streamofwords

w!o - part 6

Sun, 23 Nov 2008 05:10:57 GMT

Zero found himself out of breath sooner than he'd expected to be. Ascending the ladder up towards the rooftop of the building shouldn't have managed to wear him out so easily, but he found some comfort in a number of factors that would excuse his current state of weakness. He probably hadn't sleep for over a day now. He'd been walking through this maze without a break for over half that time. And the fact that he'd gone through a whole pack of cigarettes certainly didn't offer much hope as to the condition of his lungs. Yet Zero was long since operating on sheer willpower alone to keep him going. If he stopped now, then there was no hope for Cain or the kid.

He pulled himself up onto the roof, standing there while he wrestled for control of his body. His arms tingled from the exertion of the climb which had taxed his already low reserves of strength. Zero turned his face upwards, eyes closing as he felt the first relief of a breeze that washed over his face, cooling the sheen of sweat coating it. It was the first sign of normalcy that he had experienced in forever. The space around him felt more real somehow, as if things were more like they should be, and less like the unnatural stillness of the maze.

With a look around, Zero took in the expanse of his surroundings. Standing here, he was able to look out across the landscape of rooftops, all shaped together in bizarre patterns. The full scope of the maze stretched out from his position, going on as far as he could see. There was no sign of escape to be found, nor did there seem to be any strategy to the seemingly random path below. If he had stayed down there, Zero wagered that he would have been down there forever, wandering with no hope of finding an end.

Up here, he was one step closer to making real progress. He really wanted to celebrate the achievement with a cigarette, but had long since emptied the packs. Instead, Zero allowed himself to rest, to let his brain take some time to work through everything and come up with a strategy for what he would do next. As he sat down, Zero murmured to himself. "Okay. So the Jabberwocky himself got you out of that crazy maze. But why? What is his plan for you now that you're up here? This could very well be a trap that he has set, and you're walking right into it." Zero glanced back towards the ladder with a frown. "Still... The other option would be for you to keep wandering around in that pit, probably until you bite it, or until the Jabberwocky got bored and decided to kill you."

Neither option sounded appealing. Zero had to settle for pushing forward. He stood up and walked around the perimeter of the roof to judge his options of where to go next. There were no other buildings attached to this one. Zero would have to jump to one of the other rooftops, and many of them looked too far apart to manage such a feat. So where did the Jabberwocky expect him to go from here? He turned around with a low growl of frustration, reaching a hand up to his hair. He paused with his fingers halfway over his scalp as he spotted another ladder which had materialized not far from the first.

This ladder, though, stretched right up into the sky. Another seemingly impossible marvel of the Jabberwocky's private funhouse, Zero guessed. He cautiously approached the ladder, reaching out to try and shake it, expecting that it would fall right over with nothing to support it.

The ladder held firm. Zero scowled, fixing both hands on it as he tried to give it a firmer shake, yet it stayed rooted in place without wavering in the slightest. "Well. Looks like I go up, then. Climbing into the clouds. And here I thought things couldn't get more bizarre." While he certainly did not fancy making another trek up a ladder, Zero took hold of the rungs and began to ascend towards the dark sky above.

At least until the sky came crashing against his head. Or until his head collided with the sky, to be more accurate. "Ouch! Shit!" Zero swore loudly as he recoiled with a wince, shrinking against the ladder for support while his eyes blinked away the flickering spots of light which dazed them.

Once they'd cleared enough for him to see, Zero studied directly above him. It seemed impossible that he'd smack his head on the sky. The ladder seemed to go on for miles and miles above, disappearing into a dark bank of white clouds high overhead. Zero let go of the ladder rung with one hand in order to stretch it above him. His pain transformed into a small thrill of discovery when he found his palm slapping flat against the surface of the sky. It had been an illusion all this time!

Better yet, Zero found that when he pushed up with his hand, that chunk of sky also seemed to give a little. It was a hatch of some kind. Locking his legs securely around the rungs of the ladder, Zero freed both hands up, positioning them side by side as he gave a hard upward shove. He heard the sound of hinges creaking, as the sky cracked open above him and opened up to reveal a gaping maw of blackness.

Zero pulled himself up through the hole, rolling over onto his back on a dusty wooden floor. He gasped for breath, eyes searching quickly around him to determine what he had climbed himself into. A storage room of some kind. Old boxes and cloth-covered relics sat silently around where he lay. He had made it out of the maze.

Once he had rested and gathered his bearings, Zero felt more confident that he would be better prepared to finish saving the day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In a rush, the Rabbit hurried through the door of the surveillence room, investigating to see what might have set off the alarms. He stopped in surprise, finding that someone else had already beat him there.

The Jabberwock stood in front of the banks of glowing monitors, features shadowed despite their illumination. His gaze was fixed at an angle as the creature watched one particular screen. As the Rabbit walked over to stand beside him, the Jabberwock's mouth was touched by a tiny curve of amusement. "Zero has climbed out of the Rabbit Hole. He's managed to get into the basement."

"You should go dispatch of him immediately, Sir." The Rabbit advised, as he also watched the screen. On the monitor, Zero was rising off the floor, searching through the contents of the boxes around him. This made the Rabbit's frown deepen. "He is a curious invader. Far too curious. It puzzles me that he managed to find his way up from the Maze."

"I showed him the way." Jabberwock answered, ignoring the shocked glance he received from the Rabbit at his confession. "Part of the way, anyhow."

Rabbit turned stiffly towards the creature. "Why would you do such a thing? Do you not realize the trouble that he can cause?"

Jabberwock ignored the flustered Rabbit, tilting his head as he watched Zero search through those forgotten possessions. He let out a thoughtful hum to himself. "It never did cross my mind until now, you know -- what is inside those boxes down there?"

"Nothing." Rabbit answered hurriedly. "There's nothing down there. Absolutely nothing. Just dirty old things that you have no need for, considering what pretty things you have around here now. Why don't you go to the Red Room while I make you some tea? I am sure the Hatter and Doormouse would love to join you."

"Hatter. Mmm." The creature's smile turned indulgent at the thought of sharing tea with his dearest guest. "But what about dear Alex? I thought that you wanted me to go kill him?"

"Never you mind that, Sir. You just go hunt down your playmates." Rabbit looked back in the direction of the monitor, eyes narrowing. "I will deal with Mister Zero personally."

~~~~~~~~~~

Hatter was occupying himself inside the Red Room, seated at his usual place at the long table. He'd messily cleared some of the china cups and plates out of his way so that he could free up a spot to play cards. The Doormouse was sitting beside him, and Hatter had done his best to try and coax his reticent young friend to join in on some games with him, yet the mute creature continued to ignore him. So he ended up being stuck playing with the cards all on his own.

After five unsuccessful rounds of Solitaire, Hatter sat back in his chair in frustration. "Damnable game! I don't see why this should be so difficult. I was under the impression that I would somehow find this easier to play."

"You're short a full deck."

Hatter glanced up sharply to find the Cheshire Cat seated across from him at the table, snorting in offense. "I beg your pardon, but I assure you that my mind is operating just fine, thank you."

Shaking his head, Cheshire pointed to the cards in the Hatter's grip. "No, stupid. The deck. The card deck? It's only got forty cards in it. No way would you ever be able to win a game like that."

"Oh." Feeling silly now for having been so defensive, Hatter focused on the cards in his palm. "Why would someone take out the rest of the cards?"

With a shrug, the other man propped an elbow on the table, dropping his chin down into an upturned hand. "Jabberwocky did it one day. I used to play with them all the time, and he eventually got angry with me for using it as a distraction. So he tore enough of them up that the deck became useless to me. Sort of like it is for you now."

"He does seem prone to those sorts of moods, doesn't he?" The Hatter murmured sympathetically, as he slid the deck over in front of the motionless Doormouse. "It amazes me that he has so many friends, being such a temperamental creature."

"Jabberwock ain't always been like that." Cheshire's gold earrings swayed as the man shook his head. "He ain't always been the Jabberwock, neither."

"So what was he before?"

The other man opened his mouth to answer, but clamped it quickly shut when the Jabberwock appeared in the doorway, lounging against its side. With a smirk, the creature purred, "I was a randy satyr in Aphrodite's court. Or, at the very least, I'd like to think so."

Cheshire seemed to shrink in his chair now that the Jabberwock was in their presence. Hatter noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that the Doormouse shuddered visibly as soon as the creature had spoken. Yet the Jabberwock was immune to noticing their behavior, as he sauntered into the room and jumped up into his chair at the head of the table. "Rabbit will be bringing us tea soon, once he is finished in the basement."

"The basement?" Forgetting his trepidation with the creature for the moment, Chesire spoke up with an intensely curious study of the Jabberwock. "What business has he got down there? Ain't no one been in the basement for annuals. Nothing down there but dust and memories."

"Memories, you say?" Jabberwock reached for one of the seemingly endless supply of pastries which were sitting on the table, beginning to tear it into smaller pieces before stuffing the chunks in his mouth. With no thought for manners, he spoke around a clump of bread. "What kind of memories?"

"Just-just stuff." Looking hurriedly away from the dark eyes of the Jabberwock, Cheshire quickly cleared his throat. "Well. I should probably get going." He paused in the act of rising as a pale hand flashed across the table, pinning the Cheshire's in place before he could finish making a getaway.

Hatter looked on with curious alarm as the Jabberwock surged up from his chair to lock the Cat into place like that. The beast had climbed up onto the table in seconds, weight balanced on a knee as he loomed over the Cheshire. He saw that the Cheshire was struggling to get that hand free without making his desperation to escape obvious. Of course, the Jabberwocky was practically nose-to-nose with the man now, and the intensity in those black eyes would have even made the Hatter nervous.

Jabberwock turned his face slightly aside, spitting out a wad of chewed pastry towards the floor. He then shifted his weight forward further, and brought his hand up. Long fingers curled like talons before he sank them into the knot of the tie around the Cheshire's neck, so that the man was forced to look up at him or risk being choked. "Stuff in boxes?"

"Y-yeah, probably. Could be, I guess."

"What kind of stuff?"

Cheshire looked wildly towards the Hatter, checking to see if the blond was going to intervene. "It.. well.. old stuff. Stuff that used to be up here. Stuff that the Rabbit keeps locked away now."

"The Rabbit." Clucking his tongue, Jabberwock allowed some slack on his grip as he absorbed the Cat's words. "Yes. You know, I am having this odd suspicion that the White Rabbit might be up to mischief. Hiding boxes away behind my back. He's becoming a secretive little bunny. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that matter, would you, kitty?"

"No. I don't know what his deal is." The Cheshire shook his head. "He doesn't tell me anything! It's just that I remember when he locked it all away. I remember some stuff from time to time."

"You're a clever feline." Jabberwock nodded slowly, then released his hold on the man. He eased fluidly backwards, seeming to melt back into the embrace of his chair in a few blinks of an eye. The Cheshire was given a thoughtful examination by those black eyes, as the creature measured him up. "I want to know what my Rabbit is up to. Start talking."

~~~~~~~~~~

Zero stepped back as another slab of wood came crashing down to the floor of the basement, raising an arm to wave aside a fresh cloud of dust. As it cleared, he bent in over the edge of the box to sort through its contents just as he had done for the other opened boxes around him. While he wasn't entirely certain what it was that he was searching for, there was no denying what he had stumbled upon here. Every box that he had opened so far had revealed more and more confirmation that the mystery of this place went far deeper than Zero had initially thought.

These were no ordinary possessions. He had found documents and journals, silverware and china, candleabras -- all stamped with the familiar crest of the lost royal family. These objects, once kept under watch of that very family, had been locked away in these boxes for a very long time. Not that there were only ordinary household items in some of the crates. Zero had come across a few bizarre inventions, contraptions that went beyond his understanding. But hadn't he heard of such strange things being created at the hands of the Queen's advisor?

Nothing in the box really caught his attention. Zero turned from it, absently curling his fingers into fabric as he dragged a faded cloth off a towering mound behind him. He tilted his head to look back once it had dropped. Then Zero choked on his own breath as he realized what he was looking at. "Holy shit."

The portrait was huge. It must have stood at least two feet taller than Zero did. The frame around it looked to be made out of real gold. Undoubtedly, the thing must have weighed a ton. Despite the marvel of these details, it was the subjects of the painting which had the largest effect on Zero. He did not recognize the woman in the portrait immediately. Though he quickly worked out that he was looking at an image of the Queen. She was lovely, if the portrait really did her justice. The artist had even captured the warmth in her eyes, and their sadness, as she stared eternally from that canvas.

Zero's eyes shifted to analyze the man standing beside her. This somber man, dressed in dark clothing, who seemed distant even in the portrait. Zero was surprised to find that he recognized the man immediately. Though this face was far different than the one he knew. The face in the portrait lacked the cruelty, the bestial edge that marked the face of the Jabberwock. Yet there was no arguing that this man was the exact image of that monster. Zero dropped his eyes away from the image of that face, spooked by knowing that he was staring at the face of a creature that might soon murder him.

He knelt down to the base of the portrait, wiping his hand across the bottom of the frame to read the plate centered there. Queen Ozma and Advisor Ambrose.

"Ambrose." Zero scowled. "So you really do have a name, you sick bastard." He glanced back up to the face of the man who became the Jabberwock, then twisted his head over his shoulder in order to glance back to an opened box. Wasn't there something he had seen in his searching that had been marked by that name?

Abandoning the portrait, he returned to the box which held all of those bizarre gadgets. Zero searched through it again and pushed aside the little contraptions to find what he was looking for. He wrapped his fingers around a leathery book, then pulled it up for closer examination, reading the gold letters which had been etched upon the cover. "Scientific Journal." He turned it over in his hand to read a line of smaller print on the back. "Property of Ambrose, Laboratory use only."

Zero felt a slight thrill of anticipation. The story went that this entire affair had begun due to the curious nature of the Queen's advisor. Would the contents of this journal provide some clues as to exactly what happened here that turned this place into such a bizarre nightmare landscape?

He slid down to the floor with his back against the box, cracking open the leather cover for the first time in annuals. His eyes scanned over the entries, written in a cramped, meticulous handwriting. He searched through the pages, though much of it went beyond his understanding. Diagrams, formulas that made no sense, observations made by a mind that seemed to work only on logic.

It seemed that nothing was going to come from reading the journal. Zero's head hurt from merely trying to decipher through the entries, with no sign of anything that would give him any solid answers. None that his brain could translate, anyhow. Then, on the last few pages, he paused as he caught sight of an interesting passage. It stood out from the others, because it seemed to have been written in a hurry.

Today, Alchemist Raynz is scheduled to arrive here at the Palace. We are expecting him any moment now, which is why I am writing this in haste. He has finally come! All of my efforts to correspond with him in the past have finally provided fruitful results!
There are so many questions that I want to ask him. I have heard much of the Alchemist's contributions to the scientific world -- he is something of a legend. It is my sincerest hope that once I show him evidence of my own creations, he will accept our invitation to remain here at the Palace. If he does, then we will make a most productive team, and undoubtedly this land will quickly come to realize the true power of science with two great scientific minds behind it.

Zero flipped the page to read the next entry.

Alchemist Raynz has agreed to remain here with us. Tomorrow, we begin our work in earnest. For the first time in several annuals, I admit that I feel excited to see what will happen.

There were a few more diagrams on the next few pages. Zero wondered if that was all that there was to be found. He skipped ahead until another entry caught his eye.

I believe that we are on the verge of success with my latest invention. Alchemist Raynz has been most helpful in finding the correct path to working through the difficulties in achievement fulfillment of the project. The Sun Seater will soon be a reality.
Though I admit that it has been difficult, as of late, for me to focus on the project. I nearly forgot to write anything today. My nights have been very restless this past week, since Raynz arrived. It is probably just a result of too many long hours or work, and perhaps my own nervous energy in seeing my project realized. Tonight, I will ask the Medic to give me a sleep aid so that I can get a sound night's rest.
Perhaps I will also see if they might have something to cure these nightmares of mine that have been plaguing me lately. When I put it in writing, it really does sound like silly nonsense.

Zero frowned as he found the next few pages blank. He flipped through them to see if there had been anything beyond that point. There was only one more, on the very last page of the journal. The handwriting was messy. So sloppy, in fact, that Zero squinted hard as he tried to read it.

I blew up the world today. Then I had to take more of the Rabbit's magic medicine. The Rabbit read me a poem when I was finished.
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Jabberwock sounds like fun to be, so Jabberwocky now is me.
Good day, goodnight, goodbye.

Zero closed the journal, thinking over everything that he had read. If the journal was any indication as to the course of events, then it seemed that things had been on a normal routine until the arrival of Raynz, the alchemist. Was he somehow responsible for all that had taken place? Zero opened the journal back to that last entry. "Magic medicine? An alchemist arrives, and then Ambrose began to show signs of abnormal behavior. Somehow, he went from the rigid guy in that portrait to the crazy beast he is today." He drummed his fingers thoughtfully against his chin, feeling a scratch of stubble that had formed during the time he'd been in this mess. "Could the alchemist have been drugging Ambrose somehow?" Zero flipped to the previous entry, studying the name of the mysterious man. "Raynz..."

"It has been annuals since anyone has uttered that name in my presence."

Zero twisted on his knees, instinctively moving to defend himself. However, the steady barrel of a gun kept him from moving too far off the ground. Zero slowly raised his hands up to either side as he shifted his eyes from the barrel of that gun to the man who was holding it.

The albino man -- the White Rabbit! -- was staring at him with open hostility, yet that was masked by perfect calm as he regarded Zero. He saw that Raynz was dressed in the usual fine clothes which he always wore when he came out of the Wonderland District. Zero nervously wet his lips as he studied the armed man. "I'm kinda surprised that people here still carry firearms."

"Unfortunately, I do not have the same inhuman attributes that the Jabberwock possesses." Raynz explained dully. "He is a rare case in that regard. So I must make do with more simple means."

"You're talking about Ambrose, right? That's who the Jabberwock is -- was." Zero corrected himself, as he let his eyes travel back and forth between the man and his gun.

Raynz scoffed derisively. "Ambrose? Ambrose was nothing more than a niave man that couldn't see beyond the field of science. He thought that the only way for science to progress was through metals, gears, cogs and wheels. His brain was inflexible!"

"I read through his journal. I guess I can understand what you mean there."

Nodding, the pale man continued. "Ambrose could not see the possibilities that I had to offer. He would have made an excellent pupil to me, if only he could have been persuaded. But that was not to be. So, I decided that I would show him and the entire world what I could create. Not just a gadget to change how humanity could operate. No, Mister Zero, I changed the very nature of how humans would operate."

Zero shook his head. He could tell that Raynz was getting caught up in the conversation. If he could find an opening, then Zero knew that he could probably find a moment to strike and disarm the other man while Raynz was distracted. "I.. well, that doesn't make sense to me at all. How did you do it, if you don't mind my asking? How did you change him so drastically?"

"It was quite simple. I had created an elixir several moon cycles before my visit to the Palace here in Central City. The only thing that I lacked was a suitable specimen to test it on. When Ambrose invited me, I knew that it was an excellent opportunity for me to see how successful I had been. So on the very night that I agreed to stay at the Palace, I snuck into Ambrose's room and gave him the first injection."

"And that changed him?"

"Not at first." Raynz shook his head. "It took a while, you see, for the full capacity of the elixir to take complete effect. Ambrose confided in me on several occasions during that time about some of the changes that he was experiencing. He complained of nightmares, of sleepless nights, of losing his ability to focus on tasks. Those were signs of the change coming upon him. And poor, clueless Ambrose did not even realize that all of his talks with me were merely additional information for my research. I was able to watch my specimen become altered through the entire changing process."

Zero's mind tried to process this. "So then he suddenly snapped and went monkeyshit because of the drugs you were putting in him?"

"Not entirely, no. He needed a nudge to clear that last hurdle -- his sense of reason." Raynz smiled lightly, pleased with himself. "I worked with him to complete his beloved project -- his sun machine. Once it was done, and I was satisfied that he was on the verge of the final transformation, I pushed him past his breaking point. I made him use his machine to blow most of the Palace to pieces. I am sure that you remember the event?"

"Yes." Zero nodded. "The entire area was inpenetrable. No one could get in to see if anyone on this side was still alive. Then when they finally got through, everyone here had vanished into thin air."

"We had captured those who were still alive long before those outside of the District had managed to break their way in. The dungeons below the Palace were used to keep them contained until we could finish processing all of them. It took several doses of my elixir to get everyone under control, but we were eventually successful. Those who did not take to the drug were eliminated, and burnt as fuel to keep this place nice and warm."

"What about that maze down below? You guys put a lot of effort into this place, didn't you?"

Raynz chuckled, the sound dry in his throat. "The Maze? It's all a bunch of smoke and mirrors. Deceptive tricks created by charlatans and con artists, which were easily adapted for our own needs. The Caterpillar and the Cheshire Cat were most helpful in the creation of the Maze which you enjoyed." He gestured around them with his empty hand. "We are currently in one of the upper levels of the old Palace. I maintain our operations on the floor above, where all of my specimens travel freely. None, however, are allowed down here. I couldn't have them prying into the past, like you have done."

"Some of you come and go. The Caterpillar left, and you come and go from here. Plus, Ambrose seems to go wherever he wants to."

"The Jabberwock never travels outside of the District. I have him firmly convinced that something terrible awaits him if he were to ever dare to try it." Raynz shrugged. "As to the Caterpillar, well... His mind was ruined by the drug, so he became useless to my experiment. I sent him on his way mostly in an effort to ward away anyone who was curious enough to come investigating this place. I come and go to keep this little Wonderland in operation. My elixir is in short supply, which I regret, so it is necessary for me to go out from time to time in order to get the materials that I need to restock. Occasionally, I also bring a playmate back to keep the Jabberwock distracted."

"Like Cain, right?" Zero scowled as he watched the smug satisfaction play out across Raynz' pale features.

"Ah, Cain." Raynz sighed. "Mister Cain was something of an exception. The Jabberwock had specifically requested Mister Cain's presence here. Apparently he had become quite taken with your fellow officer when you all had come trespassing here some time earlier. I could not appease him, despite how many playmates that I brought for him after that. That is why I decided to lure Mister Cain here, so that the Jabberwock would be satisfied. And now, thanks to you, Jabberwock now has the younger Cain here as a playmate as well."

"So I assume that you are intending to hand me over to him next, right?"

That made Raynz laugh, as he fixed the stance better behind the gun. "Incorrect. You, I'm afraid, are going to be too difficult to handle. You know far too much for me to allow you to live, Mister Zero. And as much as the Jabberwock wants you as a playmate, I regret to inform you that this.. naughty little 'Alice' won't be making it to the tea party tonight. Goodbye, Mister Zero."

Happiness in Slavery or UC2 - Part Two

Wed, 21 May 2008 05:47:44 GMT

"We should be nearing one of the trade towns along this part of the highway." Fighter Kalaba tapped at the map that was spread out between Ambrose and himself. The young man had an excellent sense of direction, which had motivated the general to place Kalaba in charge of navigating them along the safest, most direct route to the North. "They're neutral. It would be a good place to restock our supplies before the next leg of the march. We might even be able to barter some horses from them, if we're fortunate."

"Horses would make the journey go much faster." Ambrose agreed, reaching over to pat the soldier on the shoulder. "Good work, Fighter Kalaba." He raised his voice, head tilting back as he called to the other men behind him. "Anyone here that doesn't fancy the idea of a warm meal, soft bed and a shower -- I expect the rest of you to raze that individual for the remainder of this journey. Agreed?"

