who inquires soon perishes.”

Vader stays cascaded over Boba, his ample weight making it next to impossible to fuck his fist, but he adeptly realizes that this hindrance is actually his salvation. Boba has no choice but to graze his padded thumb over the tip of his cock as that is all the space Vader affords him. This scarce deliverance is made up for by the depth Vader exceeds, punching Boba assertively with his cock like a battering ram assaulting a spire.

Wheezes and hizzing resound from Vader’s helm where they pour into Boba’s ears, noises that no other living being would be caught dead hearing. Vader succumbs to the strenuous engagement and one of the hands locked into the crook of Boba’s knee comes crashing down beside Boba’s helmet. The steel rings against their skulls, coaxing them into an irreversible daze.

Vader is thwarted by the throes of passion, his unyielding slams and thrusts are met with an involuntary convulsion as pooling heat is deposited inside Boba. Their deep breaths join together in unison as the bliss of their synchronous release takes them by storm. Boba’s subtle stroking was not unfruitful, a third and notably smaller load being expended from his exhausted cock. His endurance has been all but depleted and his muscles are becoming aware of the repercussions of this venture.

Vader hovers above Boba for a few seconds, his cock still plunged deep inside as they study each other’s eyes beneath the esoteric screen. He gives him a couple parting thrusts, flexing his shaft to ensure every remnant has been gifted to his prodigious associate. They say nothing, letting their gasps tell all.

Vader gently slips out of Boba, bowing his head to see it exit by the inch, heaving a large groan when it slips out taking his pearlescent ooze with him. His cock swings so heavily, dangling between his thighs and running into Boba’s as he pushes himself to his feet. He intentionally leaves Boba on his back, admiring his used and vulnerable posture.

“I take it you’re leaving now that you got what you came for?” Boba asks, propping himself up on his elbows to see what Vader does next.

Vader is charmed by this assumption, closing in on Boba where he strives to do what he does best and unnerve him. His natural walk sounds like stomping, each stride booming through the floor. Vader takes a knee and with his cock still out, he reaches for Boba’s, overly spent and sensitive. Vader is lofty and mountainous as he dwarfs Boba, still lying on the floor.“I was hoping we’d talk contracts.”

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

This chapter will contain some slight Italian small talk. Translations provided:

Ciao ragazzi.: “Hi guys/everyone.”

Buondí.: casual “Good day.”

Come stai?: informal “How are you?”

Stai bene?: “Are you well?”

