Freedom or Death

ils… n’avaient pas l’air bien.

l’œil de millicent a tressailli. donnez-lui quelques secondes, et tout son visage se crispait. MAIS mais mais… elle s’est maîtrisée — restez immobile, mon cœur battant — et a incliné la tête. à l’intérieur, deux émotions concurrentes : la première était, bien sûr, le désir. pas hors de l'ordinaire. chaque jour, millicent voulait. mais ce n’était pas tous les jours qu’elle rencontrait serik. même maintenant, ses pouces tremblaient. SON NOM, l’énergie qui coulait dans ses mains, un mouvement d’affection et une promesse (des promesses, à l’époque, signifiaient quelque chose qui comptait) de rester ensemble pour toujours. elle connaissait maintenant le vrai sens d’une 'promesse', et elle connaissait aussi l’origine de SERIK. donc il venait du kazakhstan ? d'où venaient ces créatures ?

les émotions de serik étaient répandues en lui et surtout concentrées sur certaines parties de son corps. ses paroles, sa colère — il s’y accrochait. et peut-être que c’était aussi le cas avec millicent.

« je ne pense pas avoir dit de le détruire. DÉTRUISEZ-VOUS, peut-être. »

la deuxième émotion de millicent concurrente ? RAGE. ou douleur. ou émerveillement. ou les trois mélangés. pourquoi m’as-tu laissée ?, elle aspirait à accuser (il ne lui devait rien). je n’étais pas spéciale ? il avait pris le temps de jouer avec elle, non ? il passerait parfaitement de deux formes D'AMI : l’homme et l’oiseau.

Il se tourna à nouveau vers les animaux empaillés, toujours avec cette expression pleine d'incertitude et de colère, le tout empreint de chagrin. "Enfin, j'suppose que c'est un peu d'ma faute... C'est juste que... Je sais pas... C'est bien, les musées et tout, faut bien garder une trace, mais..."

Il grimaça. "C'est un peu un manque de respect, non? Merde, quoi, ils ont rien demandé, et les voilà là, mis en scène comme des bêtes de foires... Comme s'ils ont jamais été vivants. Comme des putains d'objets! Vous voudriez ça vous!? Etre à leur place?!" Il soupira.

"Désolé, c'est juste que... ça m'met en rogne. Mais j'peux pas changer l'monde, hein?" Un petit rire vide d'humour, et il secoua la tête à nouveau.

"Sans maison, hein? Si je brûlais le musée, toutes ces créatures seraient 'sans maison', c'est ça?" Un autre rire, beaucoup plus ironique et narquois, cette fois. "Elles sont mortes! Elles sont putain de mortes. Elles en ont rien à foutre d'avoir une putain de maison ou pas! Si ça s'trouve ça leur apporterait même la paix de disparaître avec le musée dans un putain d'incendie."

“Here’s the first thing you need to know about this place.” The elevator thrummed as they went down, down, down to the lower parts of the Nautilus. “Don’t ask questions. The eggheads get all testy if you start getting into their business.”

Serik came highly recommended. His skills in mechanics and engineering were second to none, and when the United States government showed up at your doorstep and offered you a job, you didn’t really get the chance to say no.

The man that had ferried in a small submarine and into the Nautilus facility was named Barker. He was a tall man in his 50s with salt and pepper hair and a resting bitch face, and spoke with a tone of authority. Said he was not only a skilled sub pilot, but head of security too. That was another thing—the Nautilus (and vaguely mentioned in passing Project Cetus) were top secret. To disclose information to outside parties, no matter how minor, was a breach of national security.

The repercussions would be brutal.

Barker showed him to his quarters; a small bunk with a desk and a porthole to the dark ocean outside. Then the common rooms, the cafeteria, the loos and so on so forth. Safety procedures were gone over, all that good stuff about pressure and oxygen. And it was again reiterated to stay out of the scientists way.

Obviously, he wasn’t shown the labs. Those were off limits to those with so little clearance.

The first order of business for his new job was to fix a pipe that was leaking in what was dubbed an observation room. Within it were four massive glass tanks of water, all connected to the walls by massive piping. In the center of the room was a huge pool of water.

About a half hour into the job came the tapping.

Tap-tap-tap-tap.

He honestly felt like a mouse getting trapped. Like maybe this was actually disguised imprisonment or community service or something.