"Yes, Sir!" Came the enthusiastic chorus of responses. Thoughts of indulging in those luxuries had just sent their morale skyrocketing. Ambrose winked to Kalaba before hopping up onto his feet.

He crossed the camp towards where a pair of soldiers were taking an inventory of their remaining ammunition. They were twins, greener in seasons than Kalaba, but Ambrose knew that they had an uncanny knack for shooting things. Since it was difficult to differentiate between the pair, the general had settled into addressing them as best he could. "Fighter Cook One and Two. What's the situation with our ammo? Kalaba has proposed that we stop at the next town to restock. I assume after our little skirmishes along the way here, we will be needing to get our hands on more ammunition?"

"Handgun ammunition is good-" Cook One told him.

"-but rifles are low on rounds." Cook Two finished for his brother as he gestured to the piles of bullets which they had collected from the men of the unit.

"No choice. We'll have to divide what we have left among the men. Impress upon them the importance of conservation when you do. No bullet gets wasted until we can be sure that we'll have enough to last until we reach the camp."

"Yes, Sir." The Cook brothers said in unison, saluting him in sync. They turned back to their work as Ambrose walked away from them. He walked to the central point of the camp, hands fisting on his hips as he surveyed everyone around him. Everything seemed to be running smoothly. They had their targeted destination. They'd manage through the shortage on ammunition. No attacks had been staged on their unit for several days. For the first time since starting this journey, Ambrose felt that he might finally be able to relax.

He crossed the camp, drawn to where Cain was attending to the fire to keep it burning steadily. There was a breeze pushing through the night air, so the blond had to keep up consistent efforts to prevent the blaze from going out. Ambrose canted his head, murmuring. "Why don't you just position something in front of the fire to make the wind blow around it instead of through it?"

"Because that'd be too easy." Came the dull reply, as Cain glanced up to his lover. "And I'm trying my best to keep looking busy, since there's not much else around here that I'm good at. Not like these guys." He jutted his chin forward to indicate the other soldiers at work in the camp.

Crouching down, Ambrose spread his hands out in front of the fire to warm his palms. "What makes you believe that?"

"Well, it's true. Everyone around here has their skills. Myron has muscle, Tam has that lethal fighting stuff, Bixby can do a little bit of everything, Kalaba's a wizard with a map, and the Cook twins over there could outshoot me blindfolded with a gun that pulls left." Cain snorted, prodding the fire more insistently.

"I guess you weren't lying when you said that the infallible Wyatt Cain does doubt himself after all." The general said mildly, eyes reflecting the flickering fire as he gave Cain an unwavering study. "You shouldn't cut yourself short, Wyatt. These man have had annuals of training for their skills." He shifted his eyes towards Tam. "Tam was born in the Palace. They trained Tam to be agile, extremely flexible. Tam had been intended to become like a sideshow attraction for their amusement. But Tam learned how to fight, and the skills which the Palace gave Tam helped to foster those teachings."

Cain glanced in the direction of the other fighter. Tam was the silent one of the group, saying very little. He wore a black half-mask over the lower half of his face all the time. Cain had never seen him take it off. Out of all of the others, Tam was by far the one who Cain would not want to be up against in a fight. The man was slender like Ambrose, and Cain could attest to Tam's agility from having seen him in battle. Tam tread the world with silent footfalls. "I didn't know that he had a history with the Palace."

"Many of the men here do. Their stories aren't so different from yours." Ambrose explained quietly, as he eased down to sit on the ground next to Cain so that they could talk more privately. "Morgan Cook -- or as I like to call him 'Cook Two', was actually imprisoned in the Palace for about four years when he was in his teens. They used him on the work sites for building. Virgil Cook actually gathered a few of his friends and waited until Morgan was stationed at one of the outer points before staging an attack and rescuing him. They've been inseparable ever since." He smiled faintly. "They also vehemently despise anyone that expresses any favor towards the Palace."

The twins were speaking quietly together, heads bent close as they continued to count the stock of the unit's ammunition. Virgil was the eldest twin, from what Cain had gathered. He was lean and tall, while Morgan was short and stocky. Aside from that difference, they looked like replicas. Their hair was shaggy auburn, growing carelessly down past their shoulders. Cain would have said that they had kindly faces, if not for their eyes.

Both brothers had pale blue eyes like his, but there was a hardness to theirs that Cain hoped he would never find reflecting back at him from the mirror. They had the capacity to be ruthless; that was something which Cain could read from those eyes, which he had always believed to be a portal to the soul inside. Time and experience had hardened them, and they were about half his age.

The Palace had a way of doing that to innocent people. Cain gave a silent prayer of thanks to whatever deity of fate had caused that hellhole to crumble.

Ambrose gestured in another direction, towards where the massive bulk of Myron dominated the expanse of a log which he was seated on. The man stood two heads taller than Cain in height, and about three more men wide, bald on the top of his head but with a full red beard. Not that Cain was naive enough to think that Myron had any fat to him. He had seen the man lift boulders and logs that would have taken two men of Cain's size to handle out of the way like they were a minor nuisance. Cain was pretty confident that Myron's bicept was as thick around as his head, but never dared get close enough to that brute force in order to test the theory. Myron took a deep drink from a tin mug, sputtering his coffee out when Bixby leaned close and made some remark.

Bixby laughed as he slapped the coughing man on the back, Myron's face turning purple from the coughing fit he'd fallen into. Something about Bixby didn't rub Cain the right way. The man seemed slick to him, too sneaky for his liking. Yet Cain knew that such traits were exactly what they kept him around for.

Bixby was a charismatic fellow, pretty handsome by O.Z. standards. The ladies undoubtedly favored his attention. His hair was shiny black, green eyes dancing with a wicked glint no matter where they looked. Cain wasn't sure if he could put his trust into that wicked streak.

Yet Ambrose trusted him implicitly. He began to speak again.

"Myron and Bixby actually worked on the Palace's payroll for quite some time, though they left for different reasons. Myron used to haul shipments into the Palace since he worked for one of the major trade companies. He's a good-hearted man, despite looking so intimidating. Eventually, Myron began smuggling slaves out of the Palace with his wagon. They discovered what he was up to and torched his wagon, beat him within an inch of his life. I was actually the one who tended to his injuries inside the Palace when they brought him in." The general shook his head. "They'd done quite a number on him. That was one of my more intense emergency surgeries. But I got him back to health and he managed to score himself a trip out of the Palace one day in the wagon of an old trade collegue."

"Bixby Barchus was a runner in the Palace." When Cain looked confused by the term, Ambrose murmured, "Umm.. drug peddler? Not that he just handled drugs. Old Bixby was the go-to man when it came to satisfying your vices inside the Palace. Even members of the Royal Council were customers of his. Everyone liked Bixby."

"Sounds like he had it pretty good." Cain shrugged. "So why did he leave?"

"The poor guy fell in love with a slave." The regret in Ambrose's voice tinged the air. "Quite a knockout, from what I've heard. But she was one of Zero's stock. You can imagine what happened to her, recalling how kind he was to you."

"He killed her?"

"Once he found out that she was carrying on an affair with Bixby behind his back, yes. He left her body inside of Bixby's shop for him to find the next morning. Needless to say, the man decided that working in the Palace no longer suited his tastes. With all the information and insight that he had about the Palace, he became one of the Resistance's greatest assets."

"That would sway me too." Cain nodded.

Ambrose bobbed his head in agreement. "Kalaba is the only person in this unit that hasn't had some dealing with the Palace in any direct form. He's just a kid that has enough brains in his head to understand right from wrong. Give him ten annuals and he would make a fine General."

"I don't see how that justifies my lack of skills." The blond pointed out.

"All of these men began at the Palace. They had a history there, which led them to become very good at what they do. You, Wyatt, joined up with the Resistance under different circumstances. While it's true that the monsters from the Palace came and terrorized your village, they did not harm you directly. You did not experience the complete brutality of that place until your capture. You were a rancher that became a soldier that became a slave within a moon cycle's time. Though your brawling skills are undoubtedly superior, that doesn't qualify as a skill for a proper soldier. You still have some training to do."

"You think that a guy like me is going to be able to learn new things at my age?" Cain asked in amusement.

"It's possible." Ambrose shrugged. "But if you are planning to return to ranching, rather than pursue a career in the military, then it doesn't make much sense to invest in trying to learn those new things. You might as well keep things the way that they are."

Cain considered that point. What Ambrose had said made perfect sense. If he wasn't going to remain in the Resistance, then there was no real purpose in learning how to become a better soldier. He could just get by with the skills that he had until his stint with the military was done. Ambrose mumbled something which Cain did not quite catch, leaning towards the smaller man. "What was that?"

Ambrose kept his voice at a low whisper to prevent the others from overhearing him. "I had said that if you wanted to leave, your best chance would be to do so at this next town. It's civilized enough that we can secure you a horse to ride back to your village. There is nothing beyond there besides the Northern post. Once we arrive at that point, it would be far more difficult for you to leave without some reprecussions."

"I haven't made up my mind yet if I am going or not." Cain answered. He understood perfectly what Ambrose was trying to tell him. If Cain wanted to get out of the military in a timely manner, doing it sooner was going to be much easier than later. Especially along this stretch between bases where only the men of the unit would even know that he had gone to begin with. "There's still some time before we reach that town. I'll know by then what I am going to do."

"Let me know as soon as you make up your mind, Wyatt." Ambrose stood slowly, touching him lightly on the shoulder. The general then moved back in the direction of the twins to get an update on their progress.

Cain watched his lover go, then scowled faintly to himself. The fire wavered dangerously as another breeze blew past, forcing the blond to have to save it again. This time when he poked at the wood, he did it with much more force.

~~~~~~

Ambrose's indulgent sigh drifted out of the bathroom as the man relaxed deeper into the hot water of the tub. He dropped his head back to rest against the lip, his eyes closing in an expression of utter enjoyment. "I missed this. This is by far a divine luxury."

"It's just a bath, Doc." Cain chortled softly as he stepped into the bathroom where the other man was hogging the tub and had managed to scrub down half a bar of soap. He dropped a few towels down next to the feet of the bathtub before reaching up to the buttons of his shirt. "I don't suppose that you're willing to share?"

"I could be persuaded." Ambrose said coyly, deliberately stretching his limbs out to fill more of the tub so as not to allow the blond any room. "Make a convincing argument."

Smirking, Cain took his time in finishing with the rest of his buttons. He watched Ambrose watch him undress, able to read the effect that it had on those brown eyes. Dropping the shirt to the floor, Cain stepped up to the edge of the tub and propped his hand on the porcelain lip on the opposite side of Ambrose's head, so that he could lean forward to hover above the other man. Cain's face inched close, mouth lingering just above his lover's until he felt the steady heat of Ambrose's breath. His eyes flickered down to those nearby lips, as Cain murmured huskily. "Let me in the bath?"

Ambrose swallowed thickly, his voice not as steady as it had been before. Cain's proximity had a way of causing that to happen. "Convinced. But try to remember to get undressed the rest of the way before coming in." He drew his legs back in so that Cain would have plenty of space, quickly pecking the blond's mouth with a kiss before Cain turned to finish undressing.

Cain was quick about stripping, not wanting to give Ambrose's impish streak a chance to become inspired between now and before he got into the tub. Luckily, the other man was once more intent upon scrubbing at his upraised arm with that much abused bar of soap, seeming fascinated by the mere presence of that lather. The water was nearly too hot for Cain's liking when he first tested it. He fought against that discomfort by sitting down swiftly in his half of the bathtub so that his skin would just have to get used to it that much faster.

"I hope that you intend to leave at least a sliver of that stuff for me to wash up with."

Ambrose's lips twitched, trying to look affronted. "You could have brought your own. First you invade my bath and now you demand my soap as well?" Dark eyes considered the bar in his hand, weighing his options and trying to decide if he were feeling that generous. "Okay. You can partake of my glorious soap on one condition."

Cain silently congratulated himself on being able to resist rolling his eyes. "What might that be, O' Divine Lathered One?"

"I get to use it on you." Ambrose nodded, outwardly grim in expression, though the dancing glint in his eyes was betraying him. "You might drop it with those clumsy fingers of yours. I refuse to take the risk."

"I'll accept the terms." Cain shook his head. Sometimes the mental workings of his lover baffled him. Yet he could remember the times when he had seen Ambrose behaving far differently from this good-humored, unpredictable lover, and certainly would not want to trade this warmer version for less confusion.

He twisted slowly around so that Ambrose could start with his back. In all honesty, Cain figured that it was probably better to leave this task to the former medic's more capable hands. Especially since the wound on his shoulder was still quite tender from the bullet which had nicked it. Ambrose used handfuls of water in order to get the blond's back wet, and when that bar of soap began to slid over his skin, Cain began to understand why his lover had missed it so obsessively. After weeks of being out in the rough wilderness, something as simple as soap felt like a caress of comfort.

"Your shoulder is healing well. There's going to be some scarring." Ambrose murmured behind him, Cain able to feel the man's lips press a tender kiss to the upper ridge of his shoulder near that healing wound.

"My first battle scar. Isn't that like a badge of honor?"

"Well, that depends." The bar of soap continued to dance over his back as the lather built up. "It could mean that you are a man who was honorably wounded in battle. Or it could mean that you are a clumsy idiot. What matters most is how well you can spin the story about how you got it in the first place."

"The yokels back home will be impressed regardless." Cain said with a chuckle, though it quieted as he felt that sliding bar pause in mid-pass. His smile fell away even when it resumed its progress.

"Made up your mind then, have you?" Ambrose asked in a pleasant voice, though Cain thought it sounded suspiciously forced. "It really will be easiest for you. Your trip back home will be cut a considerable distance if your depart from here."

"About two days on horseback." The blond said lightly. His lover had moved up from his back to his shoulders, cautiously working around that wound, the bar of soap flinching away each time Cain jerked in response to a twinge of pain from the cleaning. "If I leave in the morning, I'll be back home in time for dinner."

Ambrose bent in close to his work, taking the opportunity to examine the fading wound better. "They've all probably missed you, I'm sure. You'll be the hometown hero."

"The little restaurant there used to make the most delicious home-made butter biscuits that you could ever taste in your life." Cain said quietly. "We have the best view of the mountains on this side of the O.Z. On a clear summer day, you'd swear that you could see all the way to the Gap. It's by far the most peaceful plot of land that a man might build a life upon. It would be a real shame not to have anyone there to share all that with."

That bar of soap paused again as Ambrose blinked at the back of the blond's head. He smiled faintly, sadly, before working up another circle of lather on the nape of Cain's neck. "It's too bad that I don't know a thing about ranching. I'm not sure that I could even live a life without all this excitement. Plus, I could hardly leave the Resistance right now during such a critical time."

Cain's eyes dropped to the water of the tub in front of him. "Yeah..." Ambrose rinsed off the fresh coating of lather and when it was finished Cain made a motion to rise. "I should probably get packed up if I'm going to--" He blinked when Ambrose's hand clamped down hard on his uninjured shoulder, surprising force put behind the effort as the smaller man kept Cain firmly planted in his spot.

"Don't." Ambrose said curtly. Cain could hear a trace of anger in that single word. "I've made myself very clear this entire time, Wyatt. You aren't allowed to get up and retreat just because I intend to stick to my original intentions. The one parting here is you."

Cain found himself a little angry now too. "Look, I'm not--"

"Yes, you are." His lover's voice was reproachful, but Ambrose would not relent on his grip enough for Cain to turn around and face him. "You are behaving as if I've rebuked you in continuing this relationship. I am not going to allow you to saddle me with the blame. It's your own desires for the future that have worked against you here."

"How's that?"

"I'd like to think that I have a pretty good grasp on you, Wyatt, and how you operate. Your character is pretty straightforward. Some part of your mind decided that things were going to turn out closer to your personal ideal. You're the sort of man who settles on his own plot of land, in a house built by his own hands, with a doting wife and several healthy children running around your feet. I bet you've been trying to figure out how I would fit into that picture, aren't you?"

"We could live together, Ambrose. It'd be a good life. A safe life, away from all this mess."

Ambrose snorted derisively. "Once again you prove how little about me you know, Wyatt. Just because that is your ideal for living doesn't mean that it's mine. I couldn't go back to living a quiet life. I'm not sure that I want to, either. This has become my life now, for all its trials."

"So you are telling me 'no', then."

"I'm telling you that I never agreed upon that kind of conclusion. You're being unfair expecting me to change so drastically, without even attempting to compromise. It is either 'stay' or 'go' with you, isn't it?"

Cain shook his head. "I don't want to stay in the Resistance. The experience in the Palace was horrible. I want to go back to my quiet life where horrors like that don't exist."

"Then go. No one is going to force you to stay, Wyatt. Everyone is free to make their decision on whether they stick with this cause or leave it. My decision, obviously, is to stay."

Cain rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands, frustrated. He had not intended for their last night together to dissolve into an argument like this. Ambrose was doing nothing more than being truthful with him, and he was responding to that sincerity by behaving like a spoiled child in a tantrum. He dropped his hands down into the water with a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry. You're right. I guess I am being unfair to you by trying to make this decision for both of us. I thought that maybe I could convince you to come away with me back to my home."

Ambrose's grip finally softened, as he pat Cain's shoulder gently. The blond twisted to look back at him, met with a tiny melancholy smile. "Trust me, Wyatt. It does sound like it would be lovely. If I were some pretty little damsel with fairytale dreams, I would jump on the opportunity to share your cozy little life. But I'm no damsel, and I don't have dreams, and I wouldn't know the first thing about how to deal with a life like that."

"But we love each other." Cain pointed out. "It's not like we can just.. go our separate ways this easily."

Reaching over, Ambrose touched his finger to the tip of Cain's nose. "I guess we'll be writing a lot of letters back and forth. You can regal me with heroic tales of cattle wrestling."

"Rustling, not wrestling." He stared at his lover, trying to determine if exchanging letters was going to be enough to keep him content. Of course he knew that it wouldn't remotely compare to having Ambrose with him. "Maybe you might change your mind one of these days?"

"I wouldn't entirely rule it out." Ambrose shook his head. "I never said that my future here was set in stone. It's just that I don't intend to leave it any time soon." Leaning forward, he brushed his lips against Cain's. "Perhaps I will start to miss you so much that I will end up changing my mind sooner rather than later."

"That'd be nice." Cain glanced down, pursing his lips before changing the subject. "The water is getting cold. Are we continuing with the bath or did you have something else in mind?"

Ambrose stared at him at length before nodding. "Race you to the bed."

"You're on."

~~~~~~~~~

The sky was clear the next morning when they gathered downstairs to finish with the last of their tasks. Bixby had been put in charge of securing horses for them; no one asked him how he had managed to pull it off, yet they were greeted with enough to carry them all. Even a hulking beast of a horse for Myron had been garnered. Ambrose examined the horses with a critical eye while the Cook brothers secured the last of their supplies to the saddlebags. "Good work, Bix. These will do just fine."

He took hold of the reins of one of the horses, leading it over to where Cain was standing a little off from the group. Ambrose patted the mare approvingly as he offered it to the blond. "She should carry you swiftly."

"Thanks." Cain murmured, fingers brushing the other man's as he took hold of the leather. The mare seemed obedient. He could tell that she was a good animal. "I guess this is when I take my leave, huh?"

"Yes." Ambrose drew in a deep breath, lashes fluttering as he blinked rapidly a few times. Trying to maintain his composure as best he could. "May you find good fortune and happiness at the end of your road, Fighter Cain."

"You too, General Ambrose." The blond responded quietly. He looked away sharply in order to focus on the horse, since it was much easier than looking at Ambrose's face right now. Cain fit his foot in the stirrup, pulling himself up into the saddle.

"Wait, he's leaving?" Kalaba scowled in confusion, taking a few steps closer to stand beside Ambrose. "General? You're letting him just up and leave?"

"Fighter Cain has made his decision to return to civilian living, Fighter Kalaba. There is no rule against not respecting a man's wishes." Ambrose turned slightly towards the younger man with a small smile. "Each one of you is free to leave at any time that you wish. I'm not going to keep you where you don't want to be. That is the mentality of those who we liberated ourselves from, after all."

The men of Ambrose's unit exchanged looks between themselves. Cain's pale eyes watched them all, as he found a steady grip on the reins. Myron folded his arms together like two thick logs. "With all due respect, General. We ain't here just because we choose to be. We're here because it is the right place to be, until we see this through to the end. Ain't any of us going to walk away, Sir."

"Cowardly."

They all looked in the direction of where that muffled declaration had come from. Tam's black eyes blinked blandly back at their shocked faces, before the silent one returned to studying the buildings around them as if they were a distraction.

"Gentlemen." Ambrose said firmly. "While I greatly appreciate your support, insinuating that Mister Cain's decision is an act of cowardice is an unfair judgment." He turned back towards Cain, looking up at the blond. "Don't let them get to you. Go on ahead, Wyatt."

Cain's gaze stretched past Ambrose to where the others stood staring at him distantly. Bixby shifted his weight on a hip and tipped him a mocking salute. The blond's jaw firmed up, before he deliberately fixed his eyes on Ambrose. "I'll .. write soon."

"Do that." The general nodded, forcing another smile. He raised his hand in a parting gesture, before turning back towards the rest of his men. "Let's not forget that we also have a trip to take. Do we have everything secur--"

There was a sharp crack of sound, like thunder splitting the air. Ambrose's words were cut off with a surprised grunt as Tam abruptly dove against him and sent them both to the dusty ground of the street. That lithe figure was already rolling up with their momentum, knife drawn out into one hand as Tam poised in front of where Ambrose lay in a daze. "Um... Tam?"

Cain's mare had reared up in response to the noise, the blond struggling to calm the animal as it whirled around. He looked down to the general before another one of those loud cracks sounded again. His head whipped in that direction in time to see the curling smoke of: "Gun fire! Someone's shooting from the buildings across the street."

"Two. Maybe three." Tam said muffledly, calmly watching as a bullet bit at the ground close to his right foot. "Poor shots. Heavy armor. Guards."

Virgil and Morgan had already unholstered their guns. Morgan tucked the butt end of a lengthy rifle underneath his arm, sighting up the line of the barrel in the direction where those shots had come. Virgil dropped to a knee beside his twin, both hands steadily clutching his handgun was he squinted up against the spill of sunlight which obscured their enemy from immediately being located.

Kalaba moved to assist Ambrose back up to his feet, pulling the general alongside him. The young man yelped when a few shots ripped into the wood of the building behind them, sending shards of it blasting into his face. Ambrose reached to his holster for his own gun in order to draw it out, as another bullet whizzed past his shoulder. He blinked at the hole that it carved into the structure before quickly pushing Kalaba off the length of his arm in order to distance the young man from himself. Losing his balance from the push, Kalaba fell over in a tangle of gangly limbs. "General!"

Both Myron and Bixby had already charged their way across the street to find the men shooting at them. Ambrose saw that the path of the bullets did not follow them. In fact, the shots seemed to be coming deliberately. It inspired a sudden theory. He ducked down behind one of the horse stalls as another few bullets came at him, though Virgil and Myron were now answering those shots with their own.

Ambrose found himself being driven down again as bullets began to punch through the wood, as the familiar bulk of Cain flattened them both to the hay-strewn ground of the stables. He shut his eyes tightly as splinters of wood showered over them, clutching at Cain's coat as Ambrose discovered himself on the verge of panic.