Ce vediamo!: “See ya!” or “We’ll see each other!”

~~~

Audette sits in the back of her father’s car as the engine scuttles along. Capone is driving while Torrio fans himself in the front passenger seat. Ever since his most recent brush with death, he’s been suffering hot flashes that accompany bouts of breathlessness when he least expects it. He’s going through one right now, but it appears to subside as soon as they reach their destination.

“You good?” Capone asks him, offering his own pocket cloth to dab at some of the sweat on Torrio's brow, but he politely declines. 

“I’ll be fine once I step outta this car.” Torrio is eager to feel the wind on his face so Capone parks as fast as possible, hopping out to open his and Audette’s doors. Torrio lifts his face to the sky, drawing in lungfuls of fresh air until he’s comfortably acclimated. The dressmaker Torrio picked out is smack dab in the heart of Little Italy in Chicago. The lull of accordion dances in the air as the scent of fresh goods and ripe produce floods their nostrils. Children play in the street and patrons are bustling through the marketplace. For a moment there, Audette forgets her own woes and admires the bliss of commoner life, wishing her days weren’t so complicated.

“Buondí!” A man advanced in years is accompanied by a pair of assistants flanking each side. His arms raise to the sky at his greeting, lowering them only to shake Torrio’s hand and kiss his ring. “Ciao ragazzi!”

“Giovanni! You look better than the last time I saw ya.” Torrio gleefully relays to the owner as they enter a friendly embrace. “Come stai?”

“What can Giovanni say? God ehh, His smile on me, no?” Giovanni looks at Capone and Audette. “Who dis you brought? Lucky couple?”

 “Enough ribbin’, you know Al hates it. You’ve never had the liberty of meeting my turtle dove of a niece, Audette.” Torrio clarifies to Giovanni. “You’ll meet her beau soon enough when I wrestle him in here for a tux.”

“Nice to meet ya.” Capone gives him a slightly awkward smile before shaking his hand.

“Pleasure.” Audette curtsies at him. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Marino.”

“Pleasure all mine.” He likewise kisses Audette’s knuckles and bows to her in greeting.

“Still makin’ dresses?” Torrio asks Giovanni as he puts a hand at the nape of Audette’s neck, a gesture that would come off as endearing to some, but is cloaked in unrelenting control for her. “I’m hoping to get one made by the end of the month.”

“I do dis. I do in three weeks.” Giovanni claps loudly a singular time. “Done.” 

“She ain’t even picked one out yet.” Torrio is impressed with his confidence.

“No matter. Come.” Giovanni’s assistants open the double doors to his establishment, happy to welcome everyone into his place of business. “Make comfortable. I work quickly.”

Giovanii flicks his wrist at one of his assistants and a young man in a very tailored uniform departs from his staff to the countertop bar where he pours a collection of glasses full of iced water. The lobby is bathed in ivory with white marble tile and spotless furnishings. It’s so bright and clean compared to the dingy city streets just outdoors. Planters of orchids atop their end tables add pops of color to the surroundings and Audette can smell their perfume all the way from where she stands.

“Listen,” Torrio grabs hold of Giovanni’s sleeve, snagging him before he could venture deeper into the establishment with the intent to speak to him quietly and with purpose, “Whatever the kid wants, make it happen. Money is no object so I want her dressed to impress. Get me?”

“Oh, yes sir.” Giovanni places his palm on top of Torrio’s and looks him square in the eyes. “I put best assistants on task!”

He claps twice this time and Audette is promptly swept away by a pair of stylists to a dressing room where have ample room to handcraft a gown from scratch perfectly customized to her liking, though she’s having a difficult time realizing what that may look like. 

“How about this option?” One of the assistants holds a silk square of fabric out in comparison to chiffon and satin.

“Does this sleeve appeal to you?” Another displays a rack of deflated gloves, showcasing the different styles and lengths of sleeves they are capable of making.

“The beading on this bodice can be altered to any stone or sequin.” The last one describes as she outlines the sweetheart neckline with a cascade of opaque pearls.

The questions and suggestions come flying at Audette, but she’s hardly responding to a word they’re saying. After one too many clueless shrugs Giovanni overhears the impasse, and with a dismissive wave at his assistants, he steps in to aid you where they could not.

“Stai bene?” Giovanni comes up to Audette as the group watches on in silence, asking if she’s alright. “Scared for big day?”

“You could say that.” She knows he wouldn’t understand. Besides, places like these are typical rumor mills. The last thing she needs to do here is wax poetic about her first marriage that dissolved before it could even begin. She twirls her golden band around her finger, wishing she could go back to her modest little ceremony with Evan at the courthouse. She decides to lie, preserving her deepest sorrows. “I just hope it will be pretty enough.”

“No fret, child.” Giovanni cannot bear to see her saddened, sharing his infectious mood with her while also selling his masterful tailoring abilities. “This glorious day! No tears. Only smile. I make you look like angel!”

Countless fabric swatches and measurements later, Audette actually likes the vision Giovanni helped her come up with. The dress is held for adjustments, add ons and beading as well as the construction of Audette’s sleeves, her veil and other finishing touch accessories she threw in just to make Torrio’s wallet hurt a bit more. 

Capone and Torrio are practically asleep on the plush couches in the lobby when she finally comes out to meet them, becoming more alert when they see Audette enter the room alongside Giovanni. 

“I was beginning to think you forgot about us out here.” Capone gets moody when he is forced to participate in anything that doesn’t directly benefit him.

“Stop it.” Torrio corrects him with a dry scolding. “We’d wait out here all night if it means she gets what she wants.”

What a massive lie. This appointment and everything that pertains to it is the furthest thing from what Audette wants, but she must bite her tongue and endure all the same. 

“I call in week for next fitting.” Giovanni declares to Torrio in broken English. 

“I’ll be waiting.” Torrio retrieves his stuffed billfold and plucks a few hundred dollar notes out of it, giving them to Giovanni to pocket.”

“Ce vediamo!” Giovanni smiles as Capone leads the way back out the doors, opening them for both Torrio and Audette. 

“See ya next week!” Torrio hollers as he passes the threshold, waddling his way down the curb and back into the car where all three load up. The first couple minutes of the drive are quiet, but Capone keeps lifting his gaze to Audette’s in the rear-view mirror, unable to keep his thoughts to himself.

“How’d it go?” He asks, trying to get under her skin.

“It was fine.” Audette shrugs, giving Capone as little as possible.

“Welp, ya oughta look like a princess fer what we’re payin that schmuck, alls I’mma say.” Capone adds, rather distasteful to the point it earns a slap to his shoulder.

“The hell’s the matter with you?” Torrio scolds him for a second time. “Giovanni is a good man. He demands your respect.”

“Sorry John.” Capone corrects himself, and for once Audette actually feels a smile break through her lips when his jab comes back to hit him. “I was only teasin’.”

He decides against another outburst for the remainder of the drive. When Capone pulls into Vincent’s mansion, he’s already out there waiting for Audette. He remains seated behind the wheel while Torrio steps out of the car to greet him. Vincent politely accepts his hand, shaking it once before leaning to open Audette’s door.

“Thank you. I’m tired, I think I’ll lie down.” She speaks softly, hoping to slip into the house but Torrio won’t let her off the hook so soon.

“Woah, hey now.” Torrio speaks up, stopping Audette from going another step. “Is that how you greet ya husband?”

“He’s not my husband.” Audette retains her defiance. “Not yet.”

“Don’t matter.” Torrio could care less about a silly technicality “Y’all are tyin’ the knot before the month is out. Gotta act like it. High time you learned how a proper bride should behave.”

Audette takes in a long breath through her nose and lets it out her mouth in a dramatic sigh. As she makes her approach, Vincent remains clueless on what to do, slightly bowing his head to achieve her level.

Audette leaves no space between herself and Vincent, standing on the tips of her toes to touch a hurried peck on the apple of his cheek. She steps down, hoping that would suffice, but Torrio wastes no time in voicing his critique.

“You can’t be serious.” He exclaims, dissatisfied while Capone addictively eats up her torture. “C’mon. Like ya mean it.”

Audette swallows hard in her dry throat, burying the betrayal she knows she’s committing against Richard. She thinks to herself that if she can close her eyes and imagine it’s him, maybe it will be believable.

Audette takes his hand in hers. Right off the bat it is not as calloused as Richard’s, already making it difficult to ground her to him, so she tries to concentrate and think past it. To give them what they want, she slightly yanks Vincent towards herself by the fold of his lapel. She can tell he is stunned by her daring initiative. He’s only ever dreamed of this, much to his detriment. He knows he shouldn’t have these feelings, but they’re surely only growing stronger.

Audette places Vincent’s hand she’s holding around the small of her waist and he takes the hint, pulling her in while removing his hat. They’re pressed against each other with Torrio watching in anticipation and Capone uneasily averting his vision.

He communicates with his eyes his immense apologies. Sorrow is molded on his face, but it is almost completely overshadowed by his fright. Audette lets him know this is okay. They're trapped by circumstance. 

Vincent’s eyes meet Audette’s in the split seconds he’s lingering above her head before their lips collide. They must be as persuasive as they can without losing momentum.

She caresses his face like she does to Richard, her thumb grazing the spot on his cheek where she kissed him first. Her fingers curl along his nape and Vincent’s shuddered breath is indiscernible from her own. The scent of his cologne gets stronger as she closes in. His jawline bears the scantest appearance of stubble, but just enough for Audette to know it’s there. She prepares to turn her face slightly to the side to accommodate for a mask as she’s made a habit of the motion with Richard, realizing too late that it’s a redundant move to make on Vincent.

Their faces slightly bump when they kiss at last. She adjusts herself right then and hopes it appears fluid enough for Torrio that he didn’t notice. Vincent’s lips remind her of the swatches of silk and chiffon she felt at her fitting. She’s grateful that he does not venture beyond his means, cordial and polite while reinforcing the idea that Audette is able to witness his kindness at every turn. Soon, the pair melt into each other, finding a forbidden comfortability in their arms. It starts with one smooch, gradually moving their lips with conviction. What began as a tiny peck evolves into a second, more dynamic exchange before testing limits when a third is established.

Vincent is pushed away by Audette like being thrown from a trance. She cleans up her smeared lipstick while Vincent lifts his hand to his mouth, licking them upon reflex. He swoons with a press of his index and middle finger against his sealed smile, visibly stunned. Audette straightens her dress, looks Torrio and Capone dead in the eyes and says, “There.”

“Now that’s more like it.” Torrio tips his hat to Vincent, proud of him for his progress in winning over Audette. “Take it easy, you two. I’ll not have a baby shower before we even pronounce you man and wife. Hah!” 

Laughing as he climbs into the car, Capone closes his door and gets behind the wheel, glaring at Audette knowing this is all fake. He lets her keep this fantasy, driving away so they’re left alone to deal with the aftermath.

Vincent looks like he wants to say something but Audette hurries up the porch steps before he can. She can’t believe she did that. How is she going to explain this to Richard? She contemplates even telling him, cursing herself for thinking that. It’s no question he should know about it, but she dreads being the one to deliver the news. She shelves the thought, knowing it’ll be a long time before she’ll have the chance to even speak to him. It’s no use burning a hole in her head now, but that’s easier said than done.

Vincent enters the house, closing the door behind him. It’s quiet and awkward as he looks like a guest in his own home. He still has a faded tint of Audette’s lipstick on his face, and that fact alone strips her of the strength needed to bring herself to look at him. She chooses to observe out the kitchen window, filling a glass with water to sip on while admiring the sunshine. Is it beaming like this on the Atlantic coast? If only its radiance could teleport her to a better place, one where Richard might be.

“How did the erm… consultation go?” Vincent bashfully breaks the silence.

Ughhhh…” Audette closes her eyes, revoking the blessed golden rays she was admiring.

“You don’t have to tell me.” Vincent shakes his head at her reaction, finding himself walking on eggshells. “Perhaps I should pour us something stronger.”

“There is something I should tell you though.” Audette looks back out the window, her mood reflecting the return of the city’s gloomy weather, all traces of sunshine being cast away by thick cloud cover. “I apologize for treating you like that, Vincent. I have nothing against you; I just hate when he taunts me.”

“You’re the last person who should be expected to grovel and repent.” Vincent opens a cabinet door to retrieve a pair of crystal glasses, pouring a finger or so of the closest alcohol he can reach on the counter. That happens to be a rather strong merlot, a tasteful change from all the hard scotch and rum. “He’s just testing us.”

“Yeah, and we barely passed.” Vincent comes up behind her with her glass. 

She eagerly accepts it, though there was a time she hardly ever drank. By now, she’s grown fond of the stuff as it’s been crucial in taking the edge off her misery. “Thank you.”

Vincent raises his own to his mouth, sipping his serving. They stand in silence and her scent lingers intoxicatingly around him. He’s suddenly made aware of the oily film over his mouth where her lipstick is still slightly smudged when he takes a drink. It stains the rim of his glass and Audette notices. “You still have a little, uhm…”

Vincent looks at his glass then touches his fingers to the smudge, collecting a bit of it. He takes a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes his mouth clean. “Ah. Yes. Thank you.”

Audette can tell he wasn’t expecting that. It put him on the spot, and she feels the need to clear the air. “Do you maybe want to talk about it?” 

“I’m surprised you want to.” Vincent swirls his drink, tiptoeing around the subject.

“I sort of bombarded you back there.” Audette explains nervously between chaste drinks of her merlot. “If it were the other way around, I’d want a little heads up.”

“Engaged couples don’t give each other a heads up before they kiss.” Vincent wipes the rim of his glass and sips. “They're comfortable enough to expect it.”

“They do, don’t they?” Audette feels better about what happened, but it still doesn’t erase the deed. “So, I did the right thing?”

“I don’t think a right or wrong exists in our position.” Vincent shakes his head, unsure if he can give her an answer he believes. “We’re just trying to survive.”

“Humor me.” She begs, taking a larger swig this time and nearly finishing off her drink.

“Yes, you did the right thing. I take no offense in what happened.” Vincent thinks for a moment at the deeper repercussions of this, and any more that may occur in the future. “If you’re worried about me telling Richard, rest assured that I won’t unless you want me to.”

“I find it difficult not to worry about it.” Audette admits, almost trembling. “But he should hear it from me.”

“He loves you.” Vincent adds sincerely. “He will understand.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about. I can’t change what he thinks about you.” Audette waves her hand between herself and Vincent “Because of this.”

“Torrio’s arrangement.” Vincent confirms with a somber nod.

“Yes.” Audette turns her back to Vincent, facing the wall and spinning her glass on the smooth countertop. “And the more I try and think of a way out, the more I realize there isn’t one.”

“If I stay on the path I have started with him and Jimmy, I can establish myself outside of Torrio’s bounds and he won’t have control over us anymore.” Vincent is so hopeful, really wanting this to work.

“That path still requires us to be married though.” Audette mentions something that should be obvious to Vincent, but in all his ambitions, he must have overlooked it. She turns to him now, making eye contact so that there can be no question of the veracity of what Audette is about to say. “Many of these connections you’re utilizing to get there came from your father. The funding comes from mine.”

“Soon I’ll have control of my own funding.” Vincent still thinks there’s a way out, his hope now sounding like naivete. “I won’t have to rely on anyone else’s.”

“But how’s that going to look?” Audette dissects his claims and Vincent deflates at every point she makes. “The previous boss steps down to pass the torch to his son in law only for him to divorce his sanctioned bride? Or worse, for her to be caught in an affair?”

“I suppose I didn’t think that far ahead.” He begins to chew the skin of his inner cheek, plunged in thought as he now has to reassess his plans.

“Well, I have.” Audette now realizes that Vincent didn’t really take into account these variables, but she’ll not penalize him for it. “That’s all I think about.”

“I don’t want to come between you and Richard.” Vincent’s honorable perspective is what makes him the perfect target, and he knows there are many in the Outfit that would kill to have his position. “I’m sure you’re sick of having me as your ball and chain too.”

“No, Vincent, you’re a kind and honest man.” Audette drops her shoulders in apology. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s alright.” Vincent appears meek, humble in her presence at the notion of Audette regarding him as such. “I didn’t take it that way.” 

“Look, I know the way I treated you when we first met wasn’t my best, and I’ve grown to greatly appreciate your company through this. It's been hard.” Audette adjusts her stance, sipping the merlot. It coats her throat and warms her belly, making this conversation a teeny bit tolerable. “It’s just a lot… being coerced to do the things I wish to do with Richard, but with you.”

“I didn’t know he was going to demand us to-” Vincent cuts himself off, incapable of speaking the action into existence. “That was unexpected.”

“It won’t be the last time.” Audette confirms woefully. “I can’t fathom having to do that in front of people. The entire city will come to a standstill at the wedding, and we’ll be expected to act accordingly in front of them all. The ceremony. The dancing. My first wedding wasn’t anything close to this.”

“I’ll hopefully have found a solution before it gets to that point.” Vincent doesn’t know what to say, so he chooses to help Audette focus on something else, but it does not go as planned.

“And if you don’t?” Audette challenges him again. She cannot rely on ‘ifs’ or ‘maybes’. “That might have been enough to fool my father, but not the other families. Not a commoner on the street. That’s just asking for the tabloids to run rampant.”

“What do you suggest?” Vincent is at a loss, relying on what Audette might be able to come up with.

“I guess we have some rehearsing to do.” Audette sets her glass down, freeing her hands to rest on the counter.

“W-what?” A tone of shock enters Vincent’s voice.

“I don’t want to have an internal crisis every time a situation like that arises. I’m sure you don’t either.” Audette would rather not do this, but their predicament requires it. “We haven’t had a chance to get used to, well, us.”

“Maybe we’re not supposed to.” Vincent nobly wishes to preserve his relationship with Audette as much as possible, afraid any more contact will deepen his feelings. As it would turn out, his crisis is of another nature entirely. “But I still want to make this easier for you.”

“Let’s just start small.” Audette steps toward him and takes Vincent’s glass. She sets it beside hers and closes in. He’s frozen, silent except for the very audible gulp in his throat. “A hug is simple enough, right?”

He gives her a nod, looking down at her now that she’s inches away again. His height at this perspective makes Audette appear so small, but she’s full of broiling power and fury; a trait he’s come to admire immensely about her.

Audette finds after a few seconds of holding each other that he’s far too stiff. His rigid stance is unnatural and actually kind of makes Audette ill at ease. He isn’t even hugging her back, sort of just standing there. “Vincent. Relax. Just hold me like you would anyone.” 

He takes a deep breath, clears his throat and shakes out his shoulders. “But you’re not just anyone. You’re supposed to be my fiancée.”

“And you said it yourself that engaged couples are afforded no warning.” Audette is convincing in her speech, speaking reason effectively to Vincent. “This is all the notice we’re gonna get.”

She lays her head on his chest and wraps her arms around his waist. Vincent’s arms encircle her shoulders, caging Audette in his space. There his heart goes again, beating incredibly fast and pounding against her ear. His stable breaths become deeper and more winded. Right when he’s trying to be present and calm as Audette welcomes it, flashes of his tri-state venture creep into his psyche. Rather, they never left, but the weight of everything makes him feel trapped. Visions flash in his mind’s eye, tormenting him. The mud, the blood and the grinding of the woodchipper, all peppered with the assorted pop of gunshots.

He uses one hand to reach for his collar, loosening it with a yank at the knot of his tie. Audette feels that he’s burning up as he shifts in her grasp despite still holding him. He continues to fidget, unable to let up until it ultimately beckons her attention. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I uh… I just need some air.” Vincent slips away, heading out back to the patio garden. The delirium comes on fast and his world is spinning, nauseated by the overpowering scent of iron, gunpowder and petrichor.

Audette is left to observe, following at a distance. She watches Vincent lean against the wall while clutching his chest, but right when she goes for the doorknob to check on him, the phone on the wall beside the exit rings.

“Colosimo residence.” She picks it up while keeping her eyes on Vincent lest he keels over.

“Audette? It’s Jimmy.” She can hear him smoking a cigarette with the way he’s breathing on the other end. “Vincent around?”

“He’s on the patio.” Audette admits while looking at him through the crystal-clear parlor window. 

“Lemme talk to ‘im.” Jimmy flatly requests.

“Would I be able to speak to Richard first?” Audette practically begs, knowing that where Jimmy is, Richard isn’t far.

“He’s not available.” Jimmy carries a slight dishonesty in his tone, holding something back.

“That’s what you’re going with?” Audette can sense something, but she’ll leave the revelation to him if he is willing to share with her.

Jimmy looks across the room where Richard is currently indisposed. He’s roughing someone up amidst an interrogation, punching a man tied to a chair in what looks like a dingy cellar hidden from the light of day. With each blow he lands, splatters of blood paint the dusty concrete floor as his captive continues to cry for mercy. “He’s uhh… busy right now.” 

Audette can overhear groans of pain and agony. She is constantly reminded of the hurdles that befall them. Audette doesn’t even need to be aware of what the altercation is about to know it’s in her best interests to remove herself from its consideration. “Just… please tell him-

“I know, I’ll tell him you love him.” Jimmy knew what she was going to ask before she uttered the words.

“Thank you, Jimmy. I’ll get Vincent.” She sets the mouthpiece down, careful not to hang up before racing to the back door where she’s pleased to see Vincent has caught his breath. “Jimmy’s calling.”

He nods at Audette, slicking his hair back with a couple passes of his hands before he moves to dab the sweat off his face. Upon yanking it out of his pocket, he notices the spot of red. His stomach sinks when he’s reminded of Audette’s lipstick being the cause of the stain, hiding it away as he goes to the phone.

“Here he is.” Audette passes the mouthpiece to Vincent, and he holds the receiver to his ear.

“Jimmy.” He addresses him, awaiting a response “What’s new?”

“We have a problem.” Jimmy tells him plainly.

“What happened?” Vincent asks, wondering what could possibly have gone wrong now.

“Has Torrio mentioned anything about a missing payroll shipment?” Jimmy questions, considering if he’s even aware of the discrepancy.

“He hasn’t said anything. Not to me, at least. He and Capone were just here.” Vincent is confused as he hasn’t been confronted despite having just seen them in person. “We should be getting a steady revenue stream from Baltimore regardless.”

“Turns out the guy who intercepted its delivery works for none other than that brother-in-law of yours.”

“Is that right?” Vincent’s temper has already been tested today, yet Capone sure does know how to add insult to that injury. “Didn’t think he was dumb enough to do that.”

“You needa get a leash on that bastard.” Jimmy is angered and rightfully so. “We got too much ridin’ on this.”

“How’d you find out?”

“The shipment was spotted by my boys heading into Chicago as per usual, only instead of going to the Deuces like all the others, it rolled up to The Green Mill Lounge.” Jimmy explains, knowing the conversation is about to get more tense. “I know our agreement was to eliminate anyone who intervenes with the deliveries, but I’m not stupid enough to come close to Al right now.”

“That fucker.” Vincent begins thinking of ways to approach this. If he doesn’t act on it now, it will happen again and everyone will think he is nothing more than a doormat.

“I’m surprised Aiuppa hasn’t called about it yet.” Jimmy increases the stakes of their situation by declaring even more unavoidable issues. “You’d think he’d notice one of his trucks missing.”

“He’s probably waiting for me to let him know.” Vincent is eternally grateful for Jimmy’s forewarning, contemplating ways to use all this information to his advantage.

“Good luck with that.” Jimmy chuckles under his breath. “Yours a pair of shoes I wouldn’t wana fill.”

“Thanks for letting me know, Jimmy.” Vincent’s gratefulness is palpable. Information is currency and he just hit the jackpot.

“Yeah, don’t mention it.” Jimmy doesn’t need Vincent’s gratitude. Knowing he’s working against Capone is reward in itself. “We’re handling things on our end. Talk to ya soon.”

“Wait, one last thing.” Vincent holds up Jimmy for just a bit longer.

“What’s that?” Jimmy asks in anticipation of the cherry to top this conversation off.

“Torrio moved up the wedding.” Vincent makes eye contact with Audette this time as she overhears the conversation, mourning in his expression.

“He what?” Just as Jimmy lets out this exclamation, Richard has concluded his interrogation, wiping the blood off his bruised knuckles and pacing closer to listen. Jimmy’s eyes grow frightfully wide, stumped on how to let Richard in on this volatile tidbit. “For when?”

“I’ll explain more later.” Vincent cannot divulge in the details right now, putting it off until he’s actually had time to think things through for himself. “We have to act soon. Be prepared.”

“Call me when you can.” Jimmy adds before hanging up, Vincent doing the same on his end.

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

A repetitive chime emits from the bridge. The noise travels through the empty halls of this interstellar vessel and makes its way to the room you share. You’re woken up, not by the noise, but his absence. He’s dressed in nothing, floating out of the room to answer whatever call awaits him as his toes linger centimeters from the hull floor. 

You watch him exit, pretending to be asleep. The hatch door slides shut behind him as he makes his way to the console. You leap out of bed and scramble to the door, pressing your ear to it. You listen for anything, but can only make out a very short and muffled conversation. The exchange ends and you feel him alter the current course of the ship.

You’re met with only silence for a couple beats, realizing too late that he must be floating back. While you’re unable to hear any footsteps, you can calculate the swiftness of his distance traveled and know that he’s sure to arrive within the next couple seconds.

You make it in the nick of time. The thin sheet falls over your naked form as you take a deep breath to make it seem like you’re not winded, lying as still as possible upon his entry.

You feel him sit on the edge of the bed, still undressed. You peek through your eyelashes to see that he’s hanging his head, caught in both hands.

You stretch like you’re just being roused, playing up your drowsy voice for him. “Mmm… I was wondering where my space heater went.”

“I knew you were awake.” His tone is flat, bothered and not playful like he usually is.

“Guilty as charged.” You admit, still unaware of the misfortune brewing. “I felt you leave. Where did you go?”

“I’ve been summoned.” Conquest declares with distaste, stricken by the words he says to you right now. “I’m taking you back to Earth.”

“Wait, just like that?” You sit upright in the bed, nearly giving yourself whiplash. “Why?”

“I cannot bring a human to my planet.” Conquest explains, refusing to look at you. “It is forbidden, and I’ll not see them make you a slave. Or worse.”

“So, you’re just going to get rid of me?” As an argument ensues, you sense a fire in your belly. “You act like I still have a life to go back to. I don’t. You made sure of that.”

“I can set you up on another planet of your choice.” He mulls over the options in his mind, thinking out loud. “I’ll simply pull up a galactic map and-

“And just revert to the first option you had when you brought me here?” You’re getting angrier, unable to accept this proposal. “Why the hell would you rip me away from my job and home if this was going to be the outcome all along?”

“Look, I didn’t plan on this.” Conquest lifts his gaze and turns to look at you, reaching behind himself with his mechanical right hand. “For all I knew, they banished me, at least that’s what it felt like.”

“That’s bullshit.” You see through his ignorance, knowing it goes far deeper than that. “If that’s even remotely true, why would they call you back?”

“Some new method of humiliation, I’m sure.” It’s clear that he sees no hope in his return, knowing more issues arise if he does not heed this summons. “One I refuse to allow you to witness.”

“No!” You yell at him this time, your resonance ringing in such confined space. 

“No?” His eyes are trained on yours, a serious expression forming in his features. “You dare to deny me?”

“I do.” You stand your ground, crossing your arms over your bare chest. 

“I could crush you if I wanted to.” Conquest threatens, but you know far better. “Then you’d no longer be a problem.”

“It wasn’t long ago that this problem was your solution.” Your clever counter meets his ears and he’s surprised by your wit. “If you truly want to kill me, then act.”

“You’d rather die by my hand than return to Earth?” He towers above you, his height dwarfing your own stature.

“I’m waiting.” You taunt, holding firm to your decision.

“I’m not going to give you what you want.” Conquest’s clenched fists relax as his palms slowly open, reaching for you with tenderness instead of rage and brutality. “It’s a senseless waste of my energy.”

“Then that means I’m coming with you then, doesn’t it?” You ask him excitedly.

“Ugh…If you must.” He grumbles under his breath, knowing when he’s lost. 

“See, now that wasn’t so hard.” You accept his hand and he pulls you into his lap. It feels much better to be back in his warmth again. “You could have just asked nicely.”

He lays back, letting you fall right on his chest but he doesn’t stop there. Conquest slips out from under you to climb over top your bare physique, pinning your wrists to the mattress surface. His inanimate arm pinches your skin when it gets caught between the plates of armor, but you’ve grown fond of the sting. He separates your legs with his broad knee against yours so that when he lays on you, you’re straddling him. He grinds into you, pressing his girth against your exposed sex as your combined weight begins to sink into the bed. With his face inches from yours, you feel his breath on your skin as he says, “If you’re coming with me, we need to establish some ground rules.”

“Good luck getting me to focus on anything you say when you’re looking at me like that.” You add while biting your lip at him.

“I could still crush you.” He says with a grit of his teeth. “You’re trapped, my little pet.”

“Okay, okay.” You grin in agreement, reeling back the hilarity to actually pay attention “What are your rules?”

“First, you are not allowed to leave the ship.” He starts. “You cannot turn it on, nor can you fly it anywhere.” 

“I’m not confident to even operate the toilet alone, so you’ve got a deal on that front.” You laugh at your own remark, but he remains stone-faced and unamused.

“You cannot make a sound. I know you humans like your music and singing, but you are unable to even hum in my absence. Understood?”

“That’s gonna be a tough one.” You admit, knowing he’s mentioning this specific tidbit when he’s noticed how you idly utter your own tunes to everything you do.

“Promise me.” He braces himself against you, bouncing once against the bed’s resistance. “It could cost you your life if anyone were to know I brought you with me.”

“I promise.” You nod sincerely at him. “Not a sound. You’ll forget I’m even here.”

“I find that very difficult even if I tried.” He keeps holding onto your wrists, opting to lean down and bite your chest savagely with his jagged teeth

“Ow, bastard!” You exclaim through lighthearted giggles, wishing you could rub the sore spot surrounding your nipple where he’s left a prominent mark and a ring of spittle. “What was that for? I said I’d do everything you say!”

“Wanted to take your voice with me.” Conquest’s tone is sweeter now as he bends forward to kiss you, his ivory mustache brushing along your upper lip and ticking your nostrils. “Hear you echo in my mind.”

“And you didn’t prefer to hear me say your name or…?” You wonder about his eccentric tastes and how deeply he actually values you.

“Hearing you scream it would be better.” He adds, thrusting again where he swiftly begins claiming you as his. You can tell he needs this release before facing the cruelty of his overseers, accepting his longing needs as the only one who can appease them.