But no matter his hangs-up, one did not refuse the fucking US government when they came to get you for a job.

Not to their face at least.

He managed to hold his tongue for most of the visit... But he had questions. So many questions, and he expected none of these would find an answer from this Barker man -- name fit alright.

So he kept them to himself, for now. But he sure as hell wanted to figure out what the hell was going one here. Why did the goddamn government need an underwater facility like this? With off-limit labs, nonetheless. What was that Project Cetus?

Good thing he was fucking nosy, because before he found a way out of here, he sure wanted to learn all he could about the shady dealings going on here.

But for now, he had a job to do... Fixing a pipe. Joy. Surely they needed the 'best of the best' for that kind of job. Seriously. What a fucking joke.

He sighed and set down his tool box, sorting through his tools to get started. It shouldn't be too hard.

"Ugh, fuck them. Fuck the government," he grumbled to himself as he struggled with removing a piece of pipe that was resisting him. "Fuck everythin'-- Agh-"

The pipe finally gave, and Serik fell backwards with it. "Fuck-"

But then something caught his ear.

Tapping.

Sounds like that weren't so strange in a place like this, honestly. It was probably the entire installation settling with some change of pressure or temperature of the water outside... but...

He definitely recognised a pattern.

He listened for a moment, trying to decipher the code -- that was definitely morse code -- but he needed some paper to do that properly, so he gave up after a moment, instead approaching the pool in the middle of the room as his curiosity got the better of him. Placing the sound was hard, it all resonated too much in this place.

But...

Bayu had already shuttled towards his jumpsuit hanging on a wall hook by his workbench, while Serik was dumbstruck by everything that was happening. He flew into it, zipped up, and slapped his tool belt on himself, whistling at Serik to hurry his half-naked ass up.

"Do I look like a fucking car," he said matter-of-factly, almost bored by Serik's stupid question as he stood by a sink, washing off drying blood from the side of his face and neck. "And did you think I went through all the hassle of hiding out here just so everyone in this two hundred storey megabuilding would know I can shapeshift? I'm not fucking turning just so you can fulfil your god damn princess fantasy. Hurry the fuck up, we don't have time for this."

Snippy, rude, and still considerably irked by whatever Serik had done to him, Bayu had very little patience for any of Serik's clever ideas. Still, he reached for a tool from his gun rack, with a grappling hook protruding out of its muzzle, storming out of the house.

"Double time!" he shouted for Serik, an arm open despite his initial outburst on the idea of letting Serik hang on to him. To his side, the grappling hook was firmly tied around an anchor which was drilled into the solid concrete wall of the walkway -- it was not the first time he'd rappelled down this way, with or without the assistance of a rope.

He didn't really succeed.

He quickly looked away, covering his mouth with the back of his hand to try and salvage-- well, anything.

He had a feeling Bayu was this close to just punching him in the face if he kept on trying him. But shit, he wasn't even trying... He knew the situation was dire, but imagining him as a fucking car was just too funny in contrast to the mess they were in.

"Sorry-- you just- You said you'd jump down so I thought--" But then he saw the grappling hook and it clicked.

"Oh. Riiiiight. That way." His face burnt. Of goddamn course Bayu wasn't getting down as a wolf. He had some fucking tool. And maybe Serik was indeed just fucking fantasising. Goddammit.

He shook himself. "Right-- yeah- Hurryin'- 'm comin', am comin'!" he rushed back for some clothes, ending up grabbing some of Bayu's, because there was just no way he was getting back into his tight discarded clothes in any timely fashion. No, he didn't have time for this. So instead he grabbed the first sweat pants and hoodies he could find and put them on, followed by his boots. Bayu would just have to deal. They had other priorities than having a talk about private property right now.

He grabbed his gun and tools, and turned to Bayu. "Okay! Ready--!" In any other circumstances, he might have hesitated. But right here, right now, with Bayu opening his arm for him, he didn't need to be told twice. For lack of a better word, he jumped into Bayu's arms, wrapping his own around him and holding on tight.

Part of him was so happy -- so flattered Bayu actually let him do that, despite what he said earlier. But the rest of him was too focused on the mission to dwell on that too long. He flushed a bit -- Bayu was warm against him, and he couldn't help but wonder what his fur might feel like -- but prepared to follow directions as soon as they landed.

"Are you-- Whatchu gonna do? Do the other generator?" He asked as they rappelled down.