There was a hoarse cry of pain from somewhere across the street, before a Guard came sailing out from an upper-story window. Myron's bulk filled that opening as he watched the man go tumbling down to crunch painfully below. Virgil and Morgan raised their weapons to avoid shooting any friendly targets. A few shots sounded inside another of the rooms in that opposite building. Bixby stuck his head out through the window moments later, signaling to the twins that he'd felled the other two. Virgil holstered his weapon first and hurriedly approached the stable. "General, are you injured?"

"No." Ambrose said breathlessly as Cain rolled off of him, the blond helping him to sit up as the general looked up at Virgil, white-faced. "Is everyone else okay?"

"We're all fine." Kalaba said as he flashed a signal back to Bixby and Myron. "They got the Guards. This attack seemed a lot more precise than their last. Before, it seemed like they were just attacking because we had stumbled across each other."

"Not an attack." Tam said blankly, assisting Cain with hauling Ambrose up to his feet.

Ambrose nodded. "Tam's right. It wasn't just a random attack." His eyes turned to where the Guard which Myron had thrown out the window was shifting on the street. The man's limbs were twisted to awkward angles, several bones obviously broken. Ambrose drew his gun out and walked away from them all with determined strides.

The man's eyes flared open when Ambrose came near, gnarled fingers reaching shakily for the discarded gun which lay just within reach. He choked out a sound of intense pain when the general planted a booted foot on the ridge of the man's collarbone. Ambrose's eyes were ablaze with anger as he stared down at the injured Guard. With both hands, he aimed the barrel of his gun straight down at the man's bloody face. "Now that I have your undivided attention, I'm going to ask you some questions."

With hatred in his pain-filled eyes, the Guard spat out a mouthful of blood all over Ambrose's poised foot. "Go to hell, traitor."

"I was making an attempt at being polite." Ambrose murmured, shaking his head as he looked down at his wet boot top. "I forgot that you peons were hired for your muscles and not your brains." He shifted his foot from the man's chest to where the Guard's broken left arm lay twisted on the ground. Ambrose stamped his boot down on that incorrect angle, hearing the crack of the bones within and the resulting howl of pain which ripped out of the man on the ground. "Fortunately, I readily remember how you monsters conducted your business. I'm sure that being on the receiving end of this treatment is an enlightening experience, hm?"

"Wh-what do you... w-want to know?" The Guard choked out. Pain was something that even these degenerates could understand.

"This wasn't a random attack, was it? You came here with a purpose."

"Yes. To k-kill you."

"Kill me? So this was an assassination attempt?" Ambrose scowled as the man proved his theory to be correct by his admission. "How did you know to find us here? Who told you that we were traveling north?" He bent his foot, circling the toe of his boot into that break to probe it more thoroughly.

The Guard shook his head wildly. His chest began to heave from the increasing pain. "D-don't know. Just f-following orders!"

Ambrose narrowed his eyes down at the man. Then he raised the barrel of his gun, removing his foot off the Guard as he took a step back. "I'll find that out on my own, then. Now. If you lay still like a good boy, I just might ask the innkeeper to get a doctor to come and shovel you off the ground here. Otherwise, the twins over there would be happy to shoot you. Understand?"

He got a nod in response, as the man relaxed into a mass of pain. Ambrose bent to pick up the man's discarded gun just in case before he returned to where the others were standing nearby. The general shook his head, face taut. "I knew it. A few random attacks in the wilderness, I could believe. However, I have come to the conclusion that none of them were entirely random."

Bixby and Myron had returned, the former nodding quickly. "They are either damned lucky to keep finding us, or we are damned unlucky to keep running into them."

"Or they know that we are traveling this way." Kalaba concluded, scowling. He turned to Ambrose, apologetic. "General. I feel completely at fault for having guided us into a trap like this."

"None of it has been your fault, Kalaba. You've done very well. I could not have asked for a better navigator. We simply have forces working against us. Inside forces."

Myron grunted darkly. "Someone inside the Resistance is a traitor."

Ambrose nodded solemnly. He looked around at all of his men, and at Cain who stood close to his side. "And that someone has marked me for extermination, which means that it must be someone in the higher ranks. Otherwise, they wouldn't know that I was the General. I'm sure we'll get more answers once we reach the north. We will proceed beyond this point with the utmost caution. Our breaks will be few. Mount up, gentlemen."

"Yes, Sir!" They echoed, before turning to collect their horses. Ambrose moved to follow, but Cain grabbed hold of his arm and stopped him.

"I have a horse. She'll carry us both comfortably."

"I'm not running away to your village, Wyatt." Ambrose murmured.

"I know that." Cain nodded determinedly. "You're going north. And you're riding there with me watching your back, General."

Ambrose's strained face colored with surprise, before he looked quickly aside. "You don't have to stay and protect me. I know how to take care of myself in circumstances like this. As I said last night, I'm no damsel."

"And I'm no coward." The blond said firmly. "If someone inside the Resistance is really intending to see you assassinated on the way to the North, then I intend to stay until we're both confident that you are out of danger."

Those words made Ambrose smile, warmth chasing away some of the fear in his eyes. He nodded slowly before reaching to take hold of the reins of the mare which he was going to share with Cain. The blond tapped him on the shoulder as Ambrose's muscles tensed to pull himself up, as Cain shot a look in the direction of the Guard laying there in the street. "You going to get that doctor for him?"

Ambrose followed the blond's gaze in that direction. Then he shrugged passionlessly. "There's internal damage. His eyes are already filled with blood. Even if I operated on him myself, right this second, he's beyond saving. If you feel sympathy towards him, which I don't..." The general drew his gun back out of its holster, offering it to Cain, "...then this is the best remedy to his situation, Fighter Cain."

With a slow nod, the blond took hold of that weapon. "I'll be right back, Doc."

The Experiment: Public.

Wed, 14 May 2008 04:36:48 GMT

It had been an unusually arid season, which left the O.Z. sweltering hot in the late summer. Even the nights persisted in maintaining those high temperatures. The weather was uncomfortable enough that most inhabitants occupied their time indoors, where the climate was more stable thanks to the cooling pipelines which ran into the grid of Central City's buildings. Of course, given the sprawling metropolis and its imposing size, not every place could be attached to that system.

This bar was one of those locations. As muggy inside as it was out. The humidity was only increased by the bodies that were inside the darkened interior, many of them moving together to the music that was being played by the band. In this seedy part of the district, this band did not play the hokey, charming tunes famous in the O.Z. They played something rough and dirty, music so loud that it vibrated the boards of the dance floor. It was music that had a pulsing beat, the style perfectly suited to the movements of the dancers in the center of the tavern, their bodies undulating in the vague mockery of intimacy, close and sweaty where they brushed together without inhibition.

Cain stuck firm on his stool, remote from the dancers as he watched them performing. He felt awkward being in this place, already having downed two shots of potent liquor in order to boost his confidence, letting the influence of the alcohol take the edge off his nerves. The heat inside of the place had made him break into a sweat, his clothes sticking to him in places. Cain plucked at his shirt, finally forced to unlock the first three buttons just to get some air to his chest. His hat sat on the bartop next to him. It was too damned hot to wear it, considering how often he was having to wipe sweat off his forehead.

He felt a twist somewhere low in his body as a familiar figure detached itself from the cluster of dancers, sauntering towards him with a sinuous grace. Cain found that slim frame wedging itself between him and the next stool. The blond let his gaze run up the length of that body, surreptitiously appreciating the view.

Glitch's hair was matted with sweat, a few curls of brown clinging to the edges of his face, flushed now from exertion. The headcase stretched up on his toes, the bottom of his shirt pulling up to reveal an expanse of pale flesh across the bottom of his torso. Cain could see that it was glistening with sweat, beads of it clinging to the downy dark hairs which crept a teasing trail down beneath the hem of Glitch's trousers. The man's eyes were the color of chocolate, heated with excitement from the thrill of such risque dancing, as Glitch searched for the drink which Cain had waiting. He tipped it back, exposing the graceful arch of his neck. Cain licked his lips as his eyes skimmed over that flesh, as if remembering how it tasted. He forced a cough to guarantee that his voice would be steady. "You about ready to go, Glitch?"

"Guess so." Came the answer, as the zipperhead pouted slightly, rolling his hip to rest against the front of the bar as Glitch locked that bright gaze on the blond. "Are you sure that you won't dance with me, Cain?"

"Too many people out there, sweetheart." The tin man murmured, his mind imagining scenarios that had nothing to do with dancing, but still held the same kind of heated motions. "And you know that I don't dance."

Glitch grunted in frustration, cheeks puffing out an exasperated breath. Then, with a blink, something sparked inside of that zippered head. One hell of an idea. Frustration transformed into a wicked smile as he looked the tin man over. "Fine. In that case, I'll dance for the both of us."

Cain sat back in his stool, back pressing to the lip of the bar as he found Glitch's body invading his personal space more thoroughly than usual. The headcase stepped up onto the rungs of Cain's seat, feet stancing themselves on either side of the blond. Looking up to the one now towering over him, Cain frowned uncertainly. "Glitch? What are y--" He was cut off by a long finger that pushed against his lips, falling quiet.

"Let me dance with you, Cain." Glitch said quietly, something about his voice making that tug low in Cain's gut repeat. He removed his finger, lashes falling to mask his eyes as Glitch let the music pounding behind him guide his body to find its rhythm. His mouth had settled into a tiny blissful smile. Then Glitch started to move, and it was anything but innocent.

Cain kept his hands stationed on his lap, fingers clutching together as Glitch began to dance. He watched the headcase's thin body twist, hips swinging sensuously back and forth. Glitch's thighs were bumping against the outside of the blond's knees, effectively boxing him in place for the display. Cain's eyes couldn't decide where to rest, hypnotized by the motions of those hips, then drawn to watching the progress of Glitch's hands as the headcase slid them lightly over his torso, Cain able to see more of that pale skin when Glitch's fingers danced back up and dragged the bottom of his shirt with them.

The muscles of that exposed stomach moved flawlessly under the headcase's command. Cain's fingers twitched, wanting to touch that slick skin, yet afraid what making contact with Glitch right now would do to his self-control. He forced himself only to watch, still as stone, schooling his face to its usual stoic mask. If he let himself do anything else, then he was most certainly going to end up undone. Cain was distracted by the irony that despite the fact Glitch commonly tripped over his own feet, the headcase currently showed perfect balance where he hovered above the blond's lap.

Glitch's eyes were closed, completely absorbed in the dance. They slit open as he took his hands away from his torso and braced them against the bar on either side of Cain. It allowed him to lean in closer to the heat radiating from the tin man, Glitch's body drawn in by that subtle electric pull. Cain was unable to help a low groan as he felt Glitch close some of that precious distance that his control was using as a barrier. He could smell the scent of the headcase, the subtle hints of earth and alchemy masked by sweat. Glitch's lips were parted, his mouth open next to Cain's ear, breaths coming in heated pants directly into that shell. Cain could imagine soft sighs and ghosted whimpers mingled between those racing gasps for air.

He had to drop his hands to his sides when Glitch altered the dance. The headcase's hips were now swinging forward with a languid rolling grace, coming dangerously close to where the tin man's hands had been resting. Glitch surged his hips forward over Cain's lap, the inch between their bodies burning hotter than the suns, scorching the tin man's nerves while he struggled to keep his cool. There was no mistaking what the headcase's dance simulated, Glitch even dropping his head back with a tiny gasp of delight as the music grew in its intensity. He knew that he was probably behaving unfairly towards Cain with such a display, yet Glitch was determined to enjoy himself. His head dropped back forward in order to check on whether or not Cain was enjoying the dance as much as he was.

Glitch's synapses crackled; he nearly forgot how to breathe. He was snared by piercing blue, those pools luring him into their depths, and the water was hot to the touch as it swallowed him up. Cain was equally riveted by what he saw in the headcase's brown eyes. Lust, need, all the promises of what that talented body could deliver. Glitch's gaze told him, candidly, that it was his for the taking.

The last thread of his willpower snapped.

Cain's hands clamped onto Glitch's hips, using them as handles to guide that body down on his, arching his own hips up to press their groins together. Glitch was just deliciously hard, welcoming the friction as Cain's fingers splayed around to clutch the headcase by the ass, forcing those rolling hips to lock down on his lap. Glitch's response was a moan of delight, which would have been loud if not for the music to drown its volume.

Leaning up, Cain fused his mouth with that throat which had teased him earlier, tongue lapping at the tang of sweat which slicked that flesh. Glitch had not given up on the dance, hips rolling more intently now in Cain's grip, building up the friction, driving Cain closer to insanity with the frustration of their pants to bar them from that final contact. He clutched his lover closer, until the headcase had to abandon those deliberate motions, as Glitch was only able to rock against him on Cain's lap. Cain smiled against Glitch's throat as he heard those tiny gasps which his imagination had conjured earlier, finding them even sweeter in reality.

Glitch fit both hands to the back of Cain's head, clutching the blond desperately close as their bodies rocked together, holding nothing of their passion back, the dance so powerful that the stool beneath them creaked steadily in protest. Cain's desire was concentrated and quiet, only occasionally grunting with exertion, face taut. Glitch was far less reserved, the impressions of pleasure flitting openly across his visage, his moans going unchecked, as he started the mantra of the tin man's name that the blond knew signaled how close the headcase was to climax. "Cain. Cain. Cain. Cain!"

The last tore out of him hoarsely as Glitch lost control of his rhythm, bucking wildly against his lover, body rocked by a series of violent tremors as he submitted eagerly to release. It was enough to shred through Cain's resolve, the blond biting down on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood as he tightened his hold on those bucking hips, pinning Glitch in place as his own bucked up from the stool, Cain certain that his eyes were going to get stuck up in his skull when they rolled back in his head.

When it was over, Glitch became a limp weight on Cain's lap, the headcase dropping his head down on the blond's shoulder as they panted for breath, trying to get their bodies to recover. Then Glitch's shoulders began to shake, as he giggled breathlessly. "Wow. That was certainly something!"

"You can say that again." Cain answered weakly, as he hugged that smaller frame close to him. They were sticky with sweat and now with cum. "We should get cleaned up. Maybe take a shower."

"Good idea." Glitch nodded against Cain's shoulder, before reluctantly peeling himself back to sit up on the blond's lap. He looked around them with a sated grin. "You know, I'm really glad that I invented this holographic technology. That was far more exciting than it should have been, pretending to do that in public and all."

The blond reached back behind him to push a button, as the tavern around them vanished. Cain blinked around at the laboratory that appeared in its place as reality was restored. "Well, of course. You wouldn't really do anything like that in public, would you?"

Tilting his head, Glitch considered the idea. Then, much to Cain's shock, the headcase shrugged nonchalantly. "Wouldn't be so bad. So long as you're there with me."

"Oh my.." Not sure whether to feel scandalized or not, Cain slid forward. He fit his hands underneath Glitch's thighs, hearing his lover purr with delight as the headcase locked his ankles at the base of Cain's back, so that the tin man could comfortably carry him in the direction of the bathroom. "So, how many different scenarios did you say that you could program into that thing again?"

"Limitless." Glitch promised. "Maybe if you're good to me, I might get inspired in the shower, and we'll see what fun place I can surprise you with next, hm?"

Cain chuckled quietly, leaning up for a quick kiss. "Sweetheart, that sounds great. Just somewhere a little cooler next time, okay?"

"Agreed!"

Happiness in Slavery? or UC2 - Part One

Wed, 07 May 2008 06:11:41 GMT

Their voyage to the north was not as uneventful as they had initially hoped. They had heard scattered reports that clusters of hostiles littered the trails between the Central Resistance Camp and the Northern post. However, the reports were sketchy at best, with no true estimation of how much threat they provided. Not more than a day into the trip, they had already come upon a cell of Guards who had survived the fall of the Palace, those soldiers pinning their unit down with gunfire.

Cain dove down behind the cover of the brush, as a series of bullets went skimming over the top leaves, showering the blond with green bits. He was panting from the run it had taken to bring him here, as the man rolled onto his back in order to shift his attention to reloading his gun. The enemy was still riddling their area with heavy fire, making it close to impossible to make any headway on their journey north.

He heard a voice calling towards him from behind a tree a distance back. Ambrose. The man's concern was obvious under the commanding tone, "Wyatt!? You better be undamaged, pulling a stunt like that, Fighter Cain!"

"So far, so good." Cain shouted back in that direction, twisting his head in the direction where the other was hidden. Belatedly, he added, "Sir!"

"Stay put, and that's an order." The general warned him, and the blond knew that if he dared to disobey that command, he'd have more to worry about than enemy bullets. There was a lapse in fire from the enemy, as they reloaded their weapons for the next volley. It was during those few precious moments that Cain found himself getting joined there behind the brush, as the slim figure of Ambrose came dropping down beside him on the ground.

Cain found himself being glared at by those dark eyes, while the general expertly opened his gun with one hand, checking the chamber to make a quick count of how many rounds he had left before needing to reload. The blond smirked. "Is this exciting enough for your grand return to active duty?"

"I think I'd much prefer to be spending my day examining patients, rather than dodging what these bastards are shooting at me." The former Medic answered darkly, brow locked in a constant scowl as he tried to catch sight of the enemy through the brush. Ambrose squinted his left eye shut, shifting onto his stomach as he stretched his gun out in front of him. As Cain watched, the man managed to shoot one of the distant men in a shoulder, disabling the enemy's firing arm. That injured figure howled in pain, falling to the side, while Ambrose murmured, "The beauty of being trained in the medical field, however, is that I know where the bullets will hurt the worst."

"You do understand that we are shooting to kill here, right? I doubt they're wrestling with your pacifist issues, General."

Ambrose shot him a withering look, but Cain was already following up the man's shots with his own, picking two men off with more critical shots to their torsos. The other men in their unit were cutting down the rest, Cain glad that Ambrose had the foresight to believe that they'd need the assistance on their journey to the Northern Resistance Camp. While the corruption of the Palace was a thing of the past, it was still a wild, wild wilderness out in the O.Z.

Once the pace of the shots coming their way had scattered, Cain took the chance of pushing up onto a knee. At this angle, he was able to see his enemy more clearly, so that the shots which he sent their way were more selective. Making the bullets count. He had well-trained men at his back, so it wasn't long until they had managed to silence the enemy altogether.

Beside him, Ambrose stirred, preparing to push up to his feet to check if the area were clear. A hand on his shoulder stopped him short, Cain giving the man a hard look. "I'll check. You wait here."

"But, Wyatt..!"

"Don't argue. I know what I'm doing."

The blond eased up carefully, gun held ready in his hand. His blue eyes searched the area for any sign of life from their enemy. The men who had attacked them were strewn out, dead or wounded. Victorious in the fight, they had successfully culled the threat. Cain turned slowly back to the brush, able to see Ambrose peeking around the brush, intently watching the blond. He nodded back to the crouched man. "It looks like everything's clea--"

There was a shot from nearby, Cain grunting as he felt an explosion of pain in his left shoulder, the force of it knocking him forward to stumble a step. He heard Ambrose shout out his name, before the general returned his own shot, and Cain heard the last enemy cry out in pain before spilling over to the ground. Despite Ambrose's dislike in killing, the man had managed to make that shot land a direct hit in the Guard's face. Maybe the general was getting used to it?

Ambrose was already hurrying up from behind the brush, running over to where the blond lay on the ground. He saw Cain clutching at his shoulder where the bullet had struck him. "Damnit, Wyatt! Now look what you've done!" The man's gun was dropped to the side, Ambrose reaching back to his belt as he withdrew a small knife. It sliced into the black sleeve of Cain's uniform, cutting away the fabric around where that blood had gathered.

Cain blinked dazedly up at the man. "What? I didn't get shot on purpose."

The general's face was concentrated as he tended to Cain, other men from the unit moving around them to check if it were truly clear and to tend to their own wounded. Cain could hear fabric tearing as Ambrose yanked at his sleeve, the general's pallor white as a ghost. He saw the former Medic slump slightly with relief, as Ambrose saw the extent of the damage. "Just a graze. You're one damn lucky man, Fighter Cain."

Ambrose quickly bunched up that torn sleeve into a wad of fabric, calling blindly to one of the other soldiers. "Give me a bottle of alcohol, quick. How many are down?"

"Two dead, three wounded, Sir." One of the men answered quickly, while another slapped a bottle into Ambrose's waiting hand. The general scowled upon hearing the news about the wounded and casualties, soaking Cain's shirt sleeve in the alcohol to make it more sterile.

"You're going to reek of whiskey. Can't be helped. Now hold this against the wound, and get one of these men to bind that, Wyatt. I need to check on the others." He patted Cain on his uninjured shoulder, pushing himself up as Ambrose hurried off in the direction of where those wounded men lay.

~~~~~~~~~

He found Ambrose later, when the general had finished tending to the wounded. The dark-haired man was crouched at the edge of a small stream, using a cloth to wipe off his forearms, the rag stained red from his efforts. Cain ambled over to stand near the man, deliberately making his steps audible on the pebbles to alert the general to his presence. "Hey.."

"I'm sending the wounded back to the other camp." Ambrose murmured, angling his eyes briefly up to Cain before focusing back on his cleaning efforts. "They'll survive -- though I worry that without proper care, Fighter Getz will probably end up losing that leg."

"I'd say that they were fortunate to have you here with them, General." Cain responded, as he eased down to sit on the rocks beside Ambrose. He watched as the man continued to scrub, before leaning over to snatch that bloodied rag out of the general's hand. "Here. Let me. You're just making a mess."

Ambrose didn't protest, wryly looking down to the water flowing past them, as he said quietly, "I'm used to having anesthetics for pain, balms for wounds, wonderous medical devices at my fingertips. And soap, to clean off with. At this moment, I miss the soap most of all."

Cain chuckled quietly at the man's complaint. He dipped the rag into the stream, until it was heavy with clean water. With a careful grip, Cain raised Ambrose's closest arm into his care. He slid the rag over it, tenderly wiping off the blood of his comrades. "I'm sure that they'll have soap up north. If not, you can probably put in a request. You're just having to adjust back to the simple ways of life that us normal folk live."

"True." The man's dark eyes had shifted from the stream in order to watch Cain's progress, Ambrose musing on the contrasts of their flesh, seasoned tan and startling pale. He flickered his eyes up to the blond's face, Cain intent upon his work. "You saved me from a bullet today, Wyatt. That soldier would have shot me instead if I had come out like I intended to."

"That's my job, isn't it? To keep my superior officer from getting himself killed." The blond smiled faintly, touching his gaze to Ambrose's.

"It would also make you a rather poor lover, if you went and let me get killed." Ambrose pointed out, as he leaned down towards the other man in order to press a kiss to Cain's mouth, which the blond accepted warmly.

"The tent would be colder." Cain mumbled against the general's mouth, since Ambrose seemed intent on not having this be a quick kiss, as the man's hands cupped the blond's face between them to angle his head better. Any other witty remarks could wait, so long as he had that mouth on his to enjoy.

Ambrose pulled back a few inches, his breath hot against Cain's face. His brown eyes were growing hotter as they swept over the blond, whispering, "This is going to be difficult, you know. Behaving myself until we get to the new camp. It still feels like a honeymoon."

"Without the whole marriage part of it. But I can sympathize, sweetheart. I want you, too."

The general sighed, as he noticed that Cain had finished getting him cleaned off. Ambrose began to roll down his sleeves, before his attention locked on the fabric tied around Cain's shoulder. "How's your shoulder?"

"Hurts something fierce. I think I'll survive, Doc."

Ambrose chuckled softly at the title, as he cautiously unwound the torn bandage from the wound. He frowned as he did, shaking his head. "A monkey could have tied this better. There is hardly any pressure being put against the graze. You're lucky that this didn't bleed all over the place."

"Well.. I tied it, actually."

"Oh.." The general blinked. "That would explain it. I thought that I had taught you better than this, Wyatt." He shook his head at the blond, adjusting the strip so that it embraced that gash better, tying it far more professionally than Cain. "There. That will last through the night. I'll change it for you tomorrow."

"Thanks, Doc. So, what now?"

Ambrose pulled Cain up with him, as he began to return to where they had set up their camp for the night. "Now we go and get some sleep." He gave the blond a coy look. "You want to bunk next to me tonight, Fighter Cain?"

"I would love to, General Ambrose." Cain smirked as he escorted the man back to the fires of their camp.

It took a few minutes for Ambrose to get settled. He had to make certain that everything in camp was ready for the night, including the arrangements for those soldiers who would be taking the night watch in shifts. Cain was laying back against the base of a tree, already dozing, when the general finally joined him. Ambrose slid down to the ground beside the blond, settling his weight against the solid warmth of his lover. In the space of the shadows between their bodies, Cain felt the general's fingers curl around his, one of the few displays of affection which they were allowed to share without anyone's notice.

The blond felt those brown curls spilling across his shoulder as Ambrose scooted closer, using the excuse of needing a place to rest his head as it lay down on Cain. It was soothing to Cain to feel the steady pulse of that warm breath against the skin of his throat. With that rhythm counting away the minutes, the blond managed to fall asleep.