~~~

Conquest walks in slowly with his prosthetic arm freshly polished in neutral steel instead of his previous bronze one. He’s made sure to look his best for this appearance. The cold and empty throne room is silent. His head is held high despite the slight repentant knit in his brow. He maintains eye contact the whole way through, making it to the end of the aisle. His scar across his features is pulled down a bit due to the ever-growing tension in his face. Kregg stands against the wall to his right while the infamous Anissa occupies the left, both judging him with their stares. With a bow of his head and a droop of his eyelids, Conquest puts his flesh fist to his chest before humbly speaking on his own behalf, meanwhile you’re knee deep in snooping around his ship.

You’re operating by pilot light, but your eyes have had ample time to adjust to the lack of illumination. You’ve never been alone here, so you’ll take advantage of as much time you’re afforded. You’re opening drawers, reading labels, but most everything is empty. Although, you go to open one drawer and you hear something rattle inside. 

Unable to see, you seek it with an outstretched palm until you find something small and cold. It’s made of steel and difficult to make out. Holding it in your hand, it looks to be a little bracelet, possibly for an infant. An italicized font simply reading ‘Conquest’ with a series of indiscernible numbers is inscribed on the surface. The numbers are challenging to make out, but there’s a sudden familiarity in them, like you’ve seen them before.

Of course! At the monitor on the bridge! There’s a constant display of the time and date relative to Viltrum’s standard time. Serendipitously enough, it’s today’s date.

It takes all your might not to gasp so loud they’d hear it in the next system. You shriek in your mind, screaming, “It’s his birthday? And he didn’t tell me?!”

As quietly as you can, you begin to look through his pantry and other food storage, saddened when you find that it’s almost completely barren. You make a mental note in your mind that sure, it’s easy to get whatever you want from the closest unsuspecting system, you’re left to your own devices otherwise.

A saving grace appears when you notice a pre-baked loaf cake you insisted on picking up after your latest trip to the trade market, though you had no idea you’d be needing it in this urgent fashion. You simply were craving something sweet to munch on during your travels.

You don’t have much in the way of sprinkles, so you mix coarse sugar with freeze-dried fruits to create a colorful powder with them, careful not to stain the sleeves of your robe. Pink, blue and yellow are the best and most vibrant options, coming together far better than you expected. Using the same sugar, you dissolve it in a couple splashes of milk that was sourced from an animal whose name you can’t pronounce, and a runny glaze forms after a few passes with a spoon.

Pouring the mixture over top of the loaf, the tin pan it’s baked in collects the pooling icing. Next, you take pinches of each color and sprinkle them on the shiny glaze to distribute across the cake. Now you wonder what to do about the candles, cleaning up your mess so that you can solve this mystery.

Thankfully, you spot his collection of incense, knowing he won’t miss any. You take one thin, resin-dipped stick and plunge it into the crest of the cake. You want to light it so badly, but you wait, not wanting ash to drop all over nor reveal your position. Decidedly, you put the whole thing away and hide it so not even he knows what you’ve made. It’s taking a while for him to get back, so you clean up evidence and start to get bored, so you think of ways to kill time, settling on lying down again.

You lie in wait for him to come back atop the bed you’ve been sharing since he picked you up. It smells like him. You wonder if he’s okay, but become distracted by the sound of hatches sliding open. At first, you get excited and prepare to exit and greet him. However, when you realize it’s a pair of Viltrumites having idle conversation while scoping out the place, you panic, racking your brain for a game plan to save yourself.

Your eyes zip back and forth, scanning your surroundings for somewhere to hide. The only plausible spot you could think of is a tiny cupboard within the ample closet space that blends in with other storage compartments. After shrinking as much as you can, you climb inside while putting a sheet over yourself, praying they don’t look too closely.