Soon, they were hitting the floor, though, and Serik lost no time in running where Bayu had directed him -- and he didn't fail to notice there were two rooms with generators. Bayu was in the other one, just nearby. That made some of his nerves settle, actually. Not that he was scared of anything going even worse, but having Bayu around still... well, it felt nice. The guy might be a bit of an ass when he wanted to, but Serik still trusted him with his life, and more.

He quickly stopped by the generator, following what Bayu had told him and opening the panel. It looked just as he had described. Blue lever. Red lever. Easy enough.

He pulled down the blue one, as instructed, then pushed up the red one.

Nothing happened.

He waited. But there was no spark... "Shit..." he mumbled under his breath, running a hand along the generator, but it seemed completely dead. No sound, no vibration, no heat...

Make it happen, Bayu had said. Easier said than done... Especially with less than 20 minutes left. He worried at his lower lip, and redid the manipulation again: levers back to starting position, blue down, red up...

And a whole lot of nothing.

"Fuck..." He was starting to sweat from all the mounting stress. Why the fuck wasn't it starting up... "This one's not startin'!" he shouted to the other side, but he didn't expect much help from Bayu.

Make it happen... What could he do...? What the heck could he do in that short a time? Dismantle it? Really? He might make things worse, he wasn't equipped, he--

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He was getting lightheaded from the tension, but he had to fucking make it happen. He had to, they had no fucking alternatives. He ran his hands down his face, grabbed his tools, and located a side panel to get deeper into the bowels of the generator.

He wasn't sure what he expected to find there -- he didn't know this make -- but he was met, again, with a whole lot of nothing. Nothing seemed broken or fried, not that he could see at least... It just looked... dead.

"Fuuuuck..." He shook his head and reached in deeper, towards the power core. He just needed to make it fucking HAPPEN.

His fingers grazed the core, and abruptly, something shifted. Like the room tilted on its axis, and the floor opened up underneath him all at once. His stomach lurched, but before he could even try to comprehend what was happening, the huge spark happened.

"SHI--"

And everything went white.

'I'm dead. I'm fucking dead', he thought. 'I'm dead to a fucking generator and a rookie mistake, dammit-' He must be dead, because nothing hurt. In fact, he could feel nothing at all. Like he didn't even have a body at all.

But then he realised he could see again.

He was on the floor.

And he was struggling to breathe. Oh yeah, now it hurt. He was fucking alive and he had no fucking clue how.

Clark unceremoniously returned to his food and more or less let Serik have whatever reaction he'd have while the cambion waited it out. The scooting of the chair did earn a quick glance, a perked brow. ❝ Don't scuff my floors, if you would. ❞

This was never a fun ordeal to navigate. It was repetitive and obnoxious to answer the same questions, to look upon the same expressions. The blond exhaled low even as he raised his mug to his lips.

Once he'd found a suitable place to reinsert himself into the conversation, he did. ❝ Relax. You've had questions, I've given you answers. ❞ There was a certain amount of patience and grace needed for these Big Reveal moments and Clark simply didn't have enough of either.

❝ You're in less danger with me than whatever is out there trying to gnaw at your bones or whatever. Don't insult me with such... ignorant reactions. ❞ He was by no means one to defend demo-kind-— but, come on. ❝ Any trade, deal, or bargain with a demon would be evident. There's a formality to it. It doesn't just happen passively. ❞

His eyes tossed into a roll and he stood to gather the remained of his breakfast to walk around the bar and towards the sink. ❝ There's more to what I am. But it's for the best we start at this point. Clearly, you're struggling with just that. ❞

"S-sorry-" He shrunk on himself a little, stopping his moving. Shit, he'd better not scuff those floors, uh? His face burnt. Thompson's reactions made him feel like he was acting like some racist bastard, full of prejudice and bias.

But fuck, weren't demons supposed to be bad and mean and dangerous and--

Well, apparently not. Because fucking Thompson right here was just the most calm motherfucker he had ever met. And Serik just felt like he was insulting him at every turn.

"Fuuuck..." He said after a moment, low and quiet. "Ignorant reactions... Goddammit. Guess I am uh... Am I bein' rude too? I think I'm bein' rude... Sorry... I uh... di'n' mean to be rude."

He took a deep breath. So demons didn't have to be mean and bad and dangerous... or, well, they were dangerous, but they were apparently also fucking courteous and clear about when they got you into deals to sell your soul, uh?