~~~~~~~~~

It was early morning when a few capable soldiers were dispatched to take the wounded back to the other camp. A light frost had coated the area overnight, the atmosphere around them foggy with moisture. As the men finished strapping the injured soldiers to the small stretchers which they'd use for transport, Ambrose completed a check on their security to insure that the terrain would not jostle them too much along the way, potentially aggravating those injuries further. His breath was a steady cloud pouring into the air, as he quietly gave instructions to those who had been entrusted with the task of getting their comrades to safety. They moved out shortly before the suns had risen. Ambrose stood on the edge of the camp, remote from the others who stayed, and watched their progress until that distant fog had swallowed them.

He became aware of a presence beside him. Without even having to check, he knew that it was Cain. The man stood at his side in the cold morning as their comrades left. Cain braced his hands on his hips, blue eyes searching that distant spot where the others had gone. "I'm sure that they'll be fine. We cleared out most of the packs of resistance on our way here."

"I know." Ambrose nodded, face composed. "I'm worried more about the rest of us. Not even halfway through the journey, and I've already lost five men under my command. I wonder if I was as prepared to fulfill my duties as I had thought when I left the camp."

"No one here is going to question your judgement, Ambrose." The blond murmured, eyes angling sidelong to study the profile of his lover's pale face. "Your men trust you."

"That's the problem, Wyatt. I don't have complete confidence that I trust in myself." The general reached up to shake fingers through his dark curls. "I'm responsible for these men. They are looking to me to protect them. But I have spent the last decade better accustomed to how to protect just myself, rather than others." Ambrose smiled blandly with a glance towards Cain. "It kind of sounds like I'm whining, doesn't it?"

Cain shrugged in answer, wincing as the motion caused his sleeve to put pressure against his wound. "I wouldn't say that. It just kind of sounds like you're human, Doc. Everybody doubts themselves from time to time."

A dark eyebrow arched, dubious. "Even the infallible Fighter Wyatt Cain?"

"Especially him." That subtle tease made him chuckle, reaching up to rub a finger along the base of his nose where the cold had made it start to run.

Ambrose smiled, and this time it was not forced. Cain thought that when those smiles actually reached the general's eyes, they were quite beautiful. If he wasn't so inexperienced with giving those kind of compliments, he might have mentioned it to the other man. "Thank you, Wyatt. I'm really very glad that you're here. Even if we weren't... together, you are still the kind of man that inspires confidence in others." He reached up, patting him gratefully on his good arm.

As Cain let those words sink in, the general was stepping away from his side, voice lifting to call out to the others. "Let's get this camp packed up, men. I want this forest long at our backs by nightfall. Fighter Cain, you're with me: We're going to scout ahead and see if any more cowardly threats are hiding along the road. Gentlemen, we will be back within the hour. I want this plot of land looking like no one's ever touched it."

The men hurried to comply, many of them working to clean up the last bit of breakfast that they'd managed to scrounge up. Others began to wind up bedrolls, securing equipment, while Ambrose waved Cain ahead with him. They walked alongside each other, picking their way quietly across the foreign terrain. The forest was quiet around them aside from the little sounds of nature, birds calling occasionally in the fog.

Ambrose nodded in satisfaction as he heard those sounds, speaking quietly to the blond beside him. "The birds are singing. That's good. If there was a unit of Guards somewhere nearby, then they would be silent. When lost in the forest, it's a good practice to listen to the woods around you for some sign of danger. If the animals go quiet, that usually means that they have sensed a predator around. One or two people don't usually bother them. A cluster of humans tromping around the brush, though, would definitely cause a disturbance."

"Who taught you that?"

"The man who brought me into the military." Ambrose said absently, head turning left and right as his eyes scanned the area. "He had a lot of good information and skills which he taught me. I entered the Resistance knowing nothing aside from what I had read in books. In the reality of battle, remembering some text on a page does not necessarily guarantee survival. I learned that early on."

"Huh. I only joined recently, after some denizens of the Palace raided the town that I was living in. I'd gone out with some of my friends on a hunting trip up in the mountains. By the time we got back, they'd wrecked the place, taken or killed people that I had known all my life. That was all it took to convince me that it was time for some change in a world where that could happen."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Wyatt. I hadn't known. But thank you for telling me. Otherwise, I'd probably just believe that you enlisted because you liked getting into fights."

"Well, that too." Cain smirked to himself. "I had a bit of a reputation when I was younger. Got into plenty of brawls."

"You were a bully?"

"No. I was the one who came around and beat up the bullies." He grinned crookedly, looking over to Ambrose as the man laughed in response. "What, is that funny?"

Ambrose shook his head in amusement. "Just suits you is all. I can picture it perfectly in my head. Sturdy young Wyatt Cain, dirty-faced and determined, storming up to smash some righteous vengence down upon those stupid enough to victimize the less fortunate."

"I was never dirty-faced."

"Regardless, I could have used you in my childhood." Ambrose smiled as he shifted their direction. "I was popular with the bullies. Scrawny, pale, terribly nerdy. And some couldn't decide if I were a boy or a girl, so I suppose they channeled their confusion into picking on me."

Cain nodded. "And look at you now. You're a General in the Resistance Army of the O.Z. Though I guess it's still hard to tell sometimes if you're a boy or a gir--Ow!"

The blond was cut off by the other man, who had given him a firm sucker punch in the arm before he could finish his remark. Ambrose fired him a warning look, before pausing in his steps to look around them, considering. "I think it's going to be clear crossing through here, at least for a few leagues. We can head back and get the others rounded up once they are finished with striking camp."

Ambrose turned to head back in that direction, but a hand on his arm stopped him short. He glanced towards the blond as Cain drew him in close. "They probably won't be anywhere close to finished. No sense in hurrying back just to wait."

"After that comment of yours, do you really think that I'd--" The general's teasing voice was muffled abruptly by Cain's mouth swooping down to cover it. Which, considering the restrictions on their intimacy during this last week, managed to instantaneously erupt them into passion.

Their lips searched hungrily, tongues fencing together in a fight for domination as their mouths fused. Ambrose's hands shot up to clutch the back of Cain's head, using that firm touch to gain the upperhand in their tiny struggle, that pressure lasting until the blond finally relented to the kiss, so that Ambrose could probe the taller man's mouth at his leisure. Cain decided that he could tolerate losing the battle, so long as his lover did not stop making his head spin like this.

His hands slid around to lock behind Ambrose, using the bulk of his larger frame to push the man backwards. He heard the general grunt with a small shock of pain when Cain slammed his back up against a tree, the blond grinding forward mercilessly against his lover. If Ambrose wanted to command the kiss, then Cain was determined to command the rest. He felt the hands of his lover reaching for him, sensing that Ambrose was going to attempt turning the tables and taking the dominant position.

Cain snatched hold of those slim wrists, putting force behind his motions as he slapped Ambrose's arms back against the trunk of the tree, effectively pinning them into place as he growled out a warning against his lover's mouth, "No. Not today. Today, I am going to remind my body just how you feel inside."

"Oh gods, Wyatt..." Ambrose gasped out at the blond's firm statements, shuddering at the promise behind those words. His fingers curled over away from the tree, though he was unable to get a grasp on anything while Cain had him held like this. Still, there was more than one way to be in control of the sex. If not through the physical method, Ambrose still was a man of means.

He opened his eyes, locking them with Cain's piercing blues. Every bit of what he was feeling right now, the very turbulence of emotions burning through his system, Ambrose stamped it to perfection in that gaze. And once he saw the blond's eyes responding in kind, he knew that he could come out on top yet, voice husky but firm. "I want you to fuck me."

Just like that, Cain conceded the victory over to his lover, as he rushed to do nothing else but comply with the order. He nodded, face firm with concentration as he managed to get Ambrose clumsily undressed, though neither of them bothered removing garments that weren't inhibiting to the process. In retrospect, Ambrose would be thankful that they'd left his shirt on, because the rough bark of the tree digging into his back was painful.

Cain's hands roamed wildly over Ambrose's legs, the skin burning hot in comparison to the chill of the air around them. He dropped his face forward against the man's shoulder when Ambrose reached between their bodies to get Cain's pants open, fingers diving in to wrap around the heat of the blond's arousal. Cain twisted his mouth to caress his lover's throat, whispering raggedly, "We don't.. We don't have anything to.."

"I don't care." Ambrose whispered, beginning a motion with his hand that made Cain's entire body jerk as pleasure lanced down his spine.

"It'll hurt you."

He grunted as Ambrose's fingers tightened around him, squeezing almost painfully. Ambrose's teeth scraped against the shell of Cain's ear as he growled quietly, "Wyatt. If you put this off for one minute longer, then I intend to push you down on the ground and show how indifferent I am to the thought of a little pain right now. I want you. Take me." That firm hand expertly guided him, teasing him with the proximity of hot flesh, and Cain let his hesitation die.

The first thrust was painful. The second more agonizing. Ambrose grit his teeth against the pain, feeling like he were being split in two. He hissed in a low breath, twisting his hands so that his fingers could dig into the bark of the tree to ground himself from the ache. If he could endure through this, then it would be just what he wanted: No sweet words and gentle caresses, just a quick, hard fuck. Cain paused, opening his mouth, probably to ask something really stupid, like if he were hurting him. Ambrose prevented that by driving his tongue deep into the blond's mouth.

Cain's hips continued to thrust, setting a steady pace that quickly erased that pain, as the friction began to feel wonderful. They rocked together, Cain's weight heavy against his lover, overwhelming Ambrose as the man strained to accept the blond's passion. Ambrose rolled his head back against the tree, feeling it snag and pull at his hair as Cain's force rocked him up along the surface.

Then it was Cain who reached between them, clutching hold of Ambrose, adding to his lover's pleasure with quick strokes. It was a matter of pride for him, since he found himself so close to release, and would not be satisfied unless his lover gave in first. Ambrose panted raggedly, a low keening sound of pleasure rolling out of his chest as Cain's touch plugged into the outlets of his nerves like a surge of electricity. His thighs pressed tightly to the blond's hips as they bucked together.

"Give in to me." Cain grated at a hot whisper panted into Ambrose's hair. Every thrust became more intent, driving home his need. "Ambrose, give in."

Gasping, Ambrose nodded desperately, eyes dazed as he opened them to the sky, mouth open to unleash constant sounds of delight as he raced for his release. Cain urged him with hips and hand, having such precise skill that Ambrose was quickly overtaken. The blond sighed in relief when he felt his lover's body shuddering, bucking wildly away from the tree as much as it could, and Cain bit down on the ridge of Ambrose's shoulder as he thrust strongly forward for his own climax.

Cain continued to thrust, driving them through release, not wanting to let go of the little waves of pleasure until they had vanished completely. Only when it had passed did his hips slow to a stop, leaning his weight heavily against Ambrose, who put up no protest if he were getting crushed from it. Ambrose's hands slid forward in order to lock an embrace around Cain's neck, and their panting mouths touched together in a kiss that was tender where their lovemaking was not. At last, the general was dropping his head back against the tree, opening his eyes to fix Cain with a sated smile.

"Feel better now?" The blond asked, gaze warm where it passed over Ambrose's face.

"Yes and no." Ambrose whispered. "That sexual tension has been effectively taken care of, but I probably should have thought to stretch a bit ahead of time, since I have a feeling that I am going to be sore all over."

Cain's face darkened with concern. "I'm sorry. I did warn you.."

"It was worth it, Wyatt." His lover promised him, as Ambrose affectionately slid his fingers down Cain's face. "If you really want to make it up to me, then help me get dressed. I don't think I'm going to manage it on my own right now, and we really should be getting back to the others."

"Yes, Sir." Cain nodded, easing back to let Ambrose find his footing on the ground. He cleaned them off hurriedly, before securing his own pants. Ambrose was indeed having trouble keeping on his own two feet as the general struggled to get his own trousers back on. Cain assisted him, getting his lover back into some semblance of order. His eyes flickered to that nest of brown curls, eyeing all the bits of tree debris which littered it. "Your hair is a mess, sweetheart."

Ambrose reached both hands up, bending his head forward as he shook out as much of it as he could. He laughed quietly, still rather breathless. "It's all your fault. Any aftermath of pain, I take partial responsibility for, but the tangles in this mop I intend to hold you utterly accountable for, Fighter Cain."

"I'll take them as evidence of a job well done." Cain murmured, using a hand on Ambrose's elbow to keep the man steady as they made their way back in the direction of the camp.

~~~~~~~

"You know, something just occurred to me." Cain murmured as they walked along at the head of the unit, glancing towards Ambrose beside him. "I think earlier was the most that you have ever talked to me about your past. You were pretty mum about all of it back at the Palace."

"Was I? Hm.." Came the vague response, as Ambrose's eyes remained fixed on the horizon.

Their unit had moved out shortly after their return from scouting the wilderness. So far, Ambrose's instinct that they would not encounter any more trouble had proven correct. They were able to relax a little more, the men in the unit exchanging conversations, tales of past battle prowess, or merely entertaining themselves with dirty jokes. Ambrose did not uphold the strict militant behavior of his peers, which is why Cain guessed that there was no shortage of volunteers to join their particular unit. Somehow, that mildly lax approach to commanding his men had also earned the general some of the best fighters in the Resistance.

"That wasn't an answer." Cain pointed out.

"No, I suppose it wasn't. Okay. What do you want to know?"

"Well.." The blond opened his mouth once the invitation was given, trying to think up something that he wanted to know. Cain, for the life of him, had absolutely nothing enter his mind at the moment. "I'm not sure. Nothing that I can think of at this moment. Will you be willing to volunteer information beyond this point if I come up with anything?"

Ambrose laughed. "Of course, Wyatt. All you have to do is ask. I'm sure that there is plenty that I want to know about you, too. Is the offer mutual, if I question you about your past?"

"I've got nothing to hide." Cain shrugged. "Not much to tell, either. My life before the Resistance was pretty quiet."

"Do you intend to make a career out of the military?" Ambrose asked, looking curious over.

"Doubt it. Once everything settles down, I'll probably return back home and get back to ranching. That's what I've been doing since I was tall enough to ride on a horse."

"Riding horses and smiting bullies. You've got some well-rounded skills there, Fighter Cain."

"Try wrestling with a spooked cow. After that, fighting other guys seems pretty easy."

Ambrose chuckled. "I'll take your word for it. I hope that I never find myself having to wrestle any cattle for the rest of my life."

"What about you?" Cain smirked towards the other man. "Are you planning to spend the rest of your life being a General?"

"I might have a few annuals still left in me. Though I suppose the future of my career will depend on how the future of this government pans out."

"You really think that one of you are going to be put in charge of everything?"

Ambrose shrugged lightly, shaking his head. "I don't know. Maybe. Lonot has already expressed to me that he doesn't want the position, which is truly a shame. He has the experience and the seasons behind him that he would make an excellent leader. It's been a long time since I have met with or heard about General Raynz of the South. My impression in the past was that he was a scholar like myself; educated in literature, culture, knowledgeable about how the world works. I'm not sure if Raynz is still in charge of things down in that territory. He might have been replaced. Communication still remains difficult for the Resistance. That's one of the issues that we hope to iron out once everything is more organized."

"And what of the Eastern General? I still haven't learned his name."

"Well..." Ambrose looked sorrowful. "It used to be General.. Raw. However, I heard a rumor while I was in the Palace that an attack on his camp had left him dead. I haven't heard who they have replaced him with."

"You knew this 'Raw'?"

"He was the one who I had mentioned earlier. The one who had gotten me into the military. Raw fostered my career up through the ranks. I doubt that I would have come nearly this far without his support. We were... quite close." The man finished lamely.

Cain digested that vague claim, wondering how much he should have read into it. However, he could tell by Ambrose's reluctance that the man wasn't inclined to discuss the details of that matter. Instead, the blond murmured, "What about you? If they offer you the position, are you going to take it? Are you going to become the leader of the O.Z.?"

Ambrose's response was a faint smile. "I haven't made up my mind about that yet. That will depend, as I said, on how everything pans out." He studied Cain sidelong. "If I do take the position, what will you do? I'll probably be expected to settle at some central location as a hub between the regions. Not some small ranching town close to the hills."

"Well, I..." The blond scowled thoughtfully. He had been sincere in expressing his desire to return home once things were settled. It had not crossed his mind that there was a strong possibility that Ambrose was going to have to be in a separate part of the O.Z. Cain shrugged. "I guess we'll have to see what pans out, like you said. We won't know much about anything until we arrive at the Northern post."

"True. There's still plenty of time to figure out the future." Ambrose pointed out, before he swung around without breaking his stride to look back at the soldiers in his unit. "How about a break, men? We've made good time so far. Take five for a breather."

w!o-5

Wed, 07 May 2008 01:48:09 GMT

There was blood in his mouth; he could taste it. It sent him reeling in horror.

He clawed underneath him, nails digging into the fabric, tearing into the thickness of the blankets. His body twisted, a snarl forced harshly out of him as his body whipped up against the restraints which bound him to the corners of the bed. If he kept this up, it was going to cause permanent damage to his spine, perhaps paralyze him; he could only hope for such a fortunate thing to happen!

The one who had bound him knew about that internal desire for self-destruction. Those restraints were just taut enough that he could not twist that last inch, could not make snap those intricately locked vertebrae, could not save himself or anyone else. He strained his muscles, desperate. Then dropped back down to the surface of the bed when his efforts met with defeat.

"You're trying very hard, aren't you? How many times must I repeat myself? There is no release from this." The hoarse voice spoke from somewhere beside him. That voice which mocked him from the shadows, made his rage turn ferocious.

He growled in answer, unable to concentrate his anger into words, powerless in the face of that bestial intensity of emotion. His teeth were bared, snapping into the air towards the figure that climbed onto his bed, seeing the silver glint of the needle as it entered his line of sight. That made his captor chuckle quietly in dry amusement, as the figure's knee lowered down onto his chest, pinning it into place on the mattress. "Fight it all you want. Yes, fight it hard! The fact that you will give in, again and again, only gives me the satisfaction that I want."

That needle slid into his upraised arm, the injection pooling into his system with a wave of coolness. He cried out a protest despite knowing that it was too late. Clarity would flee, reason would run, and there would be nothing left of the semblance of a rational man until the drugs wore off again. Then this ritual would repeat, as it had for annuals, ever since the day when he had been unleashed.

"There, there." A hand patted him lightly on the shoulder, as the drugs traveled through his system, worming its way to his brain. Once it reached its destination, he would again be undone. "Just relax. It will go quicker that way."

He felt his eyes rolling up into his skull, as it washed over him, dragging him back. As his thoughts scattered, he heard that hoarse voice whisper in the mockery of comfort, "You really should consider this the honor that it is. You are my most perfect specimen."

~~~~~~~

The Hatter came knocking on the door of the Jabberwock's room after he had tucked the Doormouse in for sleeping. Now that the small fellow was fast asleep in the Hatter's bed, he found himself having to search for another place to bunk for the evening. He'd searched and searched for the Rabbit, but finding no sign of the man, had come here as a last resort.

He was surprised when the door opened up, the White Rabbit taking his leave from the Jabberwock's room, a small black case clutched in his hand. His large eyes blinked in astonishment towards the Hatter, though it quickly smoothed away into polite detachment. "Mister Hatter. May I get you something?"

"Actually, I came to see him." The blond's chin jerked in the direction of the door behind the Rabbit, that motion sending his top hat wavering precariously on his head.

"The Master is indisposed at the moment."

"Indisposed?" Hatter's blue eyes shifted from the Rabbit towards the door. "Well, I am sure that he won't mind if I wait in here for him to finish."

The Rabbit began to sputter protests, which the blond ignored, as he brushed the bald man aside with a hand and walked inside. He paused in the process of slamming the door in the Rabbit's face to murmur, "Tea for two, and make it snappy, dear Rabbit!"

Shutting out the man in white, the Hatter took measure of the Jabberwock's room around him. It was really quite plain in comparison to the elegance of the rest of the household. Aside from the bed, he could see no evidence of other furnishings. Of course, when the Jabberwock had an entire household of furniture to climb on, the Hatter guessed that the furnishings in one's own room would get boring after a time. The blond strode forward, eyes fixing on the bed and the figure which lay upon it.

The Jabberwock appeared to have slain some great bird! No, the Hatter realized after a second glance. The creature had merely gutted his pillows instead. Those pale white feathers were scattered carelessly over the bedspread, pooling around the Jabberwock's prone form. It was quite a curious sight to behold. Hatter discovered the restraints which were locked around the beast's wrists and ankles, humming to himself as he casually began to undo them. "Jabberwock, dearest monster, I have a need for your direction. Hello?"

He shook that sleeping figure with a hand on the creature's shoulder, the black leather of the Jabberwock's coat creaking under the Hatter's grip. Again, he addressed the beast, but this time more loudly, in case the other had misheard the first time he'd spoken. "Jabberwock? The Doormouse has claimed my room for the night, and I find myself homeless! Will you find me another room, or do I have to sleep on the table in the Red Room?"

Stirring, one black eye slit open, glittering up at the blond disturbing his slumber. Jabberwock growled in his throat, irritated. "Where's the Rabbit? The Rabbit could show you to a room. Why are you waking me, Hatter?"

"I sent the Rabbit to fetch us tea. Drinking tea seems to take priority, you know?" The blond was undeterred by the Jabberwock's annoyance with him, as he sat on the edge of the creature's bed. His fingers played idly through the scattered feathers on the bedspread, before reaching over to pluck one out of the Jabberwock's hair. "Sleep can always come later."

The beast on the bed eased up to sit, looking from the Hatter to those feathers. He could not remember having destroyed his pillows. They would need to be replaced. He'd speak with the Rabbit about it later. For now, the Jabberwock's attention was being drawn to the blond that had come to his bed. "Lamb to the slaughter.."

"Hm?" Hatter raised his eyes from the feathers, just in time to find himself being clutched by the lapels of his jacket. The Jabberwock's strength yanked him forward, as the blond found himself being pressed down into the softness of the mattress, those feathers clouding up with the impact and showering over them as the Jabberwock claimed the Hatter's mouth in a fierce kiss.