The door opens and light floods into the room. You catch it refract through the crack in the cupboard, holding your breath with your hand clamped over your mouth to not make a sound,  listening carefully.

“This place is sad.” One says to the other as they float at each other’s flanks. “Looks like he actually needs to sleep.”

“How the mighty have fallen. Probably takes naps every now and then.” The other agrees, laughing at Conquest’s expense.

“Weak like a worthless human.” They continue the berating exchange and you have no choice but to sit and hold your breath.

“Wait, what’s this?” One of them picks up your shoe and examines it, noticing a womanly footprint stained on the sole. “Think he can fit into a pair of these?”

“That’s not the only one.” The other advances to the closet where you begin to tremble in fear. A thin cupboard door and layer of textile is all that separates you from certain death. The light to the closet is switched on and you’re petrified they’ll see you now, but all they are privy to is the wardrobe kindly tailored to your needs. “There’s a dress for every day of the year in here.”

“They’ve been worn.” The first announces, looking closer and sniffing. “You can still smell the perfume.

“Huh.” His partner scoffs, almost impressed. “Didn’t know he had it in him.”

“Let’s be real, a guy like that probably needs a lot of shoulders to cry on.” They continue back and forth, revealing no end to their vulgar bitterness.

“Did you see his face when Thragg addressed him at the assembly?” The other adds. “I thought he was going to piss his uniform right then and there!”

They laugh amongst themselves while turning off the light to leave. You wait until you know they’re off the ship, heaving an exhaustive breath of relief. Once you’ve successfully calmed yourself, you cut your losses and diligently wait until Conquest is back to come out of hiding, though it turns out he’s taking a lot longer than you anticipated.

After a while you’re getting uncomfortable. Your legs are falling asleep, your butt has gone numb, but your attention is brought to the light being switched back on. You look all over for a weapon, crestfallen at the realization you have none, so you arm yourself with a shoe within arm’s reach. You grip it in both hands, the heel pointed out. It’s different from the last time. No one is speaking, but you’ll not be blindsided this time. 

Your stomach drops when someone rather intentionally goes to stand in front of the very cupboard you’ve shut yourself away in. Their shadow blocks out the light as he chose not to turn one on in the closet. Your dresses are being scooted on the rack from where they hang and the noise is loud as it reverberates through the space. Nothing could compare to the fright you feel when the door finally opens, though you’re infinitely relieved to see that it’s him.

“Were you going to hit me with that?” His crooked smile is a sight for sore eyes. You can see that his lip is bloodied, fresh swelling blooms on his jaw. He has a shiner marked over his only good eye and his clothes are torn in places with slashes and scratches creating holes all over. Blood stains him from head to toe.

“I was thinking about it.” Humbled, you discard the footwear and he helps you out of the hiding spot, giving you a better look at him. “You’re hurt.”

“No, I’m not.” He reassures you, thinking nothing of his heavily apparent wounds, minimizing their severity like he’s not even affected. “What were you doing in there?”

“A couple of your brethren came to inspect your ship.” The emphasis on your words tells him everything he needs to know about the impression that was left in their wake.

“You hid yourself well.” Conquest praises you with a nod. “This reunion could have ended differently.”

“They were too busy talking shit about you to even notice me, I think.” Blood is at last able to travel to your lower extremities, tingling your muscles down to your toes. You shake off the foreign discomfort, gaining sensation in your legs once again.

“Really?” His curiosity slices through his aloof attitude. “What did they say?”

“They think you’re an old man who needs naps.” You point at the messy bed, craving a roll around in the sheets with him again. 

“After a day like today, I sure could use one.” Conquest is burdened by the demands of his society, happier than ever to be back with you.

“So, what now?” You ask, tiptoeing around the elephant in the room. “Are we in the clear?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” His honesty is startling, but you lend an ear to his consideration. “I failed my mission, and I will be justly punished, but they still find use of me.”

“What does that mean for us?” You have a right to know, what with your future constantly shifting.

“It means I will have to be extra careful with you.” Conquest adds, his immoveable stature colliding with yours and nearly taking you down if he hadn’t swiftly caught you by the hip. “No more surprises.”

“That doesn’t apply to me though, right?” You think this to be as good a time as any, making a perfect segue into his own little name day bash.

“You happen to surprise me all the time.” He thinks you’re suggesting something completely different, dropping his hands lower so that each one can hold you by the crest of your ass cheeks.

“No… That comes later.” You reach back and take his hands off you, much to his dismay. Instead, you push him towards the bed so that he can take a seat. “I do have something for you. Wait here.”

Conquest obeys your command, actually quiet for once when he’s keen on the revelation of this mystery you’ve prepared. He settles in where you leave him, somewhat indisposed as he doesn’t know what to do with himself, twiddling his thumbs on his lap in confusion. He’s such a gargantuan man, and you’ve managed to put him on the spot.

Before exiting the room, you switch the light back off, leaving him alone in quiet dimness. You’re gone for only a minute or two. The anticipation makes him eager to see you come back through the hatchway. His wish is promptly granted, surprised to see you shielding a singular flame from the wafting wind that longs to put it out with every step you take.

Conquest’s brows raise and his bottom lip falls away from his mustache. He’s not uttered a word, just allowing himself to take it all in. Your face is glowing from the flame as it flickers, your beaming smile proudly stretched from ear to ear. His reaction isn’t what you were expecting, leading you to believe you’ve made the wrong move. “You don’t like it.”

“I’m not entirely sure I know what it is.” He examines the toppings you’ve placed on the cake, sugar and glaze sparkling brightly beneath the incense stick.

You pull the bracelet out of your robe pocket and place it in his powerful hands. It looks like an earring now, so tiny and hard to believe it was once wrapped around his wrist.

“Where did you find this?” His expression is severe and unyielding. You begin to grow frightened.

“It was in one of the drawers out there.” You’ll not lie. Not when he’s looking at it like this.

His fist closes around the bracelet, concealing the memento with his folded digits. A deep sigh escapes him and he closes both eyes.

“I-I’m sorry. I saw that it was for today and I just,” You struggle to find the right words. “I had to do something.”

“Ah.” He gets it now. “The age-old human custom.”

“This was stupid.” You begin to falter, wishing to recede back to the kitchen. “Let me just clean this up.”

Conquest takes the cake from your hands, impeding your efforts. The incense has been burning for a while now, curling in on itself as the flame descends lower and lower. “I’m supposed to blow it out, right?”

“Uhm… yeah and make a wish.”

“A wish?” He reiterates what you said to make sure he understood you. “Humans really will cling to anything, won’t they?”

“We’ll take hope wherever we can get it.” Your reasoning makes him ponder on things he’s never regarded, thinking long and thoroughly about his innermost desires. 

“Hmm…” After a couple moments, he takes a deep breath and practically blows the incense right off the cake, making the remainder of the stick tilt to its side where the ash is spilt on the floor. “Should I tell you what I wished for?”

“No!” You animatedly tell him. “If you do, then it won’t come true!”

He laughs, a deep resonance rattling his broad chest. “Well, this one, I’d like to see through.”

“I thought I made you upset.” You’re itching to clear the air, wanting to know more about why he reacted that way.

“Birthdays don’t make an appearance on Viltrum. The day we enter the world is a constant test on whether or not we’re even worthy to survive to the next one. When the young meet their age of adulthood, their forebears must test their might to ensure they’re allowed to receive their first assignment.”

“That’s terrible.” Your childhood wasn’t all sunshine and roses, but even you didn’t have it that hard.

“It’s just how things are.” He unfurls his hand and looks at the bracelet again, reminiscing on his younger years. “After living through a handful of millennia, you tend to forget about the past. Things like that just don’t matter.”

“I shouldn’t have reminded you.” You’re still broken at the notion of bringing sorrow to him on a day that should be joyous.

“I’m glad you reminded me.” He corrects you.

“You are?” Now you were not expecting this.

“Yes.” Conquest takes the bracelet and puts it in your hand instead. “It would do me well to think of where I’ve come, and where I may be going.”

“I’m coming with you right?” Your hopeful demeanor is a breath of fresh air when he once surrounded himself with perpetual doom and gloom.

“How’d you know what I wished for?”

“Stop it!” You slap his defined pectorals with a backhand, regretting it immediately as it feels like you just slapped a wall. “You’re not supposed to tell me!”

“I didn’t tell you.” Conquest clarifies smoothly. “You guessed. Now, are we going to see how this tastes or not?”

You present the pair of dining utensils, passing him one while you hold the other. You both dig right in, scooping a portion of cake with sweet glaze dripping off. You watch him eat it first, excitedly trying it for yourself when he starts chewing. Before you can even swallow the fluffy crumb and crunchy sugar sprinkles, he goes in for another forkful, eating bite after bite until half the tin is gone in no time.

“Good?” You ask, eyeing up his ballooning cheeks.

“You know, I was skeptical of getting this because I don’t usually indulge in cakes or pastries.” He finishes his bite, swallowing while letting the flavors evolve on his tongue. “But you have a way of changing my mind in ways others haven’t.”

“Everyone deserves to have something baked and covered in sugar for their birthday.” You take some of the icing and dab it on his nose, licking the rest off your fingertip before setting the cake on a nearby end table. “Even you.”

“I think I want my present now.” Conquest looks at you like you’re next on the menu, but you’re confused as the cake was his present.

“But I didn’t get you any-” You’re interrupted by his nimble tackle, putting you directly beneath him once more, giggling as he opens your robe like one pulls ribbon off a gift box.

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

Vincent drove the two and a half hours back to Atlantic City with the glare of the setting sun blinding his eyes, making him even more tired. When he arrives at Jimmy’s beach house, he’s not sure how he’s still awake. While exhausted, there’s still much to do.

He had placed a call to the home when he refueled a couple miles out, noticing Audette waiting for him with her suitcase at her side. Her somber features pull her face into a frown as she holds Richard’s hands in hers, kissing his knuckles and pressing his palms to her cheeks. They’re sharing such a beautiful moment and here Vincent comes to ruin it.

As his tires grind on the gravel and sand of the driveway, Jimmy practically hops out the screen door in anticipation of Vincent’s arrival. He approaches his driver side window before Vincent can even put the car in park. “Holy shit. You actually did it.”

“Haven’t you learned I keep my word by now?” Vincent yanks the key from the ignition and exits his car as Jimmy follows him to the other side. Vincent hands him a stack of two crates brimming with bank notes “Here, I’ll give Richard the other two.”

“This is far more than what I needed.” Jimmy is not one to turn down money, but it’s a difficult thought to gather when he was expecting hardly a fraction of this return on his investment.

“Use the rest to wallpaper your sunroom, I don’t care.” Vincent mindlessly snaps at Jimmy and Audette happens to hear the exchange.

“Is everything alright, Vincent?” Audette acknowledges his ill manner, putting him on the spot when Richard closes in for the crates to bring them inside.

“Yeah- sorry I just… It’s been a long day.” Vincent regains his composure, accidentally letting his true feelings show. 

“You could tell me to fuck off and I wouldn’t care right now.” Jimmy is overcome with joy in being given the means to solve virtually all his problems. “Thank you for this.”

Just as Jimmy and Richard step inside to set the goods down, Angela comes out to join them. “What have you got there?”

“A solution.” Jimmy kisses her on the top of her curls, moving past her and into the threshold to swiftly store the stacks. He and Richard come back out, dusting their hands off while Angela gives Audette a hug with Vincent leaning on his car, breathing his anxiety away with a cigarette.

“We’ll be thinking of you.” Angela tells Audette, teary eyed as she pulls away from their embrace. Since being together, Audette has been wearing her hair down more frequently, allowing her burgundy locks to flow in the wind. Angela twirls the ends of her hair in her fingertips, missing her own lengthy tresses.

“I’ll be back.” Audette had fun in the days she spent here despite what happened between them. “You know that.”

To keep from crying, Angela fights through her sniffles and calls Tommy from the house, imploring him to bid farewell. “Come tell our guest bye, Tommy!”

“Bye-Bye!” He waddles over, leaning into Audette’s legs in a darling cuddle before going back to his playing. Angela follows him inside, desperate for a handkerchief to dry her tears.