"I- I didn't know that... So they don't- like-- try to... trick you?" He paused, and winced. "Sorry- I'm bein' rude again. Right? Yeah... Uh... I guess-- I guess that's good to know? Thanks?"

He watched him wash the dishes for a moment, then slowly gathered his things too and approached, standing beside him and glancing at him curiously.

+. While many others would get the finger if they told him to fuck off, Serik only received a light chuckle and roll of his eyes before his lips curled into a smirk.

"You're very funny. First, you insult me, and then you offer to drive me around like you're my personal chauffeur. But... "

The medic shrugged, rubbing his eyelids gently while the same smile as before lingered upon his face. Exchanging looks between Serik and out to the sleeping town outside, coming alive - right before his eyes.

"--- Sure." If that meant they could find a reason to meet again... "Just so you know; I work a l l strange hours of the night -- and sometimes day -- so I'm not the easiest 'client' to deal with."

He was already craving another coffee...Maybe he should ask him to come up and join him for one -- but that would be moving too fast, wouldn't it? Besides, Chiaki had an important appointment. With his bed. Fast asleep (hopefully) to prepare him for the next shift.

"---- You want to trade numbers?" .+

Okay, sure, he said 'fuck you' to Chiaki, but honestly, that was affectionate from him. Mostly. But the guy had insulted his skills! Surely that was proportionate -- even if he was pretty sure Chiaki was also saying it in jest.... Maybe even also affectionately.

Shit. Serik flushed a bit. What a fucking mess he got himself in with this little game. He was already starting to really get attached to the medic, and to really appreciate his company and his humour... That couldn't end well.

Sure, Chiaki suddenly said, drawing him out of his thoughts.

"Uh?" He glanced at the other man, only to abruptly realise he had just agreed to being driven around some more. Serik flushed hotter, keeping his gaze fixedly on the road now so he didn't have to meet the medic's gaze.

"Oh- Right, uh-" He shook himself and huffed. "Yeah, don' worry 'bout that. I've uh... Strange hours too. So uh... 'f you need me, I'll answer." What the fuck was he doing, part of him wondered. What was he doing promising to come like a knight to the rescue? But at the same time, it just felt right, so he pushed the weird feeling aside.

He glanced at him. "Oh, sure. Tradin' numbers. Yeah. Sure." He shrugged, and chuckled. "That'd make it easier, uh? T' call me 'f you need me..."

He glanced at his phone with the trip on it. "Should be almost there..." He fiddled a bit with his phone, while looking at the road at the same time. But things were calm at this hour. They were just before the rush.

"Here." He pulled up his contact page on his phone, pointing it out to Chiaki, if he wanted to write it down. "Call me? I'll put you in when I'm not drivin'," he snorted.

>. Thank god. He was alright.

[ BINARY > SERIK ]: if you destroyed the shit i actually care about i wouldve slapped u . but that vase was bound to break sooner or later . and the shelves was bothering me anyway so . . .

Not really, but that was besides the point.

[ BINARY > SERIK ]: it's cool u kno ?

She had been there before, too. Incapable of holding down her emotions, even at the smallest of inconveniences. Someone who had quickly taught her to keep a lid on it was Harvey -- that her emotions were valid no matter what; but she was still held responsible for the actions she put out in the world.

Two-Face, however, well... That was a different story.

[ BINARY > SERIK ]: look i know the situation ur in . when i started working for grandtech i couldnt tell anyone i liked women . according to them it was like . unprofessional and shit . but fuck them . and fuck anyone who judges you liek that . [ BINARY > SERIK ]: and ur NOT a dumbass . fr .

The fingertips hovered over the keys of her phone once more, debating on what to say and how to patch up the crack she had now caused. Serik wasn't easy, but at the same time...He made a lot more sense than most people ever did in their whole life.

[ BINARY > SERIK ]: let me make it up to you . [ BINARY > SERIK ]: pls .

He knew that. And he felt bad... But at the same time... It did make him feel kinda nice, inside. Nice in a way that ached in his chest. Because she was trying to make him feel better.

Because she cared enough to.

And oh, it hurt. But it hurt in a good way. Like pouring alcohol on a cut. It stung, but it felt like it would get better after.

But then-- then she told him about herself when the next message came. Binary was so private it shocked him a bit.

She was really-- really trying...