That kiss did not last long, since the Jabberwock was already breaking away to nuzzle the Hatter's throat with his mouth. "This again? Are you never satisfied?" The Hatter asked, only half-hearted in his effort to lecture the beast.

"You're addicting. I find myself waking with a voracious appetite." Jabberwock's silken purr floated up to him, as Hatter felt the creature sliding down the length of his body. He felt the beast take hold of the buttons of his jacket between his teeth, twisting his head forcefully to the side, so that those delicate silver catches came popping off. "I intend to peel you with my teeth, sweet Hatter, and maybe I won't stop until I taste your bones."

~~~~~~~~

The district of Wonderland seemed to defy the laws of time. Zero wished that he had brought a watch, something to ground himself. Despite the fact that several hours had passed, which should have brought dawn to the sky overhead, Zero found himself glancing up to those twin moons with no sign of a lightening horizon. It was unnerving; either time had stopped here, or else Zero himself had stepped outside of time. Logic would not allow him to accept that so much time had passed and yet it remained night.

He had found no sign of Jeb. The kid had vanished completely in the maze of the streets. In his frustration with the situation, Zero had already gone through a pack and a half of smokes. He hadn't brought a watch, but he had enough cigarettes to last him. Zero had to smirk at the reality of his priorities. Dropping another finished smoke, he ground it out on the pavement as he stopped on the street to look around.

Zero had been unable to locate the bookshop. In fact, he had failed to locate any landmark that he recognized. He'd left a trail of guttered cigarettes behind him in case he found himself going in circles, but so far had not come across any of them. There also had been no sign of life, not since the Cheshire Cat had disappeared. Zero felt like the last living creature on this bizarre sub-plane, convinced that the Wonderland District and the world beyond the tunnel were two different planets altogether.

His crushed cigarette butt was still smoldering pathetically when Zero lit another. He had never been much of a chain smoker, but this entire experience had warmed him up to the habit. The man strolled down the street, his pace relaxed since Zero knew that rushing would simply be a waste of his energy. Smoke curled around him as he walked, the temperature having dropped enough degrees that it gave that exhaled cloud some substance. The silence was deafening. So, he filled it with his own voice, talking to himself. "Okay. So let's put the situation into perspective."

"One: This place really is one big maze that can change itself at random, without you noticing, and you are hopelessly lost. Two: You have stepped into some bizarre sub-reality where the world operates beyond rational things like the natural laws of time and space. Three: This is merely a dream that you're having because you have been working too damned much. Or, else there's four: You died without knowing it, or having any memory of dying, and this is hell."

"I suppose the answer would differ depending on who you ask."

"That's true." Zero said agreeably, before it dawned on him that it was someone else who had spoken. He took another long pull on his cigarette. His mind was so numb from everything which was transpiring that he could barely muster enough power to be shocked, as the man's eyes raised to the figure poised on a fire escape above him. There was no mistaking who this was: Zero's nightmares were still haunted by the image of this monster.

The Jabberwock lounged comfortably on the very edge of the metal grid of the fire escape, that thin black-clad figure folded up where he'd propped his back against one post and braced his feet against the other. The tails of that black leather coat hung beneath him, like tattered wings, as his black eyes held their angle down to the figure of Zero standing in the street below. His mouth curled in the corners. "Are you enjoying yourself in my little maze, Alex? I wonder if you will be clever enough to find your way out. The trick is so simple."

"I haven't slept in nearly forty-eight hours. Brain isn't working as well as it should." Zero said in his defense, blowing out another lungful of smoke. If the Jabberwock intended to kill him, the man had to admit that he was more or less fucked at the moment. So far, the creature seemed to be in a conversational mood. Zero could humor that. "I'd stop and ask for directions, but no one seems to be around."

Chuckling quietly, the Jabberwock stretched both hands up to grip the bar above him. "No one dares to walk these streets while they know that I am on the prowl." He pulled himself up to stand, leaning against the metal ladder that was locked beside him. With that amused smile lingering, the creature's foot nudged the mechanism which kept that ladder secured. As it released, that ladder sank towards the street, clattering loudly in the silence as the beast let it lower. "There, Alex. A hint. No one can say that I'm not a generous sort of monster."

"I'll take your word for it." Zero drawled. He looked down as he let his cigarette drop, stepping on it absently as he tried to think of what else to say to the creature. Yet when he looked up again, Zero saw that the fire escape was empty. Another vanishing act. "My, people here come and go so quickly."

w!o - 4

Tue, 06 May 2008 02:17:39 GMT

Aside from the odd encounter at the book shop, there seemed to be nothing else lurking in the streets of the Wonderland District. This was encouraging for Jeb, who certainly didn't want them to be facing any danger, yet it was also frustrating because it brought them no closer to finding his father. Zero had been correct in comparing the grid of the place to a maze; they were constantly having to backtrack away from dead ends, metal fences, and other obstacles blocking their path. The detective was trying to remember if it had been that bad the last time that he'd come in here. He had a suspicion that some of this was altered.

So someone was still here, and was changing the design of the place.

With a sigh, Jeb dropped down to sit on the edge of the sidewalk, frustrated. "This is getting us nowhere."

Zero shared the kid's feeling on the matter. They'd been wandering this web for over an hour now. He pulled out a smoke, leaning against one of the unlit streetlamps as he let the habit take the edge off his discouragement. "We might as well head back by that store. That idiot didn't have much to tell us, but there might be a map or something that can give us some clue as to where we need to go to search. Walking around blindly isn't making any progress."

"Agreed." The teen rose, the pair of them heading back in the direction of the shop.

Time dragged on as they wove their way in the direction that they had come, the streets looking repetitive, causing some disorientation. After a while of walking without coming upon the shop, Zero frowned around them. This seemed to be taking a lot longer than it should have. By his estimation, they should have been to the shop by now.

"Something isn't right here. We should have already been there."

"Do you think that we just made a wrong turn or something?"

"Not sure.." Zero stopped, turning in a slow circle as he studied the buildings around them. "I doubt that. It seems to me that the place has changed."

"Changed?" Jeb began to look around them as well, brows furrowing. "This does seem different from what it was before. What should we do?"

"I guess we could test it. You go left, I go right, then we meet back in the middle on the other side. Unless you're afraid to split up?"

"Of course I'm not. There hasn't been anything attacking us. It's been quiet. Whatever there was the last time you came here, I don't think he's here anymore." Jeb said.

"Maybe." Zero sighed quietly, stubbing out another cigarette under his shoe. "Okay. We'll give it a shot. If you can't get through, or it seems like just another part of the maze, then come back this way. I'll stop once I get to my location and you can catch up. Sound good?"

"Sounds like a plan." Jeb agreed.

They parted, walking in opposite directions of the block. Jeb glanced over his shoulder, watching as Zero rounded his own corner out of sight. The teen felt a bit more nervous without having the man with the gun not immediately reachable. It caused Jeb's steps to increase their pace, as he tried to get around the building faster, not wanting to linger alone any longer than he had to.

Jeb blinked when he found himself rounding the corner, only to see a brick wall blocking his way. He edged backwards a few steps, then turned around to head back in the direction that he'd come, just as Zero had told him to. It seemed darker on his way heading back. Jeb's eyes searched hurriedly around him, watching those shadows. He then dropped his eyes to the ground to make sure that he didn't trip over anything.

The teen stopped at the end of the block. Jeb twisted slightly, eyes scanning the ground. He didn't see Zero's stubbed cigarette anywhere. With a mild gulp, the teen raised his voice up to try and locate the detective. "Mister Zero? Zero? Hello?"

Only the sound of his echoes answered him.

Jeb's lower lip curled in, as the teen chewed on it absently. He felt his heart starting to speed up in his chest, wondering where the man had gone, not wanting to think that he was now alone in this place. Jeb moved forward, going around the corner that he thought Zero had traveled down, not even caring if he ran into the detective, or if the man teased him for his panic. He found the block in front of him empty, with no sign of Zero, so Jeb picked his speed up to a run, clearing the next corner. Then he grunted as he collided into someone coming the other way, Jeb knocked back to the ground with the force of it.

He heard the other person smash into the ground as well, a soft curse spilling out from them upon their violent landing. Jeb twisted around onto his hands and knees, looking to see if it were Zero. Instead, the teen realized that it was the clerk from the bookshop.

The man was peeling himself up to sit, brushing off his rumpled coat with a mild glare towards Jeb. "You might want to watch where you're going, or at the very least call out a warning, before you tear around blind corners like that."

"Sorry. I'm so sorry." Jeb breathed out, panic still gripping him as he explained in a rush of words. "I was looking for Mister Zero, the detective. We got lost, and so we separated to see if we could find the way back to your shop, but I must have gotten myself completely turned around somehow. I can't find him anywhere. Did you see him on your way here?"

Reaching up, the man thoughtfully stroked his chin. "The detective? No, I can't say that I saw him along the way. But this is quite a fortunate development, since I had come out searching for the both of you. I had forgotten to give you some directions!"

Jeb nodded. He felt himself growing calmer, now that he had company. This man might have been a stranger, but he was harmless, if just wound tight. "We were going to see if there were any maps at your shop. That's when we got lost. I got pretty scared, being by myself. I'm so glad that I ran into you -- I mean, not literally, but.. you know."

"Don't be scared, little Jeb Cain." The clerk shook his head, brown eyes warm on the teen's face. "I'll help you find your way home. Leave it to me!"

He stood up in a graceful motion, offering a hand down for Jeb to take. The teen accepted the assistance with getting to his feet, smiling faintly. "Thank you. Though we should probably find Mister Zero, before we leave. I don't want anything to happen to him."

"How about this?" The clerk suggested. "How about I escort you back to my shop, and get you a nice cup of tea, then I will go track down Mister Zero while you search through the inventory for a map?"

"Okay." Jeb's smile gained some strength, reassured that things would work out now. He didn't even mind it when the clerk slid an arm around his shoulders, guiding the teen against his side as he drew Jeb along down the alley. It was kind of strange to walk with a guy like this, but the teen figured that since the clerk was being so helpful, he really didn't have any reason to complain.

They walked like that in silence for a time, Jeb trying to find some sign of Zero in all the twists of the alleys and streets that they crossed. The clerk was walking confidently, so he must have known where they were going. Something suddenly occurred to him. "Hey, um.. what's your name, anyway? I feel bad that you're doing all this stuff to help, and I haven't even asked yet."

"Oh, no worries." The clerk laughed softly. "I'm not offended. My name, actually, is Ambrose. But you can call me 'Jabberwock'."

~~~~~~~~~

"Kid? Jeb?!" Zero shouted again, the fifth time that he had called out to the teen.

The detective could have kicked himself for having let the kid out of his sight. Now he couldn't find any sign of Jeb, despite the fact that they should have met up minutes ago. Zero made the decision not to wait in that one spot any longer, as he hurried forward around the corner to locate where the teen had vanished off to.

"Psst!"

Hearing that hiss, Zero slowed to a stop, looking hurriedly around the alley. He expected that it was Jeb, but the kid wouldn't have stayed hiding in the shadows. "Who's there?" Reaching down, he slid his hand inside his coat, fingers brushing against his holster.

Out of one of the shadows, someone waved him forward. Zero saw a flash of gold on the fingers of that hand. He kept his hand ready on his gun as he cautiously approached, trying to pierce those shadows with his eyes. "Identify yourself, or I might shoot first and ask questions later."

"Don't shoot." The mystery figure responded. Two empty palms, decorated with gold rings on the fingers, came out of the shadows as a man stepped towards him. "I come in peace."

Zero saw that it was a man, sharply dressed in a burgundy suit. His hair was in cornrows on the top of his head, dark eyes lined in paint as they cautiously watched the detective to see what the man was going to do. "What do you want?"

"You're looking for the kid, aren't you? The kid and his father." The man stated, keeping his hands raised since Zero's tension had not subsided at all. "I might be able to help you find them."

"What makes you think that I'll trust you enough to believe a word that you say?"

"Because your choices are limited right now, aren't they?" Frowning, the man reached to the lapels of his jacket, straightening it on his shoulders in an offended manner. "I have the information that you need, and you have no way of getting the information without me."

"Why would you help me?"

"I got my reasons." He gestured to his chest, lips spreading into a mild grin of flashing gold teeth. "They call me the 'Cat'. Cheshire Cat. Don't ask why I got the name, but I do."

"Caterpillar mentioned you." Zero said, finally moving his hand away from his weapon. He nodded curtly to the man. "He said that you could help me with the Jabberwock. Said that you have all the answers. So, what can you tell me?"

"I can tell you that you're in way over your head here." Cheshire murmured, hands gesturing with his words. "You should have learned from the last time that you were here what you're up against. Jabberwock ain't no fool, and he ain't that forgetful. He'll remember your face. He remembered Wyatt Cain's face. You two forgot the Golden Rule about this place: Nobody gets out of Wonderland. Nobody."

Zero narrowed his eyes, wondering if that was a veiled threat. "The Jabberwock is the one running the show around here, then? He was the one that we chased that last time. So, how exactly do I manage to get the upperhand against him?"

"You don't. You do what you can do, what's smart. You get out of here and you don't stop running until Central City is a speck on a map. That's how you deal with the Jabberwock."

"Or I could just kill him." Zero murmured. "Kill him or arrest him. It'd be more helpful if you told me how to do that instead."

"No one knows that information. Not even me." Cheshire shook his head. "Jabberwock ain't killable. Jabberwock ain't human. He might have been at one time, but that was annuals ago. They fucked him up so hard that he ain't never going to be right again."

"You know about what happened here?"

"Not really. No. I just know a little more than everybody else around here. I can tell you that he wasn't always that way. That's about it." With a shrug, the man's dark eyes stretched past where Zero stood. "...Look, I gotta go. If you want to find Junior Cain, then you gotta hurry. Two lefts, three rights, two lefts, three rights. Go, go, go." The rings on his fingers flashed as Cheshire waved him on.

Zero looked away from the man, in the direction where Cheshire's gaze had pointed. He was curious just what had pulled those dark eyes away. "You think that Jeb's in dang--?" His question died on his lips when the detective turned back around, finding the space in front of him empty. There was no sign of the Cheshire anywhere in the alley, despite the fact that Zero had not heard him go.

What the hell was up with this place? Zero scowled, before hurrying off in the direction that the Cheshire had told him. "Hold on, kid."

~~~~~~~

Jeb pulled hurriedly out from under the man's arm, eyes widening as he backed up from him. "J-Jabberwock?!"

"That's correct." The clerk grinned, and Jeb was able to see a subtle transformation, as that harmless face became more menacing below the surface. Sweeping an arm across himself, the man bowed at the waist, mockingly formal.

With a gasp, the teen took another backward step, choosing those few seconds while the man was bent to turn and make a run for it. He could hear the Jabberwock tsk behind him, a low laugh chasing Jeb on his race towards the corner. The boy gave out a hoarse cry of fear and surprise when he found an arm snaking around his middle from behind. He felt himself being dragged back towards the Jabberwock, far too many feet of distance between him and that creature for it to have been anything but unnatural.

Jeb grunted as his back collided against that warm frame. He struggled, even when another arm was wrapping forward across his shoulders to pin him there. The Jabberwock laughed faintly as Jeb tried to kick at his ankles, the teen's efforts ceasing immediately when Jeb felt a long tongue slide up along his ear. That certainly took him by surprise.

"Look what I've caught in my little web." The Jabberwock purred, voice low and sensual. His dark eyes roamed caressively over the side of Jeb's head, smiling widely. "A little fly that came waltzing into my parlor. I had hoped to snare you both at once, but I will settle for this prize for the time being."

Jeb shuddered as he felt the man's mouth press against his throat, the action causing him to try jerking away. Those lips parted soon enough, a hot tongue tracing a wet line up the arch of Jeb's throat as the Jabberwock tasted him. "Mm... you taste delicious, little Jeb. Almost as scrumptious as your father."

"You have my father?" The teen whispered unsteadily, unable to free himself from this iron grip. He had underestimated that thin figure -- it was stronger than he could have imagined.

"Oh, yes. I have him.. and have had him, many times over." The Jabberwock answered with a chuckle, before the arm around Jeb's waist began to lower, hand reaching down towards the front of the teen's pants. "Like I'll have you, little Jeb. I'm a generous sort of creature. I'll even reunite the two of you, father and son. Of course, that will only be after you've been properly trained..."

Jeb was mortified when the creature's hand slid over the front of his pants, cupping him firmly through the fabric of his trousers. The Jabberwock sucked in a slow breath through his teeth, a pleased sound sounding in his throat. "Very delicious.. I might not even wait for you, like I did for him. Youthful flesh is so .. eager."

Then, Jeb felt something piercing into his shoulder. He flinched in pain, looking in that direction, just in time to see the Jabberwock drawing away what looked like a needle. The teen wanted to ask what had been in it, but his tongue already felt swollen in his mouth, as Jeb's body went numb. His vision was swimming grey, as the teen felt himself drowning in oblivion.

~~~~~~~~~

When Jeb resurfaced from those black depths, his body still felt numb from the effects of whatever the Jabberwock had injected him with. His eyes opened blearily, sluggish, as the teen tried to grasp the situation which he found himself waking up in.

He did not know where he was. Some kind of dark room, empty aside from him. There were metal shackles hanging from points along the walls around him, similar to the ones which had his hands locked above his head. Jeb's head rolled forward, as he sagged in those bonds, head spinning so much that he thought he might end up getting sick. He felt a chill sweep across his body, and there was a few seconds of clarity where Jeb knew that it was because he had no clothes on to protect him from the cold.

Long fingers reached up out of the darkness, cupping the bottom of Jeb's chin in order to raise the teen's face up. Jeb found himself looking into the true face of the Jabberwock. He saw the creature's mouth curved into a sensuous smile, black eyes absorbing and reflecting the shadows around them. The curls from before were slicked back from that pale face. Jeb wondered how he could have possibly mistaken this creature as harmless, no matter how well it was disguised.

"Are you going to kill me now?" Jeb heard himself whisper, not even recognizing his own voice.

"No." The Jabberwock's face swung slowly left to right, without those eyes moving off Jeb. His smile spread in the corners, amused. "Killing people is too easy, and too quick. I have much better plans for you, little Jeb."

Jeb scowled as the Jabberwock's hand dropped from his chin. He saw the creature step closer, as both of those pale hands went sliding down the teen's bare chest. Jabberwock's eyes angled down, searching appreciatively over Jeb's body. "Your father is quite the gifted lover. I'll bet it's genetic. And with you being younger, with less experience, then I'm sure that you can be trained just how I want you."

"Stop it. Get your hands off me." Jeb snapped, muscles flinching under that unwelcomed touch.

With a small smirk, Jabberwock angled his eyes up to the teen's face. He removed one of his hands, reaching into a pocket of that black leather jacket. Out came a blood red silk handkerchief. Jeb peered at it. "What are you going to do with tha-mmf!"

His captor answered by striking forward with his hand, as that fabric was stuffed into Jeb's speaking mouth. The creature's head cocked sharply to the right, studying the teen's face thoughtfully. Jabberwock nodded to himself once he reached some decision. "That's better. The color suits you."

He stationed both hand on Jeb's hips, testing how they felt in the grip of his hands. His voice lowered to a silken drawl. "I wish that I had more time to play with you. But, alas.. I have other prey that I need to catch. I'll just have to break you hard and fast, to speed up the process."

His right hand slid further down, winding itself around the back of Jeb's thigh, as that grip was used to raise up the teen's leg, until Jeb's knee was digging into the Jabberwock's hip. The creature's eyes dropped between them for a few seconds, enjoying the vision. His gaze was wicked when it raised back to Jeb's face, seeing the fear thick in the teen's panicked eyes. "I know that I haven't been entirely honest with you up until this point, but it's safe to trust me on what I am about to tell you."

"This?" Jabberwock grinned. "This is going to hurt immensely."

~~~~~~~

The Hatter was just sitting down for evening tea when the door to the Red Room opened. He glanced up from where he sat in his usual chair, raising an eyebrow when he discovered that the Jabberwock was coming in with company. With a broad smile, the creature purred to the seated blond, "I brought you a present, handsome Hatter."

With his arm sweeping forward, the creature brought the other figure forward. Jabberwock placed pale hands on both of the teen's shoulders, smiling towards the Hatter over the top of that blond head. The small figure was dressed in crimson velvet, outfit tailored in a match of the Hatter's own blue. His pale hairs were tangled in a mess -- Hatter figured that it was probably caused by the Jabberwock. The teen's eyes were fixed on nothing, glassy and unresponsive.

Hatter took a slow sip from his tea, placing the cup delicately upon its saucer as he nodded politely to the boy. "Hello. Have we met before?"

"You certainly have!" Jabberwock said, nodding quickly as he steered the silent one over to the chair beside the Hatter's. "This is your old friend, Doormouse. Doormouse, greet your friend the Hatter."

"Hello, Hatter." The Doormouse said in a voice barely above a whisper.

Jabberwock slipped away from the teen, climbing up to perch in his chair at the head of the table. He began to pour some tea, addressing the youth. "Would you like a cup, Doormouse?"

Doormouse nodded, taking the cup when it was placed in his hands. He sipped his tea in silence, eyes staring out over the table as if he didn't even see it.

"It was very kind of you to join us for tea, Doormouse." The Hatter said conversationally, before looking curiously towards the Jabberwock. "Should I expect any other old friends visiting? I might warn the Rabbit to prepare more scones."

"Just one." Jabberwock answered with a smirk. "Our tea party will not be fully complete until I have the last guest. Dear Alice -- er.. Alex. But that can wait until we're finished. Drink up, dear little ones."

Wonderland!Oz fic - part 3

Sat, 03 May 2008 17:36:07 GMT

The Hatter woke up to find himself in his bed, back in his room. His back was quite sore, which seemed to him an oddity for the first few seconds of wakefulness. Until his brain stirred from its rest, and after it had given itself a stretch, began to remind him of bits and pieces of the previous evening. He remembered the Jabberwocky riding him, the feeling of the broken china digging into his back. A pair of tongs from the sugar bowl had scratched his neck. He remembered seeing the White Rabbit coming in when it was done, sweeping up the mess of tea and sugar and blood and the rest with an old broom, clucking his tongue all the while.

Obviously, the tea must be drugged. Part of his brain, that nasty little section that liked to tell him things which confused him, whispered to him. He ignored it. Too early in the day for that internal voice to make his head ache any further than it already did.

Opening his eyes, the blond decided that his brain had the right idea, as he too stretched out his limbs with a yawn. Then he sat up in his bed when he found that there was something that kept his legs from having a proper stretch, to see what might be causing them to rebel against such a fine activity as stretching. He blinked down at the man who was laying across his knees.

That was unexpected. It wasn't the Jabberwocky, either. Even more of a shock!

"Good morning." The Hatter said, since that was really the most polite thing to say to a perfect stranger on his bed.

"Good morning!" The man answered with a grin. Why, some of his teeth were gold in his mouth!

It made the Hatter laugh to look at those golden teeth. He took a quick study of the fellow. The man was fully dressed -- which was really quite a relief, since the Hatter could not recall why he would wake up with this man in his bed -- in a fine suit of burgundy velvet. His shirt beneath was gold silk which matched those teeth perfectly. Hatter saw that the man's hair was lined in perfect black stripes along the top of his head. Had they met before? The blond could only think of one way to check, without completely embarassing himself. "Can you tell me my name, because I seem to have lost yours?"

"You're the Hatter, I'm the Cat. Cheshire, to be exact." The way that the man was lounging there across his legs was quite feline in manner, so the Hatter supposed that this made sense.

"A Cheshire Cat? How quaint!" He heard that inner voice groan. Quaint? Never say that again!

While the Hatter shushed that whisper, the cat rolled up to sit. He perched himself above the blond's legs, bracing himself on his hands as he peered at the Hatter. "I was sent to make sure that you kept out of mischief."

"The Jabberwocky sent you? Where is he?"

"Off to play, or chase some prey. I suspect one or the other." The cat shrugged dismissively.

Hatter watched as the man padded off the bed, slinking down to stand beside it. The Cheshire smirked at him. "Get dressed. I'll take you down for some breakfast. The Master should be back fairly soon -- certainly in time for tea."

"There's always time for tea." The blond flipped back his blankets in order to get out of bed. He wondered if they would let him drink tea for breakfast? Hatter was sure that if he asked the White Rabbit very nicely, then the man might allow it. "Give me a few minutes and then I will be ready!"