“Let me know how things go.” Jimmy shakes Vincent’s hand, holding it steady for a beat longer than usual while looking into his eyes. Vincent recognizes this, dropping the cigarette on the ground to snuff out with his shoe.

“Sure thing.” Vincent is glad to be rid of half that massive load, but he and Audette have a long road to travel. As he instinctively reaches for Audette’s luggage, Richard snatches it in his grasp, walking it to the open hatch of Vincent’s car. Audette shrugs at Vincent apologetically and he grins at her with Richard’s back turned. 

As he seals the hatch, Audette shows herself to the passenger seat where Richard then opens the door for her and shuts it once she’s sat comfortably. Vincent loads up as well with Jimmy watching them from the porch. As Vincent starts the car up again, Richard leans in close to Audette through the window. 

Richard has gotten more adventurous about his affection for her, promptly kissing her lips when she points her chin upwards with invitation. Richard has perfected utilizing only half his mouth, proceeding with the movement so naturally. “Don’t forget.”

“I won’t.” Audette whispers against his mask before Richard joins Jimmy on the porch. Vincent pulls away and Audette gives them a wave through the glass.

Once they resume their journey, Vincent asks, “What was that?”

“What?” Audette shrugs.

“That.” Vincent tilts his head, referencing what took place a couple seconds ago.

“Just something he told me.” Audette rolls her eyes, hoping he drops the subject. “Something private.”

“Oh.” Vincent deflates, focusing on the road. “You’re different.”

“No, I’m not.” Audette is astonished to hear him say this, getting defensive.

“Yes, you are.” Vincent’s mouth cracks into a smile, his deflated demeanor getting slightly revived when in her presence.

“You don’t know me.” Audette folds her arms and looks out the window.

“I know what I see.” Vincent ponders his own reasoning, thinking he’s got her pegged.

“Yeah well, looks can be deceiving.”

“Let’s start over.” Vincent sighs, sensing her mood turning sour. “How are you doing?”

“How am I doing?” Audette scoffs then pinches the bridge of her nose before telling him everything. “At the start of this week, I killed a man who thought he was closing in on Jimmy. His friends cleaned everything up but made everything awkward when Gillian came to drop Tommy off. Then, for the last little bit of time that I actually got to enjoy myself, I have to go back to hell.”

Vincent realizes that each one of those is a valid reason to be upset, especially when he is the cause of her dismay. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

Audette realizes she was far more hurtful than intended, heaving a breath and correcting herself. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“We’re both a little on edge.” Vincent doesn’t take offense to what she said, understanding where she’s coming from. “It’s okay.”

“It’s a nice day outside.” Audette adds while looking at the shoreline “Let’s enjoy it.”

The cab falls silent as they train their eyes on the Atlantic Ocean. The sea spray is clean and strong as it ripples through their hair. The drive goes smoothly for a short half hour until Audette’s aimless sightseeing becomes interrupted by a sudden pull of the vehicle.

She looks over at just the right time. Vincent’s posture is still the same but she makes the frightful observation that his eyes are closed. They’re traversing the latter half of a bridge over some of the more flooded outskirts when Audette startles him awake by calling his name at the same time she stops them from veering off the road with a rough jerk of the wheel. “Vincent!”

His eyes shoot open and she’s in his space. The view out the windshield points the nose of the car directly at the open waters. He reinforces his grip on the wheel, following Audette’s lead in aligning their course. Vincent is mortified as he manages to direct the tires so that they’re parallel with the railing, stopping for a minute to gather himself. 

“What the hell was that?!” Audette hollers at him, unrelenting and serious.

“Are you alright?” Vincent begins looking over Audette to assess if she’s been harmed in the chaos. “Did you get hurt?”

“Answer me!” Audette pushes him away. “You’re not fit to drive!”

Vincent settles in his seat, his shoulders slumping when the gravity of what could have happened hits him like a freight train. “You may have a point.”

“I know I do.” Audette is done with this stubbornness. It’s time she fought fire with fire. “Move.”

“You know how to drive?” Vincent asks as he steps out of the vehicle to walk around the other side while Audette climbs behind the wheel.

“My husband taught me.” She says, but then makes the connection she’s in the midst of a new engagement. “My first one.”

“Ah.” Vincent nods his head, giving the moment away to awkward silence that Audette is urged to fill.

“I’m taking us to the next town.” Audette starts, driving the key in to hear the engine chug to life. “You need sleep.”

“But Torrio-

“My father will still be there after you’ve had rest.” Audette commends him for running himself so ragged, never able to rid herself of the blame she feels for their situation. It’s in this sorry state that she can tell he really does care for her, willing to push until there’s nothing left of him just to keep Torrio happy. “Lay back. I’ll let you know when we’re there.”

Vincent lets himself be pardoned by her, giving into his exhaustion as it painstakingly chases him down. Within seconds of crossing his arms and closing his eyes, he’s out like a light. Audette’s focus is pulled from the road for a moment when she can detect a subtle snore coming from him. She’s glad to witness his slumber through this drive however long it may take, peaceful and calmed. He is afforded a little cat nap that feels more like a skip in time rather than a decent snooze. Audette attempts to rouse him, but he’s practically comatose.

“Hey.” Audette nudges him after pulling into the parking lot of the first hotel she happened upon. “You up?”

He’s still snoring, rolling over onto his shoulder to get more comfortable. Audette lets out a bemused exhale through her nose before going to nudge him again, harder this time. “Vincent.”

That doesn’t work either. She might need to take a different approach. After some careful thought, the both of them have had a reckless week. Being roused like this might stun him and with how their road trip started, she would like to avoid that if possible. She contemplates it for a moment, taking the step to run her fingers through his hair so that the gentle sensation awakens him.

As she combs against his skull, she feels a strange build-up gather under her fingernails. She ignores it for the first few strokes, but then she finds herself pulling her arm back to inspect her hand. Vincent groans at the time she conducts her inspection, rubbing the sleep from his eyes when he discovers the inn. Audette looks closer at the color of the dark grime that she accidentally collected, identifying a deep red tint to it and the faint scent of iron. 

She scoots in her seat, backing away to allow Vincent to wake up while feigning ignorance to her perturbing revelation. “I found a place.”

“When did we arrive?”

“Just now.”

“Here.” Vincent begins to search his pockets, looking for his wallet to hand to Audette. “Request the room at the end right here.”

“You don’t even know if it’s available.”

“It is.” He insists, placing the wallet in her possession as he departs to unload the crates and set them just outside the door to his preferred room. With precious cargo like this, he’s not about to trek it up three flights of stairs.

Audette walks to the check-in office with the weighty billfold in her hands. It struggles to crease the surplus of tender inside, dense with fortune. She reaches the desk after rehearsing what she’s going to request. “The room at the end of the ground floor, please.” 

“Sure thing, let me just see if it’s unoccupied…” The polite clerk initiates while flipping through her log book and Audette silently hopes that she’s right. “Ah! You’re in luck. How many nights?”

“Just the one.” Audette assures her. “We’ll be out well before sunrise.”

“That will be five dollars and eighty-two cents.” Her register chimes open just before she picks up her pencil and bends over her log. “Your name?”

“Audette Rh-” She pauses before saying the name associated with her last marriage. Death has departed her from Evan Rhys. The name no longer suits her, and her maiden name is not an option she’ll revive. She thinks on it, beckoning the clerk to lift her gaze to see what’s the hold up, then she tells her. “Audette Harrow.”

“Audette…Harrow.” The clerk marks it down in black and white, immortalizing her new identity. “And here’s your key. Enjoy your stay!”

Audette exits the office and she sees Vincent placing the last crate on top of the stack. She walks straight to the door and drives the key into the knob, and with one quick turn, she notices that there’s only one bed. Again. ‘Why does this keep happening?’

Vincent is more worried about getting all this money off the street instead of any type of sleeping situation, walking the crates into the room without delay. He sets them at the back, far away from the door between the bed and the wall. If one didn’t know better, they’d have no clue that this room harbors close to three quarters of a million dollars.

After doing all the heavy lifting, Vincent sits at the foot of the bed to catch his breath. Audette closes the door behind her and sets her own luggage down. He takes his hat off and loosens the first few buttons of his shirt, having worked up a sweat due to his frighteningly low energy. Audette gathers some toiletries and makes for the bathroom where she will prepare herself for bed. “I’m going to freshen up. You should probably shower too.”

“I will before we leave.” Vincent is massaging his temple, no doubt nursing a blooming headache from being awake for far too long. “I’d probably drown in there if I tried now.”

“Fair.” Audette smiles before entering her privacy. She thoughtfully removes her makeup, washes her face and ties her hair in a loose plait down her back to ensure it does not get unruly through the night. In this first moment of actual isolation since that fateful night with Horvitz, she looks at herself in the mirror, unable to hide from the judgement she feels grieving her own reflection. 

Is this what Richard feels? Is this what he tried to save her from? She understands the inner battle he spoke of; the demands of the moment and how if she did nothing then neither she nor Angela would be alive. While she was awaiting Vincent to come back from Baltimore, she and Richard had an important talk. 

‘Don’t forget.’ His words ring in her head and she repeats them to herself like a prayer. Her mind is pulled into the memory of them sitting on the beach. They both are given a chance to come clean about the things they’ve done this week, helping each other through the confusing tangle of moral ambiguity.

“Are you ever scared when… you know.” The ocean breeze flows between them as seagulls call above them mid flight.

“Always.” Richard nods in confirmation.

“How do you just do it?” Audette is aware he knows his way around this subject, hoping he will give her the answers she needs.

“How did you do it?” He answers her question with one of his own.

“Angela.” Audette is certain about her answer. “It was him or her.”

Richard tilts his head and slightly shrugs his shoulders, telling Audette that is reason enough. “You could have died too.”

“But I didn’t care.” Audette is strangely not bothered by this, doubling down on her rationale. “I had the tools to stop him at my disposal. Why wouldn’t I do something to save us?”

“Exactly.” Richard agrees and the befuddling pieces start to click.

“Then why do I still feel this way?” Audette drives her fingers into the sand, submerging herself to the wrists.

“I wish I could take it away from you.” Richard plucks one of her hands from the sand like unearthing a root so that he can hold her. “The feeling.”

“But it’s awful.” Audette feels a burning sensation at her waterline, blinking away the moisture before any tears could fall. “I don’t want you to have it.”

“I’ve had a lot more time with it.” Richard adds, as if that’s reason enough for him to suffer more torment. “You haven’t. It’s why I tried to protect you from this in the first place.”

“You and I both know that’s impossible.”

“I know.” Richard plays with a section of her hair, noticing how it’s slightly frizzy from being close to the water. “I still tried.”

“Look, we can’t change how things are.” Audette prepares to come to a compromise on this matter. “Just help me cope with it. Please?”

“I don’t think I’m the right person to give advice on that.” Richard’s reticence is not what Audette was hoping for.

“You’re all I have.” Audette pleads while lovingly clinging to him.

“You’re going to want to punish yourself.” Richard speaks from experience. “Don’t.”

“You still do.” Audette challenges “I see it.”

“We’re not talking about me.” Richard directs the conversation back to her. “What you did was a response to a threat, not a decision.”

“You compare yourself to a monster all the time, but you also react to survive.” 

“Only because I would rather myself carry the burden than someone else.” Richard pets her cheek with the pad of his thumb.  “Least of all, you.”

“And that’s the cost of your decision.” Audette acknowledges and Richard nods quietly. “Isn’t it?”

“There’s a reason my line of work led me to your father.” Richard “Had I known I would have ended up meeting you in the woods that day, I’d have never taken that money.”

“It still brought us together.” Audette, hopeful in her sentiments.

“If I had one thing to say about what you did, it’s to not lose time grieving someone who tried to end you.” Richard’s words ring true. Horvitz came to the house to do harm and it cost him his life.  “This will stay with you, but it doesn’t have to rule over you.”

“Then why do you let it rule over you?” Audette asks, wondering why he feels the need to flog his soul at every turn. “You’re not a bad person, Richard. You deserve peace over punishment just as much as me.”

“You’re my peace.” Richard declares, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear before kissing her forehead then her lips. “As long as I have you, I have all I need. Never forget that.”

Audette touches her fingertips to her pursed mouth, thinking fondly about Richard’s kiss they shared while repeating his words in the mirror. “Don’t forget. Don’t forget.”