And when she wrote him to 'fuck anyone who judges you like that', something kinda gave in him.

Without quite knowing why, he found himself sobbing softly, and it was through overflowing tears that he typed his response to Binary.

[ TXT > Binary ] - i don let anyone judge me liek that [ TXT > Binary ] - what u sayin [ TXT > Binary ] - its not like that

In truth, he didn't let people judge him like that anymore. He didn't give them the chance. And he didn't let that get to him when they did, because he didn't care. He didn't let them in.

[ TXT > Binary ] - thx tho

It did mean a lot though, for her to tell him that. Even if he couldn't quite explain why that meant so much to him. But it did. It soothed something deep. Something he hadn't been thinking about for a long, long time.

>. Kidnapping? Sure.

There wasn't really any other word to sugarcoat it with. While Binary swerved back and forth through the traffic and streets, her mind kept repeating that word. Kidnapping. Taking someone against their will. And yet, Serik didn't seem to want anything but to get revenge on whoever got him into this mess in the first place.

Good. Revenge was hell of a motivator, at least in her humble opinion.

Binary made a few sharp turns, heading into the Narrows -- blasting through the parts of Gotham that most would like to neglect for all future. But to her - this was her home.

It didn't take them long to reach her safehouse in the dishevelled neighbourhoods, parking just outside her courtyard with a screeching halt. Parking her Harley before once more switching out the helmet for her mask on pure automatic.

"This is it...---- Home sweet home."

Didn't look like much. It was just a regular apartment building with regular old folks -- but right at the very bottom of it, in the basement; it was her own slice of paradise.

"Okay, rule number one," Binary turned to Serik once he was off his bike, one finger pointed upward. "You don't tell a single soul you've been here. If I even hear that you've been running your mouth about this place to anyone, I will finish you off myself. Capiché?" .<

But he wasn't surprised -- even if it made him a little nervous -- when this was where they stopped. He just hoped Binary had put up proper security in her 'safehouse'.

Reluctantly, he stopped with her and stepped off his bike, only to lift both hands in surrender when she immediately assaulted him with rules.

"Whoa whoa-- course I won't tell anyone. C'mon..." he grumbled, slowly lowering his hands. "What d'you take me for, uh? I don' jus' tell on people. I can keep secrets. Seriously. Tha's kinda mean, y'know? Been in this for a while now, 's not like I don' know how things work 'round here..."

He shook his head and set his helmet down, looking up at the apartment building.

"So uh... This is where we're... gonna work then..? I know you think Imma beat it, but... Y' know you gonna have to let me come 'n go too... I uh... I work on the field. 's where I'm at my best. 'm not gonna be much use behind a desk... But I promise. 'm not gonna run away."

>. "...Yeah. I think I'd like that."

She wanted to smile, give him a pleasant, professional, and lighthearted shrug in response -- but her eyes had already fixated on a black, empty void before her between the brick wall in the alleyway that they stood in while continuously inhaling smoke like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

Luckily, though, Serik had stepped in just in time to keep her from floating once her cigarette was all burnt up.

"...I've had her since, uhm...Things went to shit. I couldn't drive a car for a really long time without wanting to throw up. So she's been around for a while. Definitely could use a lot more love than I give her."

It was nice. To find something worth reminiscing about, but at the same time, struggling to not think about becoming stagnant. When she thought her plan to strike back would go off without a hitch -- only to be here these years later, stuck in place. Still alive in Gotham.

"--- When should I come over? You know my schedule."

Or rather, lack of one.

"....Whenever you have time over. --- Let me know."

He looked away quickly, curiosity eating at him, but also warring with the fear of making it worse for her if he asked anything... But at the same time, she was the one who brought that up, right?

Fuck... His mouth took over before he could truly decide what he wanted to do with this information.

"Whoa, it's- Tha' sounds bad...? You uh- wha' happened...?" He shook his head, lifting his hands in a placating and surrendering gesture. "Not that you gotta tell or anythin'! I just- Nevermind." He flushed in embarrassment. He was just so bad at this.

Luckily, there were other things they could focus on, like giving Binary's bike some much needed love. "Oh, you... You can come any time, really..." He paused, fidgeting a bit as he hesitated.

Morning face. 1916. Cover detail.

The earth and Saturn. More worlds than one. 1854.

Keeping an eye on a bat. Finding Nature's Treasures. 1933.