~~~~~~~~~~

Jeb stayed close behind Zero, lingering near the man's elbow when they walked into the Old District. The teen had never been here before. He could see, immediately, why his parents had always told him to steer clear of the area. There was an atmosphere of threat lurking in the air all around, as if any second something were going to jump around the corner and slam a whole lot of hurt into him. Zero didn't seem too bothered by it, the man walking steadily through without even glancing around. Jeb did his best to mimick the man's behavior, not meeting anyone's eyes that they passed, as Zero had warned him not to.

"You ready to turn back yet, kid?" Zero asked him, smirking in amusement as he glanced over to the teen.

"I'm not turning back, Mister Zero." Jeb glared up at the detective. "If you want to leave, then you can. Just point me in the direction I need to go."

Snorting, the man shook his head. Kid was as stubborn as his father. Zero's eyes began to wander through the area, to find the person that he was looking for. Had to be around here somewhere. Of course, any second now, the kid was probably going to ask him what they were doing.

"Um, what are you looking for?" Bingo! Right on cue. Zero rolled his eyes skyward, having called that one without fail.

"I'm looking for a man. They say that he used to live in the Wonderland District. People call him 'Caterpillar', whatever in the hell that means. I ran into him a few times in the past while doing some work with Wyatt on some of the drug rings in the area. Caterpillar's a heavy user."

"And you somehow think that he'll be able to help us find my father?" Jeb asked doubtfully. If the man was a druggie, then how could Zero expect the guy's information to be valid?

"Kid, he's one of the few people who has walked out of that place under his own power without dying later." Zero told the teen, steering his steps in the direction of the tunnel to the Wonderland District. "If we're going in there, then I want whatever information that I can get out of him. It might help us track Cain down that much faster."

"If you say so..."

As they walked around the corner of a brick building, Jeb saw a large dark tunnel coming into sight. No lights shone inside it, so that it was pitch black. Something about that darkness unnerved the teen. Almost as if it were solid, and not shadow. There was a faded sign posted above it that was nearly indecipherable from wear and tear. Whatever it once might have said, Jeb couldn't see, because someone had spray painted black letters over the old face of the sign, so that it simply read: Wonderland

"So that's where we're going?" Jeb whispered, feeling his courage starting to fail him with each step forward.

"In a few minutes, yeah." Zero answered him, and even the detective's gruff voice had lowered its volume as if afraid to disturb those shadows in the tunnel. He gestured towards a slumped figure wrapped in blankets which was propped beside the tunnel's entrance. "First, though, we talk to him."

Jeb stayed back as Zero approached the man, giving the detective some space to work. He studied the man, trying to determine what the detective found so important about him. The man looked homeless, his clothes ragged and dirty where Jeb could see them through holes in those clutched blankets. He was an elderly man, balding, with an old red cap perched atop his bowed head. Zero stopped beside the figure, nudging it with his foot. "Hey. Caterpillar. Wake up. I need to talk to you."

With a snort, the man came awake, groggily blinking around. Jeb could tell that, even when his eyes were fully open, that the man was still in a daze. Probably the drugs. The teen came closer, not finding much harm in such a pathetic creature. The man known as the Caterpillar blinked up at them, eyes glassy. "Who? Who, you?" He focused up on Zero, then began to chuckle. "You again?"

"Me." Zero nodded. "I'm going into your old stomping grounds to look for a man. This kid's father. I need some information before we go."

"Father dather, fadder dadder!" The Caterpillar's words rushed out of him at a gleeful whisper, Jeb taking a step back when those glassy eyes locked on him. He saw the man grin. "Father, son. Beware the son. Beware the Jabberwock, my son!"

"Jabberwock?" Jeb's face twisted in confusion, checking with Zero to see if that meant anything to the detective.

Zero scowled and nudged at the man with his shoe again. "Hey, crazy. You're talking to me here, not the kid. Focus." He snapped his fingers beside the Caterpillar's ear until that gaze fixed back on him.

"You, you, you. Who are you?" When Zero opened his mouth to answer, the man held up a hand to silence him. "Nevermind; neither here nor there. Mimzy, mumzy, dumzy. You're looking for a man who cannot be found. The hat on his head was silvery grey, but now it's a dandy black! Black, black, snicker-snack!"

Jeb nodded hurriedly, jumping on one bit of information in all that nonsense. "Yes! My father has a hat that he wears all the time. You've seen him, then? Is he okay?"

"Seen? See! See tea. Tea for me." The Caterpillar's eyes dropped as he frowned, forlorn and resentful. "I don't get invited for tea anymore. Crossed the Jabberwock, I did. But lived to tell the tale! Maybe the Jabberwock will have you for tea. Or have you for lunch." He giggled, chomping his teeth together twice.

"This is ridiculous." Zero scoffed, turning towards Jeb. "Forget it. This loon isn't going to tell us anything useful. I just wasted our time. Let's go, kid."

The detective turned to leave, startled when that slumped figure abruptly lurched up, gnarled fingers snatching hold of the cuff of his black coat. Zero looked quickly down, finding the Caterpillar's face looming near as he tried to pull his arm free. The Caterpillar's eyes were intense, as he whispered. "Find the cat with all the answers. The cat is cunning; but he knows all the secrets. Cheshire Cat plays the grinning fool! When you find yourself lost," he grinned, "which you certainly will.. The Cat will guide you from the shadow of the Jabberwock."

"What is the Jabberwock?" Jeb asked, as Zero managed to pull free, staring down at the man in front of them.

Caterpillar shuddered, the motion making his blankets undulate. He dropped his face down, whispering. "Nightmare and shadow, death and horror. The fears of Man made real -- given flesh and bone and claws and teeth. Beware the Jabberwock. Beware."

Then the man's voice faded into silence, and they realized that he had fallen back to sleep as if the conversation had not even been taking place. Jeb and Zero looked at each other, more confused now than they had been before seeking information. Zero shook his head. "Come on, kid. Let's go in."

Jeb swallowed heavily, to force his fear down. It threatened to claw its way out of him at any moment. The teen steadied himself, reminded that this was to save his father. He had to be brave. "I'm ready."

They headed for the mouth of the tunnel, Jeb's hands clenched to fists as his sides to keep his emotions in check. Zero was a little more open about his concerns; the teen saw the man draw his gun out of its holster, keeping it ready at his side. This really was serious business. Jeb locked his eyes on that weapon, since it was the only defense that they were going to have against whatever awaited them through this tunnel. Zero stared ahead into the blackness, then nodded determinedly and walked forward with the kid at his side, to see what fate was going to throw at them on this little adventure into Wonderland.

~~~~~~~~~

The White Rabbit stood in the kitchen, a syringe in hand. He had just finished injecting the last of the sugar cubes for this week, as instructed by his master, to serve for tea later on. Placing the needle down on the counter, the Rabbit hummed to himself as he walked over to the stove where the kettles were about to boil. After all, the Hatter would be requesting tea for breakfast, and the Rabbit had been trained to anticipate those needs.

He was loading the serving cart to feed the residents of the house when the monitors on the wall beside him lit up. The Rabbit's large eyes rotated towards them, as the motion detector alarm began to flicker red. Placing down a bowl of sliced fruit, he stepped closer to the monitors to see what the alert system had snared. Rabbit reached up to the box nearby, running his fingers down beside the buttons, until he found the one labeled Maze. He pushed down on the button, speaking into the box. "Master. We have guests entering through the tunnel."

It took over a minute before he got a response. Then the speaker crackled, before Rabbit could hear the Jabberwock's answer. "Put them on the monitor down here, Rabbit."

He did was he was told, able to hear a sound in the background behind where his master played. A wet gurgling noise, accompanied by an occasional desperate whimper. Rabbit sighed to himself. Judging by the sounds, it was going to be a large mess to clean up. "Shall I go to greet them, Master?"

"No." He could hear the grin in the Jabberwock's words. "I shall meet them personally. It's been so long since I've had prey wander in. Please turn on the power to the store, if you would?"

"Of course. While you are getting ready, I will check to see that everything is in order, once breakfast has been served."

"Excellent. I will call for you if I need." The speaker clicked off abruptly.

Rabbit had his orders. He flipped a few breakers along the wall, resuming his humming again while he worked. Then he returned to the initial task of delivering breakfast, making a note to himself to see that the mess in the Maze got cleaned up later.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Wonderland District was a series of abandoned buildings, long since fallen to neglect. There were no signs of vandalism anywhere that could be seen. It was merely a ghost town, fixed in time, forgotten. Jeb wondered if that was why people thought it was haunted. Aside from the wear on the buildings, and the thickness of dust and cobwebs which clouded the windows, it looked like a part of the city that was ready to jump to life, just like that, and resume right where it had left off. The stillness of the place was disturbing, compared to the bustle throughout most of Central City.

None of the streetlamps were lit, but the moons were exceptionally bright in the sky, so that they were still able to make their way through the shadowed streets. Zero still had not put his gun away. The sound of their footsteps on the pavement echoed back at them from that silence. Even the noises from the rest of the city outside seemed strangely absent. As if the atmosphere around them was afraid to even breathe.

"What was this place?" Jeb asked at a whisper, looking nervously around at the shadows which surrounded them.

"They say that it used to be a palace, actually." Zero explained as he kept his eyes peeled for any sign of movement. "That's why it's only accessible through the tunnel. It was meant to be that way, so that the palace could be easily defended if there was an attack on the city. Where we're at now was a plaza of shops that led the streets up to the gates of the palace. This used to be the jewel in the crown of Central City, before.."

"Before what?"

Zero glanced over. "Your parents never told you this story?"

"Nope. This is the first that I've heard about it. No one ever talks about this place, except to say that I shouldn't come near it." Jeb shrugged lightly.

"Well. They're probably just looking out for you. Anyway, annuals and annuals ago, this man comes to Central City with a group of scientists to visit the palace. Apparently, the Queen's advisor was a big time science fanatic, an inventor himself. No one knows exactly what they came for, since the royals kept it all hush-hush, but it was something pretty major. I mean, the security of the palace was huge."

"Shortly after that, there was some big explosion that collapsed a huge portion of the tunnel. No one could get in or out. The rest of Central lost all communication with the palace during that time. We didn't know what the hell was going on in here. Crews were put together to clear debris out of the tunnel, to get it opened back up and see what had happened to the people. It took them two whole weeks to finally get through. A few teams went inside to search."

"What did they find?"

"This." Zero gestured around. "This was all that they found. Everyone who had been inside here had vanished off the face of the planet. The Queen, her family, her advisor -- everyone who was on this side of the tunnel when the explosion happened. It unsettled everybody. No one was ever able to find a trace of them. Not even a whisper."

"People stopped coming here after that. Afraid that whatever had happened then might happen again. No one dared to return, even those who had lived here, or had their shops here. They took their losses, thankful that they hadn't been here the day of the event, and started over in the other districts."

"No one comes here anymore at all?"

"That's what I just said, didn't I?"

Jeb pointed Zero's attention further down the street. "So, what's that, then?"

There was a building down the street with its lights on. The neon sign was flickering pathetically, as if ready to burn the rest of the way out. From here, it was impossible to see what it was. As they walked closer, neither of them could see in through the windows of the building, because there were stacks of books piled up high on the inside.

Zero read the sign outloud. "Wonderland Books."

"Should we check it out?"

"Might as well." The detective muttered, as he moved ahead of Jeb, pushing open the door with his gun still clutched in his other hand. There was a bell which jingled, both of them given a start. After the silence of the street, it had caught them by surprise.

The interior of the shop was full of books. Shelves from floor to ceiling were stuffed full of them, and the overflow was stacked precariously around the place, forming towering columns of tomes. Everything was coated in dust, a string of cobwebs draped from the old-fashioned register on the counter beside them. Jeb finished a sweep of the place with his eyes, before frowning up to Zero. "Is there even anyone here?"

"Hi!" A cheery voice piped up from beside them.

Zero whirled his gun in that direction, the pair able to see someone dropping immediately down behind the sales counter, a panicked voice shouting up to them. "D-don't sh-shoot! T-take whatever's in the re-register!"

Hearing the fear in that voice, Zero lowered his gun back to his side. "Sorry. I'm not here to rob you. Just startled me, is all. Please, I'm a detective on an investigation."

Pale hands curled up over the lip of the counter from the other side, brown curls coming into view as a man blinked owlishly at them. "D-detective?"

Shoving his gun back into its holster, Zero reached into a pocket on the inside of his jacket, pulling out a card. He offered it over to the cowering man. "Yes, a detective. Sorry about the gun and all, but you can't be too careful in this part of the City."

"S-so you aren't going to r-rob me?" Plucking the card quickly out of Zero's grip, the man studied it carefully through his glasses.

"No. Please. I need to ask you some questions, if that's okay."

Slowly, the man stood back up behind the counter. Jeb found him to be a sloppy sort of fellow, movements twitching nervously like a cautious mouse. His suit was badly rumpled, looking like it had been thrown together with lack of care, the buttons not done correctly and the white shirt under hanging untucked on one side. Brown eyes blinked again at the card, before he nodded at Zero, swallowing thickly, as if worried that this might be some kind of trick. "S-sure."

"Why is it that this shop has power, while the rest of the district seems to not have any juice powering it?"

"G-generator, in the back." The man cocked a thumb in the direction of the hallway behind the counter. "The owner t-told me to k-keep the power running." His stutter began to subside as his fear left him, looking between Zero and Jeb. "In case we had customers."

"You get many customers through here?"

"Not any!" The man said, with a weak little laugh. He reached up to push his glasses up on his nose, sighing. "I just started working here about a week ago. The owner warned me that business was slow, but he didn't tell me that no one ever came in. I was actually taking a nap back here when the bell woke me up." His eyebrows raised, expression hopeful. "You guys wouldn't happen to want to buy any books, would you? We have a lot in stock!"

"No, we don't need any books." Zero muttered, but the guy was already hurrying around the counter towards one of the nearby stacks. The man carefully took one of the books off the top, blowing harshly across the top of it, which sent a cloud of dust flying. He sneezed as a result, hand waving to clear the air in front of his face. "Oh my. Probably should see to tidying the place up, but it just seems like such a waste of energy with no customers coming in. Please, forgive me!"

The man smiled pleasantly as he held out the book to Jeb. "Here, you look like a young man who might enjoy this one. It's a book about a girl who wanders into a strange, bizarre sort of land, and tells all about her adventures. I've read this one over a hundred times!"

Zero pulled the book out of the guy's hand before Jeb could take it, putting it firmly down on the counter. "We don't need any books, I said. We need information about a man who disappeared here. Big guy, blond, gray hat and coat. It would have been about an annual back that he wandered through here. You think the owner might seen him?"

"Hm.." The man rubbed his chin, thoughtful. "He might have. But the owner left the shop shortly after he hired me on, and I haven't seen him at all since then."

"Why didn't you just leave to look for him, then?" Jeb asked curiously.

"He told me that I mustn't leave the shop at all. It's dangerous out there in those streets." He breathed out, looking fearfully towards the door. "Coming from some small town in the country, I can believe it. This place is pretty crazy." His brown eyes focused back on the both of them, fear making his face childlike. "Have you heard the rumor that there's supposedly a beast that haunts this part of the City?"

"The Jabberwock?"

"Yes." The man pointed to Jeb, nodding when the teen supplied the name. "The Jabberwock! That's what the owner called it. He told me, 'Beware the Jabberwock, my son'. I have no idea what a 'Jabberwock' is, but it sounds awfully frightening!" He laced his fingers together against his chest, protective. "So far, I haven't seen anything that looks 'Jabberwock-ish', though I suppose a bloodthirsty beast probably wouldn't have much interest in buying books."

Zero figured that this was going to be about as useful as his interrogation with the Caterpillar had been. He elbowed Jeb lightly, head jerking towards the door. "Come on, kid. I doubt we're going to get any answers here." Zero forced a smile to the man, nodding. "Thanks for your time. Sorry, again, about the gun."

"Oh, no problem! It's the most excitement that I've had in a week." The man said, laughing as he waved to them with both hands. "If I hear anything, or see anything, should I just call the number on this little card here?"

"Yeah. I'm the only one at the office. Leave a message if I'm not in. Jeb and I are going to take a look around. We'll stop back by later, in case you figure anything valuable out." Zero nodded to the man in parting, before heading to the door. The bell jingled again as he stepped outside, holding it open for Jeb.

The teen smiled faintly at the bookish man. "Thanks. Sorry for disturbing your nap. Take care."

Then Jeb hurried out the door with Zero, not wanting to keep the detective waiting for long. For all he knew, Zero probably would have left him behind. The man beamed after them, waving pleasantly, his brown eyes twinkling merrily. "Come again very soon. We'll always have plenty in stock!" The bell jingled again as the pair shut the door behind them.

Once they had left, he brought that card up in front of his face. His eyes scanned over the text, before he raised it to touch the paper against his lips, eyes shutting as he inhaled deeply. When those eyes opened back up, they glittered black in the lamplight, lips curling in the corners as the Jabberwock purred to himself, "Alex Zero, and a little mouse of a boy. Two more to fill my chairs for tea."

Wonderland!Oz fic - Part Two

Fri, 02 May 2008 03:25:52 GMT

"The Queen of Hearts and her pair of tarts decided to join us for tea." The Jabberwocky murmured in a sing-song voice, stirring some sugar into his cup as he slid his eyes in the direction of the blond seated to his side, before letting his eyes return to watching the cube dissolve in his tea. The Jabberwocky's smile was indulgent, where he lounged in his chair at the head of the golden table. "Tell me, dear Hatter, what did you think of our lovely guests?"

"They didn't wear much by the way of clothes." The blond answered as he sipped from his own cup, eyes darting around to the chairs which had emptied once their guests had left for the evening. He had found the Queen very charming. Her lavender eyes were interesting to him. She had come in the company of two young women, both very pretty. "All of them were beautiful."

Pausing his spoon in mid-stir, the Jabberwocky's dark eyes angled back over to the Hatter. Then they narrowed slightly, suspicious. "You enjoyed looking at them, then? Did ogling their flesh please you?"

The Hatter shrugged, oblivious to the creature's scrutiny. "I suppose. Yes. Should it not have?"

His answer was the sound of a china cup smashing to the tabletop, the Hatter barely able to start turning his head before he found himself being yanked up out of his chair by the front of his jacket. Jabberwocky's strength caught him offguard, the blond blinking up to the gold embellishments on the ceiling as his back came smashing down on the table. China shattered easily underneath his bulk, tea and sugar cubes spilling everywhere.

The Jabberwocky came prowling over him where he lay, crawling on all fours, hovering above where the dazed Hatter lay. His eyes were nearly black in his anger, the beast's pale face taut with anger. The blond could not figure out what he had said to make the creature mad. He murmured, hesitently, "You just ruined a perfectly good set of china."

"You're not supposed to find anyone lovely." Jabberwocky growled down to him, lowering his face within an inch of the blond's. His teeth bared with his words, and the Hatter wondered if the beast were going to bite him. "You're supposed to see no one but me, do you understand? Do I need to teach you another lesson?"

He raised up his left hand from where it lay on bits of porcelain, the sharp chips having cut into the Jabberwocky's palm. The creature splayed his fingers over the blond's chin, so that those crimson gashes smeared across the Hatter's mouth. It made the Hatter shudder, feeling that wet warmth staining his lips. He tried to turn his head to the side, but the creature's fingers were probing, forcing his mouth to open, as the Jabberwocky purred a low demand. "Suck."

The blond scowled, though he was unable to form an argument considering that those fingers were in the way. Jabberwocky's fingers tasted of copper, also of sugar, where they slid down over his tongue. He knew that the creature would not cease his actions until his whim had been satisfied, so the blond obliged him by suckling on those invading digits, blood leaking down his throat.

Slowly, the Jabberwocky's anger melted, watching the Hatter's mouth flex around his fingers. He smiled in satisfaction and withdrew his hand. "Good boy. You're listening better. I didn't even have to tell you twice. Now repeat what I told you."

"I am not to find anyone lovely. I am not supposed to look at anyone but you. That about it?"

"Sounds accurate." The creature purred, eyes drifting to the side to fix on where the White Rabbit stood near the door. That pale figure gave no outward reaction to what he was witnessing here, as if used to the unpredictable behavior of the Jabberwocky. With his eyes still on that remote figure, Jabberwocky lowered that last inch and licked slowly across the Hatter's mouth. "Rabbit? Would you kindly excuse the Hatter and I? The mess can wait until I'm finished with his lesson."

"Of course, Master." The white-dressed man bowed, stepping out through the door beside him, shutting them in alone together.

Spidery fingers began to work at the Hatter's pants, the Jabberwocky sitting upright, his weight pinning down the blond's legs as he whispered, again in that sing-song, "Little handsome Hatter needs nightly lessons."

"This is the second time tonight." The blond breathed out, eyes widening as he looked down to where the Jabberwocky was prying at his garments. "I'm still sore from earlier."

"Oh? Well, this is a 'reward' lesson, so we can't very well have you hurting, can we my poor darling?" Jabberwocky reasoned, though he did not cease his efforts. The Hatter felt his pants being pushed down, felt the first stirring of arousal as his body remembered the pleasure it had felt just hours ago. "We'll just have to do this differently. I don't have to be inside to prove that I'm in charge." He grinned devilishly, the blond not sure if he liked what he read in that winking eye.

~~~~~~~~~

Jeb Cain left the station in his usual mood -- frustrated. Again, he had gone to the police to appeal to them to increase their efforts to locate his missing father. Again, they had dismissed his questions, glossing over the situation no matter how often or vehemently the teen tried. Either Central City's police force was utterly inept, or there was something going on that went beyond their offices. A higher power, discouraging their efforts?

He sat down on the cement steps in front of the office, dejected. It had been nearly an annual since his father, Wyatt, had vanished while in the line of duty. No one had been able to locate the tin man in all that time. Jeb knew that his mother grew increasingly despondant with each passing day where no news arrived to comfort them, or offer some closure, or just to give them some clue what had happened.

Looking around him, Jeb reached into the pocket of his thick wool jacket, drawing out a small business card. It had been slipped to him by one of the officers inside the station who had felt sympathetic to his plight. That was as much help as Jeb expected to get from them. The card was pristine white when he'd received it, but now it was fading in the corners from where he had turned it over and over in his fingers every night, reading the black script on it, trying to decide what to do. It was for a private investigator here in Central City. Someone who might be able to track down where Wyatt Cain had disappeared to.