Audette leaves the bathroom to find that Vincent has fallen victim to his fatigue for good this time. He’s lying flat on his back covering half of the only bed in the room. He must have stopped to rest his eyes and slipped clean into dreamland. He didn’t even take off his shoes and his hat is still resting beside him.

Audette lets out a displeased grumble but then laughs under her breath, remembering how hard he tried to pretend he was fine when she could see he clearly wasn’t. She takes his hat and places it on the nearby oak desk against the wall so that it doesn’t get creased. She then kneels down to unlace his shoes, sliding them off his feet. He’s snoring again, and she can’t have that if she’s meant to actually rest before seeing her family. She pulls back the surface comforter and duvet from the bed and takes one of the pillows, lifting the back of his head slowly to ease onto the cushion and the noise immediately ceases. 

Now, this room Vincent chose in particular is sparsely furnished with only chairs and stools, things of which Audette can’t possibly settle in. She collects her nightgown before climbing atop the portion of bed the pillows are situated at. She decidedly plucks the other pillow and sets it parallel to his, submerging into the covers where the textile barrier separates them. Audette turns out the light, bathing them in darkness at once and she falls asleep to Richard’s promise on her mind.

Vincent’s dreams are flooded with visions of falling rain, spilled crimson and deafening thunder. In the strobing flashes of light, he can see the people he’s forsaken. The ghosts that haunt him now hold his gun and Vincent is left staring down that barrel. Every breath he draws he can smell soaked woodchips, iron and mud. 

A final thunder clap resounds the same time the gun discharges. The very second Vincent sees it enter his face, he is stirred from his dreams. He’s drenched in sweat, patting his cheek in search of a bullet hole that’s not there. In the middle of his fraught examination, he spots Audette just beside him.

He freezes, steadying himself so that he doesn’t disturb her. It would appear that she’s battling demons of her own. She lets out periodic whines, her brow glistening with worry as she fidgets. Vincent is at a loss. Does he wake her from her affliction? Perhaps it’s better if he does nothing, yet his conscience will not rest.

He pulls the covers to tuck her in before resting his palm on her shoulder. She’s sleeping on her side with her back facing him. He begins passing his thumb back and forth, soothing her from beyond her dreams. In no time she’s calmed and Vincent is able to check the time.

He notices his shoes have been removed, thankful to her thoughtful step. Vincent quietly navigates the shrouded room to one of the crates where he stashed a clean set of clothes, a comb, a tin can of pomade and a toothbrush with an aluminum tube of toothpaste. 

Upon entry to the bathroom, he sees Audette’s toiletries taking up portions of the counterspace, moving them aside to set his down. He strips, turns the hot water on and steps inside. The shower is forgiving against his skin and he finds himself releasing the tension carried in every muscle, that is until he sees the blood.

The remnants of that poor boy’s brains that got strewn all over the cruiser are rinsed out of Vincent’s hair. He’s simultaneously horrified and disgusted by the filth that has been on him all these hours, just encrusted to his scalp. He begins to scrub furiously, scraping his hands through his hair with suds until the stream runs clear. 

By the time he exits, it’s only about three in the morning. He’s attentive in not making too much noise, dressing himself right down to his shoes. She’s still sleeping as he rounds up the crates beside the exit door. There’s no easy way to do this, so he might as well bite the bullet and make an attempt.

He figures the gentlest way is to disrupt the environment. Vincent goes for the lamp on the table and switches it on. Audette senses the shift and is roused. “Wh-what time is it?”

“Half-past three.” Vincent answers. “It’s about twelve hours from here to Chicago. The earlier we get on the road, the better.”

“At least I got more than five hours of sleep.” Audette yawns, heading to the bathroom where she will get dressed. Vincent uses the light of the room to load up the car, sitting in the driver’s seat as he waits for Audette. He watches her in his rear view mirror, her puffy eyes still laden with drowsiness. She’s untied her braid, letting her hair tumble down her back as she gathers her belongings. 

She pulls her coat over her arms and bends down for her suitcase, but Vincent jumps out of the car to load that up himself. “Go ahead and get in.”

She thanks him with a smile, heading for her seat by light of the cloud-covered moon. Vincent closes the door then gets behind the wheel. 

“Are you feeling better?” Audette asks in reference to the wild time they had the night before.

“Define better.” Vincent is vexed by heading back to Illinois, dreading the drive there.

“Rested then?” If this is going to be a long drive, Audette ensures they won’t be having any mishaps.

“Yes.” Vincent is short with his responses, embarrassment from his slip-up.

The drive goes off without a hitch, and they actually make good time. By noon they’re already pulling into the city limits of Lafayette, Indiana where Vincent makes a pit stop to refuel. Their stomachs are in knots knowing they’ll eventually cross over the state line. Audete speaks on the matter first. “What are you going to do when we get into town?”

“I’ll drop you off in Cicero. Tell Torrio how it went.”

“No, I’m coming with you. Don’t want him thinking I have anything to hide.”

“You sure?”

“I’m not afraid of him.” Audette steels herself, remembering to come off more abrasive when with her family. “Or Capone. He’ll be in a good mood when he sees the money. It’ll be fine.”

“If you say so.”

Audette is certain she can smell the club from down the street. She doesn’t miss coming here, almost regretting her decision. Vincent opens the door for her and she steps out, her hair plaited up and pinned like usual so that the foulness doesn’t stick to her as badly. He walks beside her as they climb the steps, but before he could reach for the handle of the door, Capone swings it open. 

“John.” Capone sneers at the pair, giving them space to enter while calling out to Torrio. “The lovebirds are here.”

“Where’s the dough?” Torrio comes through the woodwork already looking for the money.

“It’s in the back.” Vincent gestures to his car outside.

“You two.” Torrio addresses a couple of his lackeys, young boys no older than twenty. “Go bring ‘em in.”

“You look like shit.” Torrio pushes a glass towards Vincent and it slides on the wooden table’s surface before being filled with caramel brown whiskey. “Have a drink. I’ll even pour one for your missus.” 

An additional drink is offered to Audette, but she’ll not accept it. Vincent does of course. He’s actually grateful for one. As he downs his glass, the lackeys arrive with all four crates, stacking high on top of one another. Torrio walks over to inspect one with Capone eyeing his movements carefully to see if he’s pleased or not. Much to his dismay, Torrio just breaks into a giddy laugh. “Son, do you know how much scratch that is?”

“More’s being shipped over.” Vincent adds, setting his glass down and pouring himself another.

“Nah. Enough of the cheap shit.” Torrio puts the seal back on the crystal decanter. “Al, go behind the bar and get some champagne.”

“But I don’t like champagne.” Capone’s selfishness truly makes him oblivious.

“Then you don’t have to fucking drink any.” Torrio urges Capone as he closes in on Vincent. “It’s for Vincent and his bride to be!”

Vincent coughs on his drink and Audette is just as shocked as he is at what’s happening. Torrio cozies up to him like their history doesn’t matter, speaking directly to the pair. “I’ve been sitting on a really important decision that I told myself would be determined by how this trip of yours went.”

“You never told me about any decision.” Capone is hurt from being kept out of the loop, seething where he stands.

“Just shut up and pour, alright?” Torrio is impatient with Capone’s childish interruptions, ignoring him and getting back to Vincent. “Anyways, you two deserve the best and now this family has the means to provide that.”

“No…” Audette can already predict what he’s going to say, backing away from the table slowly.

“I’m moving up the wedding!” Torrio raises his glass of champagne as if everyone in the room is supposed to drop everything and cheer at the news.

Audette’s world closes in on her. Suddenly she can’t breathe. Vincent looks her dead in the face, horrified in her stead but unable to do a single thing about it as Torrio’s arm swings around his neck. She storms out of the establishment, the cool air hitting her face in a crisp fashion as she takes in lungful after lungful. It doesn’t help. Her knees begin knocking against themselves, shakily causing her gait to be unstable. She makes it to Vincent’s car, locking herself inside while the men finish talking. 

Vincent makes an attempt to break away and follow her, but Torrio stops him and picks up a bubbling flute, shoving it into his grasp. “Ah, let her go. She knew it was coming sooner or later. With you officially part of my circle, we can really get the ball rolling around here.”

“What are ya sayin’?” Capone isn’t happy either. In fact, he’s growing enraged. 

“I’m sayin’ that Vincent here’s gonna be my successor. This is a young man’s game and we all know I ain’t got it in me anymore.”

“I thought you were passin’ that honor to me.” Capone slams the champagne bottle on the table and causes the expensive drink to fizz and spill from its spout.

“C’mon. You think you can rake in this much cash in a week?” Torrio slaps him into reality with a single remark “Be realistic.”

“I was here first, wasn’t I?” Capone argues. “I been here through the thick of it all. Since the beginning!”

“You see what I have to deal with?” Torrio mocks him to Vincent as if he’s not even there, but Capone ends his train of thought by sweeping his arm across the table and sending everything crashing to the floor. “Hey! What the hell?!”

“I’ve been running the inn, have I not?” Capone adds more points to his justification. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked.”

“Look, I told ya this wasn’t an easy decision to make.” Torrio adds in his defense. “You haven’t exactly been helpin’ ya case as of late.”

“You fuck!” Capone lunches across the table and gets between Vincent and Torrio, almost shoving their elder to the ground. He manages to crash Vincent’s head into the table, but Vincent is quick in his strategic maneuvers when he reaches for his revolver holstered under his arm.

Capone prepares to throw an uppercut but halts the punch when Vincent points his gun at him. Capone’s hands raise to the ceiling as he backs away, Vincent’s nose leaking blood. He spits on the hardwood floor with his finger on the trigger. He was so hesitant to end a life before, but Capone? He’ll gladly put him in the ground.

Vincent extends his thumb and pulls the hammer, engaging his piece and even Torrio flinches when he hears that click. Torrio puts his hand over Vincent’s gun and he complies, lowering his arm to his side while putting the hammer back in place. “Boys, cut this shit out!”

“Fine. Fuck this.” Capone leaves in a similar fashion to Audette, albeit more violent and destructive. She sees him exit, ducking into her seat but he doesn’t even notice her, urgently climbing into his car with his tires screeching sharply as he speeds away.

“Seems like I made the right decision after all.” Torrio laughs once the craziness has ended, taking Capone’s outbursts for what they are all the while Vincent is exploding inside.

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

They hit the road before the sun could come up and Vincent couldn’t sleep a wink. The drive is silent and uncomfortable. It only takes an hour for them to make it from Philly back to Atlantic City. Lucky and Meyer are still there, greeting them as they smoke on Jimmy’s porch.

“Jeeze, ya look like hell.” Lucky announces when he offers Jimmy his hand to shake. Jimmy accepts, but only to yank him close enough to steal his cigarette. “Aye! Get your own!”

“I ran out.” Jimmy admits as he takes a long drag that burns through more than a third of the cigarette in one breath. “It’s not like you ain’t got twenty more in your pocket.”

“Still the same asshole, I see.” Lucky shakes his head at Meyer as he retrieves another, lighting it up with distaste. “What crawled up your ass?”

“Not now, Lucky. Please.” Jimmy cuts off the pestering small talk, moving onto his next order of business. “Where’s Ange?”

“She and Audette are watching the little tike on the beach out back.” Meyer speaks up as Richard and Vincent follow behind them.

“Go get ‘em, wouldya?” Jimmy presents the task to Meyer but he appears to be offended he would even suggest it. 

“I ain’t your butler.” Meyer talks back, standing his ground.

“Look, I just need to tell her I’ll be going with Vincent again and I’ll be back later.”

“No you’re not.” Vincent denies Jimmy’s plan, imposing his own.

“The hell I am.” Jimmy’s posture shifts to a similar one he showcased yesterday when they put those men to death. “I want my fucking money.”

“And you’ll get it. Every cent.” Vincent doesn’t shy from this display, fortifying himself in Jimmy’s presence. “I can’t take you to Baltimore though.”

“If you back out on our deal-

“I won’t.” Vincent eases Jimmy’s trepidation. “I’m leaving Audette here until I return. I can’t go back to Chicago without her.”

Jimmy studies him closely, scrunching his nose when he catches a whiff of that decomposing digit in his pocket. “Fine. Lemme get you a sack for that pointer. It reeks somethin’ fierce.”

As Jimmy departs, Lucky rides his heels partway to the kitchen, stopping him with an arm on his shoulder. “So I take it you won’t be needin’ our services anymore?”

Jimmy watches as Lucky motions to himself and his partner, awaiting his response. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Then you better plan on making good on your promise, capisce?” 

Jimmy eyes Lucky up and down, shaking his shoulder to release the hold he has on him. “Are you threatening me, Lucky?”

“What? Who’s threatening?” Lucky backs off, complying with Jimmy’s request for space while not letting up on his demands. “I’m just, ya know, making sure you don’t forget what we did for ya.”

“Is that right?” Jimmy scoffs, continuing to the kitchen for that bag for Vincent. “Munya rubbed off on you.”

“You owe us.” Lucky gives Jimmy a slight shove with his shoulder before waving at Meyer to join him in leaving the home.

“Until next time, gentlemen.” Meyer tips his hat at Vincent and Richard as they stand, waiting for Jimmy to return with something to seal the finger in.

Just as they leave, Tommy runs into the house with Angela and Audette racing in after him. “I need more ribbons for my kite!”

Jimmy is right in the middle of handing over a slightly crumpled paper sack with a waxy lamination on the inside meant to be used to preserve rather fragrant cheese in the market. Vincent passes the decaying digit into the sack, turning away so that the child is spared from the gruesome images. As Vincent replaces it back into his pocket, Jimmy looks to his child in hopes to relieve some suspicion in their actions, but Angela can already sense something.

“I didn’t know you were back yet.” Angela tries to chorale her excited child, though it would seem he’s far too distracted to even greet his father. “When did your friends leave?”

“Just now. We haven’t been here long.” While Jimmy explains, Audette bypasses the welcome party and heads straight for Richard.

“Oh, thank God you’re here.” She embraces him, pulling him down so their foreheads meet. She sighs deeply, inhaling the staleness of his clothes and the exhaustion worn on his sleeves. “Are you tired? Have you eaten?”

“I-I’m fine.” Richard responds softly, embarrassed a bit that she’s poring over him so diligently. Vincent watches how she immediately went in his direction. He stands there with no one to cradle his face or kiss his cheek. His heart aches, dying for a love like theirs.

In the midst of his self-lamenting, he feels a gentle touch on his own shoulder. It is Audette. She’s speaking to him, but he cannot hear the words, far too blindsided by her sudden interaction. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” 

“I asked you if you’d like some leftover roast Angela and I made last night.” Her voice snaps him clear out of his daze, but the clock is ticking and he best be leaving soon.

“I can’t.” He confesses, wishing he could taste even a bite of anything she’s created with her own hands. “I have to make one more trip before we go back home.”

“Where are you going?” She inquires, worried he's having to leave again so soon.

“Baltimore.” Vincent fidgets slightly when put on the spot, already heading for the door.

“Let me at least give you some to take with you.” Audette crosses over to the kitchen where the pot is simmering on the stove as they were preparing it for lunch. “You look like you haven’t had a good meal in a while.”

‘Not since our date', Vincent daringly thinks to himself. He would be foolish to blurt something so insensitive in their home, swallowing hard in his throat as he watches Audette ladle braised beef and vegetables over a bed of creamed potatoes. It looks mouthwateringly decadent, billowing steam filling the space with its gloriously hearty scent. She seals up the food in a steel rectangular thermos. The lid is a classic red with white lattice pattern that Vincent presumes matches the accompanying picnic blanket. “You didn’t have to do that. Thank you.”

Audette and Angela do well in playing their feelings off in front of Tommy. If he weren’t here, the girls would certainly collapse into the arms of their lover, but they must remain strong for him. Audette wraps the thermos in a cozy striped cloth alongside a glass bottle of apple juice. She passes the parcel over to Vincent and he takes it eagerly. “Of course. We’re probably going to eat the rest of it. I couldn’t forgive myself if you didn’t get to have any.”

“Ah, fuel for my drive.” Vincent gives her a nod before starting towards the door. “I should be going. Thank you.”

“You’re not tired from coming all this way?” Angela asks, concerned.

“I am, but the road and I have always been greatly acquainted.” Vincent can feel the heaviness in his eyelids, hoping this food gives him the boost he needs to make it to Baltimore. “I’ll give Jimmy a call in a few hours when I’m heading back for Audette.”

“Aw! Does she have to go today?” Tommy expresses his disfavor for this news, saddened by the imminent absence of his new friend.

“Don’t worry, she’ll be back.” Angela looks between Tommy and Audette with hope in her eyes. “Right?”

“I have to.” Audette smiles at Tommy, lightly pinching his cheek. “How else are we going to build the greatest fleet of kites known to mankind?”

“Oh! I still need ribbon!” Tommy bolts to another room to conduct his search, leaving the adults to say their farewells.

Vincent turns his back on the group with the food still in his clutches when that blessed palm lays itself across his back just before he could make his exit. He turns his head to look over his shoulder, seeing Audette stop him short of this exit. She peers at him with those angelic hazel eyes of hers, gracing him with her attention. “Drive carefully.”

Vincent can’t resist reading into her words far deeper than their meaning, shaking loose the hypnosis and mustering an answer. “I will.”

He makes his way to the car, setting the food on the passenger seat and pulling away from the beach home to get on the interstate. For the first hour, he was far too focused on replaying that moment in his head to think of anything else. It’s a straight shot from Jersey to Maryland if he stays on the 95. 

He reaches a rest stop just outside of Newark where the last few cities end and the east coast forests begin. As Vincent returns from stretching his legs, the parcel sitting in his passenger seat catches his eye. His stomach sinks at first when he is reminded of her tender love and care she put into wrapping that up for him.  Until now, he’s had a steady diet of hard liquor and cigarettes. That sinking feeling shifts quickly to starving hunger as his core contorts with the deprived absence of nourishment.

He climbs into his car to shield himself from the cold winds, taking the parcel and resting it on his lap before untying the knot at the top. The glass bottle of juice looks to be an upcycled baby bottle, sans the rubber nipple. He smiles at it, knowing it used to be Tommy’s. He unscrews the lid and sips the juice, coughing slightly when the sensation of cool liquid traverses his insides. He truly has been running on fumes.

Replacing the lid on the juice, he sets it aside to focus on the still-warm thermos. He pops open the lid, filling his cab with the aroma of carrots and onions. The steam warms his features from the frosty outdoors, and he holds the bowl beneath his face to simulate a concentrated sauna.

Using the spoon Audette packed, he scoops a little of the beef and veggies off the mound of potatoes and brings it to his mouth. The flavors are so welcoming and savory. It almost reminds him of something he ate when he was younger. A cold day like this, being served something indulgent and substantial to replenish his energy. After that first bite, he practically inhales the meal, taking swigs of apple juice to wash it down in between. His belly is full and his senses have been revived. He’s ready to face Aiuppa.

Vincent arrives at the address his uncle gave him, pulling into the lot to see him already outside. Vincent parks his car and approaches the curb where his uncle stands jovially with a fat cigar in one hand. “Do you like it?”

“Like what?” Vincent isn’t sure what he means.

“My new casino!” Aiuppa answers, waving his hands at the towering building in front of them. “I bought it just this morning.”

“Oh.” Vincent cares not for this sort of pastime, so he only speaks on its appearance. “Looks new.”

“It is. Construction finished a couple weeks ago.” Aiuppa turns to gawk at his newest baby added to his collection. A blinking sign that reads The Meridian shines bright even in the middle of the day. “I’ve had my eye on this one for a long time. Doors aren’t even open yet.”

“Another golden goose for your flock, huh.” Vincent wishes him well, but he has no desire for the sport himself, offering the sack into his uncle’s possession. “Here. Proof as requested.”

Aiuppa squeezes the sack and feels the stiff rigor of the finger. He chuckles under his breath as he opens it, tilting the digit so that he can see the emblem on its finger. He seals it back up, retching a bit when he detects the scent of death. “I know I told you to do this, but it’s caused quite the commotion.”

“Well, that’s what happens when you order a hit on someone in the limelight.” Vincent speaks on his own behalf. “You knew this was coming. It’s yours to handle.” 

“I’m not denying that you’re right, I’m just surprised you’ve got the fuzz so confused.” Aiuppa puts the finger in his back pocket so that he can have his hands free to relight his cigar. “What did you do with him anyway?”

“The less you know, the better.” Vincent does not feel like divulging those details, especially to someone who could hold it over his head.

“What, little Vinny gets one kill under his belt and he thinks he’s a hard ass?”

“Two.”

“Wow. I underestimated you.” Aiuppa puffs on his cigar and the cherry goes from nearly out to glowing bright. “Come around back and I’ll give you your money. I already have my boys making arrangements for the rest to be sent directly to the Deuces.”

As Vincent begins walking beside Aiuppa, he stops him short. “Uh, bring your car.”

He was thinking a suitcase or two, but something tells Vincent that there will be far more than he expected. He does what he’s told, igniting the engine to his car and meeting his uncle around the rear of the building where they receive their orders of booze and other amenities. To his surprise, he’s gathered a four by four square foot area of crates full to the brim with cash. Eight crates containing hundreds of thousands of dollars are loaded by a couple of his underpaid workers into Vincent’s back hatch and cab.

“You made all this just with that first round of booze?” Vincent is amazed that there’s much more than this on the way to Chicago.

“The people are dying of thirst out here.” Aiuppa laughs at his own observation, amused by his taking advantage. “Why else do you think I bought this place?”

This operation is growing faster than he thought. This is the exact outlet Torrio was fiending for, but Vincent must find a way to eliminate Capone from ruining it. Maybe when he comes back with all the dough, he will realize his protege is more of a liability than a partner.

“You all set?” Aiuppa asks Vincent as he talks through his open window.

“Yeah, I don’t think they’re going anywhere.” Vincent says, examining the way they’re stacked behind him.

“Better not.” Aiuppa raises his brow at him before tapping the roof of Vincent’s car. “Say hello to Torrio for me!”

Vincent gives Aiuppa a wave and heads right out of there back onto the interstate. If he drives steadily enough, he can make it back to Jimmy’s before the sun goes down.

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

“Do you think she’s okay?” Omega asks Hunter, concerned about her friend she met in town.

“We’ll find her.” Hunter refuses to answer, deciding not to lie as he leads the way through thick brush and forest quietly. 

“That’s not what I asked.” Omega reiterates and Hunter sighs, giving her a knowing look before hailing his brothers. “Any sight of her, come in?”

“We’ve spotted some footprints of the correct size southeast from your location, over.” Tech responds on the other line.

“On my way. Keep this line clear. Out.” Hunter secures the comm device in his stores and puts his focus back on Omega. “You’re worried about her, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am.” Omega scans the area, keeping up well with Hunter as the sun dips lower in the sky. “Rila and I were supposed to go to the stream this morning after breakfast. She’s been gone all day…”

Her worry is worn on her face, unable to conceal. Hunter cannot help but feel responsible for this mishap. He tells himself he should have gone with her, but she insisted she was old enough to go on her own.. Sometimes he thinks she might be embarrassed to have him hovering over her day in and day out, but it is a compulsion he will never abandon if it means she will be safe. He loathes the fact that he’s grateful a local girl was taken instead of Omega. What kind of man does that make him?

“Look. Up ahead. They’re here.” Hunter announces the presence of his brothers, all resourcefully on the prowl.

Hunter spots Wrecker kneeling down as he fills his canteen, the surge of water causing it to glug. “Phew! We’ve been out here so long, I ran out of water hours ago.”

“Good idea.” Tech acknowledges. “Everyone, replenish your receptacles.”

Echo and Crosshair join Tech on either side with Hunter, each dunking their canteens into the freshwater pond as its sparkling flow appears to be delectably quenching to the eye. Everyone samples large swigs, breathing deeply when they’ve had their fill. Hunter motions to Omega, wondering why she’s not doing the same. “Aren’t you thirsty?”

“I’m too focused on Rila to think about anything like that.” Omega defiantly admits, clinging to the nearest willow tree swaying in the breeze as she looks for her prints.