The problem for Jeb was that he knew how expensive such a service was going to be. Without the income from his father, Jeb and his mother were having to make ends meet. They had a spousal support which came to Adora every month through the government, but it wasn't enough to survive in a city like Central. He had started doing odd jobs where he could find them, adding to the household finances as much as he could. Jeb had put aside a little money when he could in order to save up for just this use, yet it still wasn't enough.

Considering the lack of cooperation from the Tin Men, though, Jeb knew that he at least had to try. There was a chance that he could appeal to the investigator, make some kind of arrangement to pay the man in steps. Anything. Jeb put the card back into his jacket pocket. He didn't need to check the address -- he'd had it memorized for a month now. The teen stood up, tossing one last glare towards the brick building behind him, before moving in the direction of the Business District.

~~~~~~~~

The letters on the door read, simply: A Z P I

Jeb took the card out, double-checking the listing. No, he hadn't made a mistake. It was the same as what the card said. So this was exactly the destination he'd been looking for. His eyes traveled away from the door, taking stock of the peeling wallpaper and frayed carpet that lined the corridor of this dump. A tin man had recommended this?

Sighing, Jeb put the card back into his pocket and knocked on the opaque glass.

The door cracked open, a man peeking out at Jeb. Once he took measure of the teen, he opened the door the rest of the way, frowning. "You the kid from the deli? That was some fast service." Jeb watched him draw a wallet out of the back pocket of his trousers. "How much was the total again?"

"I'm not from a deli, um .. Mister Zero." Jeb answered tentatively. "I was sent here to--"

"Hey, where the hell's my sandwich? What kind of delivery service are you guys running, sending someone without even bringing the food?" The man asked with a scowl.

Jeb closed his eyes. The police had been frustrating enough. He wasn't sure if his temper was going to last much longer. His voice picked up some volume. "I am not here to deliver anything, Mister Zero. I was sent here by someone to look into hiring your services."

"You? A kid?" Zero leaned against the doorframe, unable to help a laugh as he appraised the scrawny teen. "You're here to hire me? Lose your dog or something? Kid, I'm not Animal Control."

"No, my father. Wyatt Cain. A tin man." Jeb answered curtly, trying hard to stay polite. His mother would have been proud!

"Cain?" That changed the man's manner entirely, as Zero drew himself further upright. He frowned at Jeb. "That must make you... starts with a 'J', right?"

"Jeb." The teen supplied, looking hopeful. "You know my father, Mister Zero?"

Zero waved him inside. "Come on in, kid. Best to talk about it in here than in the hallway."

Doing as requested, Jeb stepped inside of the office, looking around. It was both a work space and a living space, cluttered due to a lack of footage. Zero was scooting his way around a small wood desk, gesturing for Jeb to take the metal chair in front. It was hardly what Jeb had pictured a private investigator's headquarters to look like. His mother would have had a fit seeing such a messy place.

Zero had opened up a drawer in his desk, placing a squat glass on the top of it. As Jeb watched, the man poured himself some amber liquid out of a flask, speaking to the teen. "I knew Wyatt. We used to run in the same circles back when he was around on the force. Worked together a few times, too. In fact, he had cooperated with me on one of my last cases, shortly before his disappearance."

"What was the case, if you don't mind my asking?" Jeb asked as the man drained his glass.

The smell of the liquor came out strong when Zero exhaled a thick breath, eyeing Jeb across the desk. "I wouldn't want to give you nightmares, kid. That's stuff best left between adults."

"I am not a 'kid', Mister Zero. I want to find my father. Any information is better than nothing."

Zero nodded, serious. "Okay. But don't say I didn't warn you if you end up pissing yourself later tonight." The man took another shot from his glass before he spoke again, Jeb leaning forward in his chair to listen.

"About an annual and a half back, I got hired on by this girl's parents when she disappeared. Good, clean kid. Not the kind to go running off to join the circus, you know? Anyway, I pull on all my contacts here in Central to find out if anyone had seen any sign of her. Turns out the last eye witness account put her heading into the Old District with some guy. They remembered her because of the guy, actually, and how bizarre he looked. Bald guy, very pale, dressed all in white. Said that he had a crazy look to him."

Zero paused, licking his lips. "Everyone knows that the Old District is bad news. Rough part of town, just a slight step from the Realm of the Unwanted. People who go in there go in there only out of dire need, or for shady business deals, or to sate their vices. Some wholesome girl like that just didn't fit into the picture. I found out that she'd gone in there, so I contacted Wyatt Cain and another tin man, Hank Myers, to go in with me. They both were familiar with the workings of the District -- knew people from having busted the balls of criminals in that area for annuals."

"The three of us went in to look for her. Asked around. Of course, nobody claimed to have seen her. One girl looks the same as another to those types. Then I decided that I'd try a different lead: I asked them about the guy who she had been reported with." Zero nodded, smiling faintly. "They remembered him easy enough. Told us that he came and went out from past the old tracks -- from the Wonderland District."

"The Wonderland District?" Jeb breathed out, amazed. Everyone in Central had heard of that place. No one went there, not even the police. It was rumored to be haunted. Not even the roughest thugs in the Old District dared to walk in. The Wonderland District could be accessed by a tunnel -- one way in, one way out. And people who went in never came back out. The teen was fascinated. "Did you.. go there?"

"We did. No offense, but your dad was a bit of a softy when it came to kids. And Hank had a daughter around that age at the time. If she was there, we were all determined to get her back out." Zero's eyes lowered, fixing on the contents of his glass, hazed by memories. "Man.. If we had been smarter, we'd have just called it a defeat and left. Instead, we pushed our chests out and went swaggering into the lion's den."

"What happened? Did you find her?"

"Yeah, we found her." Zero said quietly, before amending himself, "Pieces of her, anyway. Something had slaughtered that girl, shred her to bits. Never in all my annuals of investigating had I seen anything that bad. Hank threw up all over the place; it got to him, too. We didn't know at the moment, but there was worse to come." He drained his glass again, then took the next shot straight out of the flask.

"Wyatt was actually the first one to notice. He always managed to keep a calm head no matter how bad things got, which is why I had wanted him along on the case. I could trust Wyatt to see it through until the end. Hank was still carrying on with losing his lunch, and I was knocking my brain trying to think of what I was going to tell this girl's poor family. But Wyatt, cool as ice, told us, 'Somebody's watching us.'."

"Hank fought to get his stomach under control, while Wyatt and I looked around the area, trying to see where the person was. It was that feeling, you know? That weight, when you know that something is looking at you so intensely that it's actually got substance. We all felt it. Though hard as we looked, we couldn't see what was watching us from the dark."

Zero's eyes drifted around the shadows in his office, as he shifted nervously in his chair. "Then it came out. It let us see it, as it came out of the dark like something melting out of nothing."

"What was it?" Jeb prompted him eagerly, not wanting the man's increasing distresss to distract him from the rest of the story.

"It was a man. Or, something that looked like a man. We thought that's what it was at first. Wyatt and I figured that it was the killer coming back to the scene of the crime, or coming to watch us appraise his work. Wyatt and Hank took off after the guy through a side alley when the guy ran for it, chasing him down. I mean, even if that guy wasn't the killer, he was still rather suspicious."

"I went around some of the buildings, thinking that I might be able to make my way around to the other side, maybe cut the guy off at some point. Made it about a block over before I realized that there was a fence preventing me from getting through. So I had to double back and try to catch up with them. The District's a bit of a maze in the way it was designed. It took me close to fifteen minutes to track down where they had gone off to. The guy had been leading them in quite the complex pattern. By the time that I caught up to them, it was already too late."

Jeb blinked. "The killer escaped?"

"No.." Zero shook his head, eyes meeting Jeb's. "The killer had wanted them to follow. It led them right into it's trap. In that alley..." The man trailed off, shuddering visibly at the memory. Zero clutched that flask closer to his chest.

"By the time I arrived, it had already done a number on Hank. Had him strung up against the wall by his own entrails. I saw Hank's ribs, kid. Whatever that thing was, it had torn right through him like he was a string of wheat. Blood everywhere, and -- horribly enough -- Hank's body was still jerking as if he weren't quite dead yet. I'm not so proud that I won't admit to nearly pissing myself right then. No, sir. I won't ever forget that sight."

"'Course, I feared for Wyatt, too. If this thing had butchered Hank so easily, what had it done to him? I ran down the alley, towards the end of it, and found that I was looking at a dead end. Wyatt was laying there on the ground. The thing was right on top of him. He was covered in blood, so I thought that I had come too late to save him, too. Then I saw that Wyatt wasn't bleeding from anywhere, and I couldn't see any wounds on him. The blood was from Hank, because the thing was splattered in it."

"I drew my gun. If it was going to start ripping into Wyatt, then I was going to fill it with bullets. That moment, it was like everything else in the world tuned out, while everything in that alley became startlingly clear. I watched the thing sit up slow, curling up off of Wyatt's body like some kind of snake. It turned its head to look at me, the entire lower half of its face coated with Hank's blood, its dark eyes were glittering like some mad beast. And then it... then it..." Zero's voice died into nothing.

"Then it what?" Jeb's eyes were wide as saucers.

"Then it... smiled at me."

Both of them nearly jumped out of their chairs when there came a knock on the glass door of Zero's office. Jeb clutched at his chest with his hands, thinking that he'd just lost five years off his lifespan from fright. The detective scooted out from behind the desk, Jeb seeing him placing one hand against the holster which hung on the coatrack near the door. It caused the teen to realize that Zero had done the same thing before opening the door to him.

It was just a teen delivering Zero's sandwich. Not the boogeyman which they both anticipated. Zero paid the kid, shutting the door behind him with a relieved sigh. He came back to the desk, tossing the bag with his sandwich in it to the side of the desk. "Now I'm not even close to hungry. You want any of this?"

Jeb quickly shook his head, forcing his hands back down to his lap. He didn't want the man to know exactly how frightened that interruption had left him, the teen attempting to look as calm as possible. There was more to the story, after all, and Jeb wanted to hear it. "What happened after it looked at you?"

"Ah, kid.. I've said enough already." Zero sighed again, reaching to the right side of his desk to pick up a pack of cigarettes. He fished one out, and Jeb could see that his hand was shaking faintly where it held the lighter. He inhaled deeply, unleashing a calming cloud of smoke. "Obviously, your dad and I made it out okay. I managed to scare the thing off by firing a few warning shots. I got Wyatt back awake, we got the hell out of there. Your dad didn't want to leave Hank, but there was no way that I was going to wait around for the thing to come back and finish toying with us. We filed a report on it, I gave the parents the news, and nobody else felt brave enough to go in and retrieve the bodies."

"So the corpses are still there?"

"Unless the thing ate them, which I certainly could believe." Zero muttered, tapping out some ash into a beer can near his elbow. "Your dad didn't remember much of what happened. The thing knocked him out first before it went for Hank. It only came back to play with Wyatt when it had finished. Probably for the best. We never talked about it with each other. Never talked about it with anyone else, after filing that report. You're the only other person that's ever heard this story, kid. Now don't you feel honored?"

Jeb ignored the sarcasm, thinking on everything which Zero had told him. "You said that this case was not too long before my dad disappeared, right?"

"About a moon cycle before, yeah."

The teen rose up from his chair, pacing in front of it. Jeb had just pieced something together, trying to puzzle it all out into a line of logic which made sense. "So my father goes with you on this case in the Wonderland District. This .. whatever that thing was -- killer -- knocks my dad out cold, instead of just killing him outright like he did to that Hank guy. A moon cycle later, my father gets an assignment to go into the Old District for some case, then ends up disappearing."

"That about sums it up, yeah." Zero agreed, before picking his flask back up. "What are you getting at, kid?"

"Maybe that thing kidnapped or killed my father." Jeb reasoned. "If that guy was in the Old District the night that my father went to that bar, he might have recognized him from what had happened. So that means that it's likely that my dad somehow ended up getting taken into the Wonderland District." He snapped his fingers, feeling a thrill of excitement. Now he knew where to look for his father!

Zero studied the happiness on Jeb's face, fixing him with a level stare. "Kid. You aren't the first person to reach that conclusion."

"What do you mean?"

The detective snorted. "I already knew it. The cops already knew it. Hell, everyone knows that Cain's in there. No one is crazy or stupid enough to go in after him, though."

Jeb's mouth dropped open. "You mean that all these people know where my father is, but they've just let him stay gone? What if he's still alive? They just left him in that place?"

Zero shrugged, then nodded as he took another hit off the flask. "Pretty much, kid. Yeah. Old Wyatt Cain has been officially written off as a lost cause. He was written off the moment someone put his location one foot into the Wonderland District. Nobody goes in there, nobody comes out."

Jeb's temper snapped. Hearing Zero put it that way made all of his anger and frustration and suffering come to a boiling point. "What good are you adults if you act like scared little kids?! My father might be alive in there, and you all turned your back on him because you were scared?!"

"Stop that yelling. I have neighbors, you know." Zero gestured a finger around to either wall.

"I'm not afraid. I'm going after him." Jeb announced, once he'd managed to get his volume back under control. "I will go by myself if I have to. I won't leave him there. Either he's dead -- and then at least I will know it -- or he is alive, and I will find some way to rescue him."

"You're just going to end up dead, kid." The man shook his head.

"I don't care." Jeb stomped his foot on the floor. "I am going into the Wonderland District. I am finding my father. I am not going to let horror stories about some boogeyman scare me away." The teen whirled around, stalking towards the door to yank it open on his way out.

"Kid, wait!"

Zero's voice stopped him, Jeb turning to glare back at the man over his shoulder.

He saw Zero wipe a hand down over his face, before the man tilted that flask back and took a very long drink. Placing it firmly down on the desktop, he pushed up to his feet and walked over to where Jeb stood at the door. The detective reached towards the coat rack, bringing down that holster as Zero began to strap it into place on his torso. "Your dad would hand me my own nuts if I let you walk in there alone. I owe Wyatt a few favors. If you're really determined to do this, despite my warnings, then I guess that I don't have a choice."

Zero finished locking that holster on, drawing out his gun and opening the chamber to check how many bullets were in it. Stuffing it back at his side, the man grabbed down a black coat from one of the rungs, slipping it on to hide that holster. "Okay, Jeb Cain. Hope you kissed your mother goodbye." Zero then shoved the teen out into the hallway, following behind him, as he shut the door to his office, hopefully not for the last time.

Unconditionally Conditional - Part Eight - Conclusion

Thu, 01 May 2008 01:07:37 GMT

The reign of the Monarchy had come to an explosive end.

The Queen and her Royal Council were presumed dead from the explosion that had destroyed the Palace, their weapons and technologies being erased with them. Those who survived were left to adapt back to the more primitive society outside the walls of that former 'paradise', newly freed slaves leaving the area in droves to seek out new fortunes in other parts of the realm. Some of the masters tried to rally together in order to get their power secured, but the vigilante government of the Resistance crushed those attempts swiftly underfoot.

With the structure of government gone so quickly, it became chaotic the first few months, as people tried to settle into a world that operated without the shadow of that corrupted rulership. But these were people who had learned how to adapt, so they adapted to these changes as well, as the realm eventually settled into a structure of assorted democracies which the Resistance helped them to set up.

At night, Cain always dreamed about the time he had spent with Ambrose. The memories of their passion haunted him. Cain found himself longing to touch the man again, just to feel him one last time. He remembered the last look that Ambrose had given him before the Medic had left that final time, those brown eyes full of warmth and love. That gaze tormented him when he was awake, leaving him feeling empty.

Cain didn't expect that he would ever find that again.

He watched the world getting better, but could not find it in his heart to enjoy it. Cain traveled from town to town, along with other Resistance Fighters, doing what he could to help the people get adjusted to their new lives. There was talk going through the ranks that they were going to have to find some central leader soon, or the assorted governments would not adhere well. Many had suggested that one of the generals of the Resistance might take over, since their efforts over the years had helped to free the realm from the Monarchy's rule.

Him and a few other Fighters traveled to one of the main camps of the Resistance. A few of the generals were said to be gathered there, and Cain had been specifically requested once it got back to them that the man had managed to survive and escape the Palace intact. Cain had no enthusiasm in hearing their praise. They had cost him something precious, which promotion or reward could not replace.

He grudgingly dismounted from his horse, tipping his hat to the other Fighters who were stationed around the camp. "I'm here to see the Generals."

One of the men pointed his attention to a large tent in the center of the camp. "They're waiting for you inside."

Cain nodded his gratitude, duster swishing around his calves as he approached the tent. A soldier pulled back one of the flaps for him so that Cain could step inside.

"Ah, this must be Fighter Wyatt Cain." A man stood up from the table as soon as the blond entered, extending a hand to him. He was an older gentleman, seasoned by battle, his hands rough when Cain clasped it politely. "We have been looking forward to your visit. I am General Lonot of the Western Resistance Division."

"An honor, Sir." Cain murmured. He had heard stories of this man's feats. Lonot had an impressive reputation.

Another man, the other general, reached to shake Cain's hand, which the blond clasped half-heartedly. He really wasn't feeling up to this. Cain frowned absently, then blinked as he heard a familiar creak while he politely shook the hand clasped in his. Looking down, Cain found himself gazing at a black leather glove.

The blond looked swiftly up to the other man standing in front of him, eyes wide.

Brown eyes were faintly amused as they looked up at the blond, a small smile on that pale face as the other man murmured, "General Ambrose of the Northern Resistance Division. You should at least pretend to be happier to see your superior officers, Wyatt Cain."

~~~~~~~~~

General Lonot took his leave from them shortly after nightfall, exiting the tent after bidding Ambrose and Cain a warm farewell. Ambrose watched the other man depart, a faint smile having been present throughout the entire exchange, undoubtedly due to the shock which Cain had been handicapped by, stammering through most of their conversation.

Ambrose reached for the tie of the tent's flaps, securing it into a knot. It gave Cain some time to shift the track of his thoughts from the conversation with Lonot to remembering the fact that this man in front of him was supposed to be dead. Turning back to where the blond stood, Ambrose arched an eyebrow. "Would you like something to drink, Fighter Cain? I'm afraid the selection isn't much in our present circumstances, but the wine is rather nice."

The man moved around the room with that familiar grace, Cain amazed to see him wearing dark casual clothes instead of the leather Medic uniform. He watched in silence as Ambrose filled a glass with wine from a table nearby, before the man turned to hold it towards Cain.

Taking it, Cain downed the entire glass in a few swallows. Ambrose was staring at him intently while he did so. Then the blond tossed the emptied cup to the side and reached for the smaller man, who came into his arms as their mouths collided in a kiss. It was better than Cain had remembered over these past few months when he thought that he might never experience it except in memory. His heart was instantly full in his chest, close to exploding with the sudden swell of emotion.

He forced his mouth away, blue eyes speaking volumes down into brown. "I thought you were dead."

"You didn't trust me like you should have, then." Ambrose murmured, smiling wryly. "I'm not the kind of man to break a promise."

Cain tried to think of what else to say. His mind was full of so many questions! He could only truly focus on the reality of Ambrose in his arms. Finally, he managed, "You never told me that you were a general."

"You never asked my rank." Ambrose teased. "Someone really needs to train you better on how military protocol works, Fighter Cain."

The blond smirked. He slid his hands down Ambrose's arms, until they were able to lock around the man's wrists. With Ambrose's warm gaze fixed on his face, Cain slowly began to peel off those leather gloves, whispering, "Permission to speak freely, General Ambrose?"

"Only if you aren't about to say something stupid." The man answered with a spreading grin.

Cain chuckled, before pulling those bared hands up towards his mouth, those gloves having been dropped to the floor. He kissed Ambrose's fingers, rubbing them against the lower half of his face, as he murmured, "I love you. Since you didn't give me the chance to say it before."

Ambrose nodded slowly, solemn but loving. "That was wicked of me. How will I ever make it up to you, Wyatt?"

Their eyes locked again, as both of them smiled at each other. Cain then drew Ambrose back into his arms, mouth reaching for his lover's, as a few ideas were inspired in his mind.

~~~~~~~~~~

"So, what happens from here?" Cain asked, while they sat outside the next night after dinner was wrapped up in the camp. It was cold out, but Ambrose insisted on lingering there, stretched out on the grass. When Cain had tried to coax him into the warmth of the tent, the man had told him that he'd gone for over a decade without seeing stars through the lights of the Palace. They lay out there for well over an hour just gazing up at the sky, Ambrose's face shining with contentment.

"Well, now that I'm free to return to actively fulfilling my duties as General, I suppose I'll need to get myself re-acclimated to how this all works again. Not that I haven't been working extremely hard these past years for the movement." Ambrose said, shifting his hands underneath his head to cradle it. "I'll probably be leaving here for the Northern Division camp in a day or so."

Pushing up onto his elbows, Cain gazed down at the other man. "Where does that leave me?"

"I'd say that leaves you ... heading North?" Ambrose shifted his eyes from the sky to Cain's face, hopeful. "If you want to, that is. After everything you've been through, no one would blame you if you wanted to resign."

Cain scoffed. "Of course I want to go with you. For being such a smart guy, that was a pretty stupid thing to say."

"You must be rubbing off on me." The man teased, before rolling over to drape himself upon Cain where the man lay. He kissed the blond quickly on the mouth, then jumped up to his feet in one fluid movement. Ambrose offered his hand down to the man. "Come on. I've had enough star-gazing for tonight. Let's turn in."

Taking that hand, Cain used it to pull himself up to his feet. They stood together, lingering for a few seconds in that closeness, before Ambrose led the way back inside the tent, with thoughts of sleep far from their minds.

Unconditionally Conditional - Part Seven

Wed, 30 Apr 2008 22:43:36 GMT

Cain paced the laboratory, stalking around it like a caged beast, his anger increasing with every minute that passed. He tried to focus on something, anything, to take his mind off the fact that his lover was currently being fucked by the Queen. Jealousy was stabbing into his heart over and over. The blond had to give up when his attempts simply increased his frustration, until he was pounding on the counter with his fists in order to get out some of his rage.

How could Ambrose allow this to happen? Surely he knew how upset Cain was going to be! He had thought that his lover would understand better, the way things were supposed to operate. Not order him out of their suite when the Queen stopped by for a fuck!

His legs grew tired of pacing, and there was nothing left for Cain to do but sit down on a stool and wait.

The doors to the lab quietly opened when Ambrose finally arrived. He paused at the doors, securing them behind him, as Cain looked up from where he'd been glaring at the floor in order to lock that accusing stare towards the Medic.

Ambrose's pajamas were unsettled, some of the buttons still undone. His hair was tangled from sex, the scent of it clinging to him as the Medic tentatively walked towards where Cain was seated. He stopped just out of arm's reach, as if afraid of what the blond might do in his anger. His voice was soft, calm. "I'm sorry that you had to be present for that, Wyatt. I didn't think that she'd seek me out in that manner."

"Did you enjoy fucking her?" Cain asked bitingly, the anger making his voice gruff.

The Medic sighed faintly. His dark eyes searched over the blond's face, as Ambrose frowned. "What do you think?"

"I think that you did." The blond stated. "I think that you must have enjoyed yourself immensely, considering that it's been well over two hours."

Ambrose continued to stare at Cain, not backing down from the blond's fierce look. He swallowed thickly, before his head gave a subtle shake. "If you really think that is the case, Wyatt Cain, then I don't think that you have ever listened to a damned word I've said."

Cain's eyes flew off to the side, glaring towards one of the counters instead. "So, what? I'm supposed to sit back and let you get fucked by that woman whenever she feels like it, and don't have any right to get mad about it?!"

"That's exactly right." The Medic nodded firmly, face taut. "I warned you before we became lovers, Wyatt. Even if I hold a rank now, I am still more or less that woman's slave."

"I don't want to share you." Cain snapped hotly.

"You have to!" Ambrose breathed out in exasperation, spreading his hands out. "You have to share me, with her and with whomever she might decide to send upon me. Can you not understand that I am expected to obey her commands, even at the cost of my pride? Do you think I enjoy being at the mercy of whatever deviant whim she might have?"

"Then why don't you just leave, if it bothers you that much?"

Ambrose clasped both hands over his face, sliding them down with a frustrated growl. "Hello? I can't leave, Wyatt! My mission--"

"Forget about your mission!" Cain stood up to tower over the Medic, glaring down at him. "You have the ability to leave this place. You have the intelligence to hide from her if she comes searching for you. Ambrose, there is nothing keeping you here but yourself!"

"That isn't true." The Medic shook his head. "I have to stay here. It's not a matter of choice right now."

"Why?! Why do you have to stay?! What could be keeping you here that's so import--"

"You, Wyatt!" Ambrose snapped, raising his voice. He glared up into that blue gaze, angry now himself. "Because I can't free you from this place yet, and I won't leave you behind. So I stay, because as things are now I can at least keep you safe!"

That made Cain's anger lapse, as he stared at the Medic. Ambrose's glare slipped away into melancholy, his hands settling on either side of the blond's face as he said, more gently, "I'm not going to abandon you here, even if I can save myself. You're too important to me to do something like that, Wyatt. I can't leave right now. Not until I can take you with me."

"Ambrose.." The blond gazed intensely at his lover, before he had to drop his eyes down from the Medic's, voice still rough. "I'm not going to accept having to share you. I am not going to be happy letting it happen."

"I understand." Ambrose nodded, sighing faintly. He tried to smile, nearly successful. "So long as you realize that I don't want to do those things with them. That you're the only one that I choose to share myself with like that."

Cain's arms enfolded the Medic, drawing the smaller man against his chest as Ambrose turned his face up to receive the blond's kiss. The blond was able to taste traces of the Queen's lipstick on his lover's mouth. It made his temper rise again, though he tried to restrain it as he clutched the Medic possessively closer. That jealousy was undergoing a metamorphisis, Cain whispering right against the man's mouth. "Get on the table, or else I am going to fuck you right here on the floor."

Drawing back slightly from the kiss, Ambrose smirked up at the blond. "Nothing wrong with the floor, in my opinion. The table will be fine -- just try not to fall off this time, okay?"

Cain ran his gaze over his lover's face, as his hands took a firm grip on Ambrose's hips, starting to lift the Medic up by the backs of his thighs in order to sit him on the edge of that table. "No promises."