“Fine.” Hunter doesn’t care for Omega’s attitude, but he’ll not let her neglect important survival necessities. Though, as Hunter goes to dip the canteen just as he had done moments prior, the hand he’s using to reach out has sprouted with ashen fuzz protruding from beneath his armor. He must be seeing things, because he attempts to glance at his rippling reflection only to see that his prominent nose has been shortened to a glistening, wet snout and he’s grown long antennae-like whiskers from his brow line. His once long hair has morphed into a fluffy mane that extends about his entire neck, spreading down his form. 

Through random plumes of smoke, Hunter’s bodily proportions become mixed and he begins to shrink. Within seconds, all who sampled the water from their canteens are transformed into a little herd of voorpaks. They congregate at Omega’s ankles, attached to her for she is the only fortifiable image standing in the area. She’s petrified at their sudden transformation, yipping loudly and hopping around like they’ve only just learned they have tails to wag and legs to jump.

“No!” Omega tries to see any identifying shred of them in the pups, noticing their tattoos and scars appear as markings in their fur. “Oh no, what did you do!?”

She notices their canteens discarded on the ground, the remnants of the water leaking out. She scrambles to turn each one upside down, emptying their contents back into the pond when an unfamiliar rustling sounds off behind her that isn’t coming from the pups. “Omega?”

Omega is startled, drawing her bow on the unnamed threat in her midst but immediately lowering it when she recognizes the face of her company.

“Rila!” She yells her name, running to her arms where they both console each other after being apart far longer than intended. “Where have you been!? You’ve got the whole town terrified!”

“Omega, something amazing happened!” Rila starts, caring not for the commotion caused in her name. “You know that ‘magic trick’ I showed you a while back?”

“Oh, come on. I know it wasn’t magic!” Omega clears the air, letting it be known what she’s seen in her travels.

“Exactly! I found someone. She’s a teacher, and she’s going to-

“A teacher? School is the least of our problems! If you come with me, we can get you back to your parents and find a way to help my brothers!” Omega addresses the inconceivable event she just witnessed, cutting Rila off mid sentence.

“The teacher did it.” Rila admits with an unnervingly wide smile on her face. “Isn’t she amazing?”

“Rila! Come on, you can’t be serious? What’s gotten into you?” Omega is scared for her friend but still investigates what could be making her act this way. It has to be brainwashing, right?

“It’s true.” You walk through the shrubs and fallen trees to meet the girls, corroborating Rila’s testimony. “This is my doing, but fear not for they are unharmed.”

“Change them back!” Omega raises her voice at you, but you don’t flinch, having expected a reaction such as this.

“Omega, please.” Rila does her best to calm her with a careful hand on her shoulder, but Omega isn’t so trusting.

“I will.” You promise. “But not without investigating the nature of your visit.”

“The nature of my-” Omega stops to breathe, taking a pause before letting herself lash out again. “These are my brothers. We were all conducting a search party for Rila. Her parents are worried about her.”

“It is not her parents that concern me.” You direct your attention to Rila, giving her the floor. “Do you wish to return home to your mother and father?”

“No!” Rila admits aloud, shocking Omega with her answer. She can’t bear to think of a world without her brothers looking out for her and is disheartened to know that Rila does not bear the same familial sentiments. “They want to give me away to some faraway school for other kids with issues like me.”

“Your abilities are not the issue, child.” Your influence meets Rila’s ears, calming her.  “Their refusal to accept the impossible is.”

Omega begins investigating Rila’s life. She practically lives off the wilderness now that Omega has thought about it. She is always able to play from the minute the sun comes up to the second it falls and one of her brothers calls her inside. Omega had no idea the history Rila had with her parents when she decided to report her missing. She thought they surely would have wanted to know her whereabouts too.

“Rila, I’m sorry. I had no idea…” Omega apologetically takes the hand of her friend in hers.

“Do you trust me?” Rila asks, squeezing Omega’s palm.

With a singular nod from Omega, Rila leads her to the nearby den enclosed by a dense vineyard. As they walk, she searches the lively voorpak pups bouncing about for a look of confirmation but they remain aimless and docile, following their every step. You take point, moving the vines out of the way with a flick of your wrist and Omega cannot deny being impressed. You walk so smoothly, practically floating on your steps in front of the girls. You look so enchanting to Omega and she understands how you’ve come to know and protect so many children from harm.

As you all enter the enclosure, she notices lots more pups yipping and scurrying about, but also many children. They look well fed, healthy and clean. You’ve accommodated practically every need of theirs, and the ones you haven’t managed yet, you have them in swift progress. Everyone is in good spirits as Omega gets to see how harmoniously they live.

Little groups here and there are all participating in their own activities. Some are training with swords carved from wood. Others are making food for each other out of foraged berries and fire-roasted meats. There are a few pruning gardens that naturally sprout within the enclosure. Then Omega spots a child using his powers for something completely mundane.

He dexterously lifts a pitcher and fills many cups at once without spilling a drop, each of his friends as well as himself taking their own serving of juice and enjoying it. Another child showcases his abilities to float a piece of garbage into a trash receptacle while another guides berries into his own mouth.

Just as Omega begins to think everyone is using their powers to commit cheap tricks, she sees one of the children only a couple years older than her repairing the exterior hull of a starship with no trouble at all. He’s capable of holding the parts and machinery up with ease alongside a couple other peers assisting him on where to place it. A nearby group happens to be shuffling some stripped and refined timber to improve the dwellings of their homes, raising them high above their heads to fix a set of beams that will eventually be a roof. Omega is amazed at the ingenuity of these children who are nowhere near as old as she.

“You all did this yourselves?” Omega is stunned by the world she’s walked into. It’s like a dream come true. 

“This planet is very forgiving.” Rila is humble in her answer. “She only gives us guidance. She lets us all do things how we please.”

They keep going a little ways until they reach a modest tent with a table and small firepit. Rila gestures to a log stool for Omega to join you beneath the comfort of your roof. “Please, sit.”

“So.” You add, waiting for Omega’s input.

“So.” Omega mimics you, unsure how to start.

“You say your brothers here aren’t looking to shut down our little sanctuary after all, yes?”

“That’s right.” Omega confirms, picking up one of the pups that bears the skeletal markings on the side of his face that she knows for certain is Hunter. He rests in her grasp, chittering purrs broadcasting his favor and attachment to her for all to see. She pets him softly and he settles on her lap. “We’re not bounty hunters. We’re on the run from the Empire too, and if anyone can be trusted to keep your sanctuary a secret, it’s them.”

“And you believe this with all your heart?” You ask despite seeing the certainty in her eyes.

“With all my heart.” Omega’s response is true, and you smile at her knowing every word is genuine.

“I will help you if you have no problem helping me.” You bargain with her, but you make a pact in your mind that you would keep your promise regardless.

“Please. Anything. Just change them back...” She begins to sniffle and lament, worried they’ll be stuck like this forever.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you, child.” You wipe the singular tear that falls down the crest of Omega’s cheek as the voorpak on her lap presses his snout against the other. “Forgive me, for I have a habit of detaining anyone in uniform snooping about my sanctuary. You understand.”

Omega nods, offering a meek smile through her tears. “I do.”

“Then let’s put things right, shall we?” You straighten your posture, standing up and taking a deep breath. Rila pulls Omega aside to give you some room as you begin to gently sway your arms in the air. The smoke that once appeared during their unexpected shift fogs the tent from the inside. Omega cannot make anything out as her vision is obstructed by the dense clouds, but the chitters and yelps emitting from the voorpak pups dissipate into the grunts and groans she’s all too familiar with.

Thankfully, they have no memory of what happened nor how they ended up here. You are truthful and apologetic for their delirium as they regain their bearings. 

“My head hurts…” Wrecker complains when he comes out of his transformed state.

“Where are we?” Echo asks, looking suspiciously at you.

“Omega!” Hunter exclaims while rushing to her side. “How did you find your friend?”

“Who are you?” Crosshair bluntly inquires about you when he doesn’t recognize your face. 

“Do either of you know this person?” Tech prompts the question to Omega and Rila and they both vouch for you.

“She’s with us.” Omega stands at Rila’s side as they both protectively safeguard you from any confusion their brothers may act upon. “She helped find Rila.”

“It’s true.” Rila stands firm but they ask more questions.

“Why don’t we remember this?” Tech isn’t so easily convinced, so you step in and clear the air.

“Your little sister here is quite the detective.” The boys glance between you and Omega. She smiles at the compliment as you continue. “And here I thought I was so good at keeping this cove secluded.”

“Wait, you are the reason for the people going missing around here?” Echo clarifies with a look of shock on his face.

“Guilty as charged.” You shrug, flicking your wrist like you did before to move the curtain of vines revealing the hospitable environment just beyond the veil. Wrecker is the first to peer outside, gasping at the sight of such an amicable community. His brothers gawk in the same fashion Omega had just done, likewise wondering about the many swarms of voorpaks making themselves at home under your green roof.

“And the uh, pups?” Echo astutely asks as he watches them bounce and tackle each other by the jovial light of flickering lanterns.

“Well those are the uhm… undesirables.” Omega explains. “Any officials that come snooping around get turned into them.”

They all begin to give you a wide berth, keeping their distance in fear of suffering that fate again, but you chuckle, assuring them that fate is no longer in their future. “Please, I’m not going to do it again. I have taken Omega at her word, haven’t I?”

“We’re all friends here, okay?” Rila adds, giving Omega’s brothers a smile and nod.

“She has.” Omega comes to your aid once more with Rila butting in as well. “Besides, she can help us with our Cid problem.”

“Omega, no.” Hunter retains his caution, but Omega is very convincing.

“Just listen!” Omega is unyielding in her desires and willing to be heard at any cost. “The officials she’s transformed have rewards for their return. We can help her get them out of here and solve our financial problem while saving all these kids.”

“They won’t remember a thing?” Hunter double checks Omega’s claims, ensuring they will be protected from whatever ties these snooping subjects have.

“Not a single one.” You pledge with your hand over your heart.

Hunter turns to his brothers. “What do you guys think?”

“It’s not like anyone would believe them even if someone talked.” Echo recognizes the absurdity of these events.

“Money is money and we need it.” Crosshair is on board.

Wrecker is getting his nose licked by one of the many voorpaks, petting it by the scruff of its chin. “They’re cute! I don’t mind getting them where they ought to be.”

“Considering the sizable debt we’ve accrued, just half of these subjects would be enough to wipe it off the board.” Tech calculates the numbers in his head, rising and rising with no end.

“You have to realize, you can’t stay here forever right?” Hunter is cautious in addressing this. “People in town will begin to grow suspicious.”

“Do you think we could get everyone to Yavin?” Omega suggests the only other planet-wide sanctuary that closely mirrors the home you’ve created for those targeted by society.

“Did you say Yavin?” You have been dying to make it there, but with how quickly this spot had grown, you lost hope in getting everyone there in one piece.

“We have a ship.” Echo declares, no longer on the fence about you. “We can get you and everyone you’ve saved to the cell located there.”

“You would offer your transport and protection to us?” You cannot believe this is happening. Your regret for changing them into animals is brimming within you, but it would seem they’ve already forgiven you.

“You’ve been a savior to so many.” Omega is pleased with the words coming from Hunter. She beams at him as he offers his own olive branch. “It would do us well to join forces.”

“Imagine accomplishing this but on a greater scale.” Tech doesn’t hide how astounding it is to be able to do right by even more people.

“Think about it!” Wrecker exclaims when he sees the plans cooking before him. We could be rounding up people from all over the galaxy!”

“And we just have to deal with these fleabags, huh?” Crosshair shakes one of the pups off his leg from where it was chewing his armor.

“Oh, c’mon Crosshair.” Omega tries to win him over by scooping the pup into her arms to let it lick their faces. “That just means they like you!”

You offer your hand forward to shake, taking the oath before them with the sake of bringing more innocents fleeing the Empire to their permanent home. Hunter takes it, gripping your forearm down to the elbow as you do the same. Omega and Rila giggle when the pup laps at their faces, sensing the jovial energy from you making the agreement. “It is done then. We work together.”

“I think dinner’s almost ready!” Rila tugs on Omega and they both skip out of the tent, curious to see what’s cooking. 

“Shall we?” You motion to the vines, opening them with your phantom touch and beckoning them to join the merriment. Wrecker is the first to exit at the notion of food, followed by Echo and Tech side by side, Crosshair looking on inquisitively with Hunter filing out last, watching his family get welcomed in the haven you’ve assembled.

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