~~~~~~~~~~

Their lovemaking was rougher than usual. Cain's jealousy made his passion possessive, so that his thrusts were hard where he rocked above his lover. Ambrose did not protest it, even if it hurt him, accepting Cain's hunger with quiet little sighs. The blond ran a sweaty palm covetously over that pale face. "Mine, goddamnit."

"Yes. Yes.." Ambrose whispered in response, the blond able to feel him nodding against the palm of his hand before the Medic took Cain's fingers into his mouth, suckling them as if mimicking the movements of Cain inside of his body.

Cain shuddered as his release rocked through him, hips pinning Ambrose's there against the cold metal of the table. He moved until Ambrose gave in to his own climax, straining deep, driving home the sincerity of his words. His.

If it wasn't love yet, then it had least blossomed into one heady obsession.

~~~~~~~~~~

A thunderous sound woke Cain up one night, the man blearily opening his eyes to blink around in the darkness of the suite. There was a second sound, then the blond was able to feel the entire suite shuddering. "What the hell?"

He reached immediately beside him, only to discover that Ambrose's side of the bed was empty. The blond sat up quickly. Where had the Medic gone? The suite was shaking again, more violently now. Cain threw the blankets aside, scrambling out of the bed.

The door to the suite came slamming open, as Ambrose ran inside. He saw that Cain was awake, the blond staring at him questioningly. Nodding, the Medic hurried towards him, grabbing hold of Cain's elbow. "Good, you're up. Let's go."

"Where? What's going on, Ambrose?"

"No time! I'll explain as we go." The man said hurriedly, tugging urgently when Cain balked. "Come on, Wyatt!"

Cain gave up on resisting, as he let Ambrose guide him out of the suite. There were people running in all directions out in the corridor, several of them shouting in alarm as the chaos around them escalated. Ambrose kept a tight hold on Cain's hand, their fingers locked together, the leather of his glove warm to the touch.

"It's the Resistance." The Medic explained as they rushed down the corridor together, Ambrose looking around them, calm and determined. "They're attacking the Palace, using some bombs that they were able to scrounge together from their raids on the caravans of imported weaponry that has come through the realm. Half of the Palace is already in shambles. It's just a matter of time before the charges they set around here start going off as well. We have ten minutes."

"How do you know all of that?" Cain asked him, having to shout over the noise of the wailing alarm sirens which had begun to sound throughout the structure.

"Stop asking questions and just trust me, Wyatt." Ambrose said curtly, as they came to the end of the residential area, the Central District opening up in front of them. Cain was able to see people scrambling desperately around on all the levels like ants, most of the lights of that miniature city turned off as people abandoned their shops. The Beam shuddered as another explosion rocked part of the Palace, Ambrose clutching onto the railing to keep from falling as their platform jerked under their feet.

After a quick look around, the Medic turned back to Cain, pressing something into his palm. The blond saw that it was a key card, which Ambrose had once told him allowed the Medic to open all the doors in the Palace. It was a ticket to freedom. "I want you to take this. Follow the crowd to the Plaza -- the gates to get out are there. In this chaos, you should have no trouble getting out of here, especially if you have this with you."

"What about you?" Cain asked, scowling as he curled his fingers around the card.

"I will meet you outside. There is something that I have to do."

"Let me come with you!" Cain protested. "I'm not going to leave you here while I run outside."

"It'll be faster for me to get out without you, Wyatt." Ambrose stated firmly, adamant as he shook his head. "I know my way through here, the fastest ways to get out. I need you safe out there, so that I don't lose precious time."

The blond still hesitated. "What are you going to do?"

That snapped the Medic, who reached up and grabbed hold of Cain's head, jerking it down eye level as he growled angrily. "So help me, Wyatt Cain, if you don't shut up and get the hell out of here, I will toss you over this railing myself! Now go! That's an order!"

Any further protest that Cain might have given was cut off by Ambrose's mouth, which had shoved against his in a soulful kiss. He clung to Cain's lips, imprinting his passion into every moment of it. He drew back, eyes gazing deeply into the blond's, as he whispered, "I love you, Wyatt." Then Ambrose broke away from the blond and ran in the opposite direction of the crowd.

Cain watched him disappear into the fleeing mobs, unable to follow. His fingers squeezed around the key card, the edges cutting into the skin of his hand. Then he moved into the mass of the crowd trying to escape, letting them carry him towards freedom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ambrose had been correct in saying that Cain would be able to slip through the crowds in the chaos. The blond found himself being pushed through the gates with the rest of those fleeing. Slaves and masters scattered in all directions. A man in black pajamas fit right in, overlooked by the Guards who were still trying desperately to maintain some order. Cain found his bare feet stepping onto soft grass for the first time in over two months.

He saw Resistance Fighters in formation on the edge of the forest surrounding the Palace grounds, moving towards them with his hands raised in the air to prevent them from mistaking him for a hostile. One of the men noticed him, the barrel of his rifle pointing towards Cain. The blond called out, "Don't shoot. I'm one of yours."

"Cain? Wyatt Cain?" The man saw one of the Fighters shifting in his direction, pushing the other man's rifle down. "At ease, soldier. This one is on our side."

Cain lowered his hands down as the man walked over to him, clapping him on the shoulder. "We thought that we'd lost you, Cain."

The blond squinted at the stranger, trying to identify him. He knew that this kid was from one of the units his had worked with before, but couldn't think of the name. Cain was still reeling with a daze from everything that was happening. The man seemed to realize this, nodding understandingly as he kept his hand on Cain's shoulder, guiding him in the direction of the post behind the Fighter unit's location. "Just hang back here and take it easy. This should be over with shortly."

"Why? What makes you think that they won't just form together and fight back?" Cain blinked at the man in confusion, trying to determine why he was so confident of their victory. Even if they had managed to take the Palace by surprise, they were still going to be outmanned and outgunned.

"They won't have any time. Our inside man should be seeing to that. The General assured us that the Palace would be disabled and destroyed."

"Inside man?" Cain felt like someone had plunged his heart in ice. "What is he supposed to be doing?"

"Just watch." The man winked, before nodding Cain's attention back to the towering spire of the Palace.

Cain locked his eyes on it, a hand coming up to press over his heart as dread rolled through him.

The Beam shuddered in the center of that central spire, green light sputtering as if something were disrupting it. It seemed ready to fade completely for a second, before it pulsed even brighter than ever. There was another thunderous sound from inside the Palace, then that entire spire exploded from the inside out, sending debris flying everywhere. The impact of the explosion was powerful enough that it knocked everyone off their feet, the Resistance Fighters shielding themselves as the Palace began to collapse in front of where they were stationed.

A cloud rolled up where the structure had detonated, the lights of the Palace going dead, leaving the night sky around it oddly dark where it once had shown pristine white.

Cain felt himself sinking down, sitting hard on the grass beneath him, staring at that cloud as it rolled across the sky, in utter disbelief.

"Ambrose..."

Unconditionally Conditional - Part Six

Wed, 30 Apr 2008 07:41:02 GMT

"Ambrose?" Cain was shouting the man's name as he burst in through the doors of the Medic's laboratory, face flushed from running, his heart thundering in his chest from where he had come all the way from the other side of the Medical Sector.

He froze in shock at what he discovered.

Ambrose was sitting on the floor on the opposite side of the room, knees pulled up to his chest. Cain could see that he was half undressed, jacket hanging open. His hair was tousled from rough handling. Knowing that Zero had been here to visit, that did not phase Cain very much.

What surprised him was seeing Zero lying half on Ambrose's operating table, the man's head twisted to an uncomfortable angle, eyes unseeing. Dead.

Cain quickly secured the doors behind him, staring at the corpse in amazement as he hurried past it to where Ambrose was. He knelt down beside his lover, though Ambrose had yet to acknowledge him, staring ahead in that way which Cain had always hated. "Ambrose? Sweetheart?"

The man blinked up at him, barely surfacing from his daze. "Wyatt? Oh.. I didn't expect that you'd come here. I told them to tell you to wait for me at the suite."

"They tried." Cain said softly, hands hovering at his sides, not sure what to do for the other man. He finally settled for reaching to Ambrose's jacket, starting to latch it back up. "I came here instead when I found out that Zero wanted to meet with you in private."

"He knew. About me being in the Resistance. He was going to tell the Queen if I didn't.. If I wouldn't.." Ambrose trailed off, shaking his head. "I didn't have a choice. I had to do it."

It sounded like he had been trying to convince himself of that for some time now. Cain nodded in understanding, trying to offer him support. "That's right. He would have hurt you. He would have used you, and then he probably would have told the Queen anyway. Zero worked that way."

Ambrose nodded, silent. He didn't fight it when Cain took hold of his hands, pulling the Medic up to his feet. Cain slid an arm around the man, in order to give him that extra physical support, as he looked over at Zero's body. "What do we do with him?"

"I don't know." The Medic murmured. "We'll have to get rid of the body. Hide all the evidence. I might be able to think up a cover story. Everyone knows that Zero has been bitter about being demoted. I could convince them that he came for a last fling and then left the Palace. It's plausible."

Cain thought that it sounded believable. "Just tell me what to do."

Trying to shake himself out of his state, the Medic murmured absently. "Help me move him over to the sinks. They should be big enough." Ambrose went to where Zero's body lay, taking hold of the man's legs. Cain followed, taking hold of the top of the Trainer, carrying the brunt of the weight as they brought the corpse over to the sinks. They dropped it over the twin basins, Zero's limbs hanging limply into them. The blond looked curiously to Ambrose. "What exactly are you planning to do?"

But Ambrose wouldn't answer him, the Medic already wandering away from Cain's side. He heard the man muttering under his breath, as he went to one of the cabinets, opening up a door. Ambrose removed some large bottles from inside, tucking them under his arms to transport them, before returning to the sink. Cain watched all of this without any understanding, wondering what was in those bottles that Ambrose thought he needed.

"Stand back." The Medic told him quietly. Cain did as he was told, putting some distance between him and those bottles. Ambrose removed the stopper to one of them, holding it far away from his face as he did so. He overturned it, pouring the contents down onto Zero's body. Cain's jaw dropped when he saw that liquid hit the dead man's flesh and begin to dissolve it with a burning hiss, the potent acid eating through the tissue matter with ease. Ambrose's voice was lifeless. "It won't work on the bones, but it will destroy the rest. The bones won't be hard to get rid of. Once I've washed them off, they can be tossed into the Beam. That will erase the last trace of Zero.."

Cain looked back over to his lover, seeing that Ambrose was tormented. Not from having killed Zero, but from having killed. The blond stepped up behind him, pressing a kiss to the side of Ambrose's head as he whispered, "Good riddance, sweetheart. You did the right thing today."

"It's never the right thing." Ambrose responded. Then, Cain watched his eyes fill up with tears, before the Medic choked on a sob. He was crying even as he unstopped the next bottle to pour onto Zero's dissolving corpse. Cain, not knowing what else to do, could only slide his arms around Ambrose's waist from behind, trying to convey with his warm presence what his words could not.

~~~~~~~~~

They stood together against the protective railing which lined the edge of the platform around the Beam, a few levels below the Slave Quarter. Ambrose tossed the last tied bag across the gap, both he and Cain watching as the energy of that green light dissolved it instantly. It was done, as easily as that. Zero was now just a figment of their darkest imaginings.

Ambrose stared towards the Beam, still not completely recovered from what had happened. Cain didn't want to add to the man's pain, but there were things about the situation that he did not understand. His hand rested against Ambrose's back as he spoke to the man. "You were a slave here for over a decade. Do you really think the Queen would be upset to find it out now, after so long?"

"No." The Medic whispered. "It wouldn't matter to her, if she believed that I used to be in the Resistance. My fear was that it would come out that I am in the Resistance."

"What do you mean?"

With a sigh, Ambrose swiveled around, leaning back against the railing as he looked up to Cain. "I'm still in the Resistance, Wyatt. Actively involved, in fact, as a spy."

Cain stared at the other man in disbelief. "You're kidding, right?"

"No, I'm not kidding. My capture was deliberate. I was supposed to infiltrate the Palace, and try to manuever myself into a position close to the Monarchy. That was my mission. How do you think I know what the Resistance is doing? I've been keeping in secret communications with them since I arrived here."

"I thought you might have just been hearing rumors.." The blond confessed, shaking his head, still unable to believe what Ambrose was telling him. "That doesn't make any sense. The Resistance sent you here on purpose, knowing what you'd have to go through, in order to get information about the Monarchy?"

Ambrose shrugged lightly, before looking back towards the Beam. "I volunteered. I'm not a fighter, Wyatt. But this was something that I could do. Use my brain to help the Resistance."

"And your body." Cain added darkly.

The Medic's jaw clenched. He looked up at the blond, frowning. "I was prepared to use that, too, if needed. I'm no fool, Wyatt. I always knew what I was getting myself into. My mission was the only thing which has helped me to get this far without having a mental breakdown. For success, I would sacrifice what I had to, no matter the cost."

"So Zero knew that you were a spy?"

"Yes. He implied that to me when he came to my laboratory. Which is why I.." Ambrose trailed off, looking down at his hands, the gloves having been placed back on them.

Cain placed a hand on the Medic's shoulder, squeezing gently. "Don't think badly of yourself for it. You did the realm a favor, Ambrose. You did the Resistance a favor. One less madman roaming free."

"I never killed anybody before." Ambrose whispered down to his hands. "I didn't think I'd ever be able to do it."

"Sometimes, it's a neccessary evil. Put it out of your head, sweetheart." Cain wrapped an arm around behind the Medic, pulling him away from the rail as he began to guide Ambrose towards the elevator. "Let's go up to the suite. You've had one hell of a day, Doc."

"One hell of a life, is more like it." Ambrose mumbled darkly, giving himself over into Cain's care, since he knew that the man would get things settled back onto some course of sanity.

~~~~~~~~~

Zero's disappearance became the talk of the Palace for the next month, as speculations circulated as to where the infamous Trainer might have vanished to. An investigation was launched as a standard practice by the Queen, so that slaves and owners could be interviewed to see if they had any information on the matter.

When they came to Ambrose's laboratory, Cain was present. The blond looked up from where he was seated, one of the Medic's medical books opened in front of him on the counter. A pair of Palace Guards entered through the doors, followed by a man dressed in similar attire, but with more insignia to indicate his superior rank. He bowed respectfully at Ambrose, ignoring Cain as if the man were not in the room. "Master Ambrose. Might I have a word with you?"

"Of course." Ambrose's smile was faint, but polite. He shifted away from where he'd been studying blood samples at a work station, gloved hands clasping together in front of him. "What can I do for you gentlemen?"

"We're here on the matter of Trainer Zero's disappearance. I am sure that you have heard by now that he is missing?"

"I had heard that." Ambrose nodded, his smile fading as he looked convincingly concerned. "People have been flocking to ask me questions left and right, considering that I was the last person to see him."

The investigator nodded, pulling out a pad of paper. "That is what we had gathered from witness reports. Forgive me for having to be so formal about this, Sir, but I'm afraid that I will have to interview you as a suspect."

Ambrose fluttered a hand dismissively. "It's not an inconvenience. I don't have any appointments for at least another hour." Cain watched as the Medic walked around the table, before pushing up to sit on the edge closer to where the investigator stood. Ambrose regarded them curiously. "What did you want to know? Please, ask away."

"Thank you, Sir." The investigator looked relieved by the Medic's willingness to cooperate. Cain bet that other people did not take so kindly to being questioned by servants. "You admit, then, that you were the last to see Trainer Zero?"

"Yes. He visited me in my laboratory, ordering my staff to leave us alone since he wanted to have a private meeting." Ambrose explained.

"What was your meeting about, Master Ambrose?"

Cain watched as color bled into his lover's face, Ambrose demurely dropping his eyes to his lap as if uncomfortable to answer. "Trainer Zero and I .. ah .. have a history together. He was visiting me for a session of rekindling old .. activities."

That made the investigator blush as well, the man coughing awkwardly. "I see. And did Zero say anything to you about plans for leaving um .. before or ... after?"

Ambrose thought hard about it, trying to remember. "Hm. Not anything directly. He did speak about his recent demotion, and sounded rather displeased with it. Zero insinuated that he has been growing weary with the atmosphere of the Palace, since he felt that he was being too constricted from the things he wanted to do. But did he say that he was leaving? No, he didn't tell me anything about that."

"Was this the last place that you saw Trainer Zero?"

Ambrose blushed again. "Well, yes. Walking out the door with a sated smile. I don't know if you're familiar with his sexual reputation, but I wasn't in any sort of condition to follow him out the door, if you get my meaning."

"I.. understand, Sir. Thank you for your time. I'll let you get back to your work." The investigator said hurriedly, bowing formally. He looked like he wanted to get out of there quickly, before anything else about the Medic's intimate activities were brought into the conversation.

Watching them go, Ambrose kept that polite smile locked in place. Then, once sure that they were gone, he let out a quick breath with a glance towards Cain.

The blond quirked a smile, amused. "You'd make one hell of an actor, Ambrose."

"Probably, but it--" The Medic's face turned swiftly paler, then sickly green. He slid down off the table, hurrying into the adjoining bathroom in his lab. Cain heard the sounds of the man retching through the door, the stress apparently too much for his delicate friend. With a sigh, the blond slid off his stool, heading towards the bathroom in order to come to his lover's rescue.

~~~~~~~~

By the end of the month the entire sensation caused by Zero's disappearance had faded. It was reported by the Investigative Unit that the Trainer must have left of his own accord. Despite initial concerns that his absence was going to cause difficulties in the Trainer Unit, it turned out that they were able to return to a semblance of order under new leadership. For Ambrose and Cain, the conclusion meant that they could finally relax again.

Their troubles seemed to be over.

Both of the men fell back into their daily routine, though Cain was not allowed to return to the building sites. Ambrose made sure to always have a list of tasks for the blond to perform for him, even though Cain suspected that half of them could easily have been done by the Medic himself. It did give him the opportunity to spend more time with his lover. In their spare time between Ambrose's patients, the Medic was even teaching him some basic first aid skills, telling Cain that the blond would never know when it might come in handy.

Sex was still on the menu for the evening hours, yet the insatiable hunger of their first weeks together had ebbed somewhat to include some nights that were reserved just for tender affection, as they lay beside each other in bed, or tangled up their limbs on the sofa, and Ambrose would press his ear down to Cain's chest to listen to his heart beating. Not that their passion had subsided in the least; a stray touch at just the right moment could quickly send them spiraling into lust, and their intentions for the evening would be delayed by another round of lovemaking.

Mostly, they spent their nights enjoying the companionship which they had shared before becoming lovers. Cain was getting better at reading out of Ambrose's books of poetry, not stammering nearly as much over the eloquent words. The Medic had purchase some novels more suited to Cain's tastes, featuring stories of battles and warriors and epic journeys. He would sit for hours reading to the blond, content just sitting at Cain's side.

One evening, while Ambrose was stretched across Cain's lap reading the next chapter from one of the blond's preferred titles, both of the men comfortable in their soft pajamas, there came a knock on the door to Ambrose's suite. The Medic lowered the book to his chest, frowning in that direction. "Who could that be?"

"Dunno." Cain murmured, fingers dropping from where they had been teasing through Ambrose's curls. "Were you expecting any visitors tonight?"

"Not at all." The knock sounded again, and the Medic climbed up to his feet. He handed the novel over to Cain so that the blond could hold their place before going to open the door. Ambrose opened it up a crack, and Cain looked hurriedly over to his lover as the man gasped out in surprise, "Your Majesty."

The Queen pushed the door open further, sauntering into the room with a glance around. Cain felt like he might have been a piece of furniture for all the attention she gave him. She was dressed in a diaphanous black robe, the blond able to see that there wasn't much under the material. Her eyes were locked on Ambrose, a small smile fixed on her painted lips. "Ambrose. You look surprised to see me. Am I interrupting?"

"Not at all." He hurriedly shook his head, bowing to her. "It's just unexpected that you would come to visit me here, is all. Had I known that you were coming, I would have been better prepared for your company. I'm afraid that I have nothing to offer as far as refreshme--"

"I didn't come here for a drink, darling." The Queen cut him off, placing a finger against the Medic's lips to silence him. "You have been putting me off for over two months now. I haven't been able to enjoy your company, busy as you have become. So I decided that I would come to you now, while you are available." Her mouth curved into a sensual smile, as she traced her finger along Ambrose's jawline. "I have missed you, dear Ambrose."

Cain closed the book with a dull thump, drawing the woman's attention in his direction. She quirked an eyebrow at the blond. "Your slave is here, I see. Why don't you send him on an errand for a few hours, Ambrose, so that we can be alone?"

Slipping closer, the woman slid her hands up over Ambrose's shoulders, kissing the corner of his mouth in a blatant hint of what she wanted to spend their time doing in Cain's absence. The Medic placed his hands on her sides, gentle. His eyes swung towards Cain, the blond able to see a smear of lipstick from the Queen's kiss on the edge of his lover's mouth.

"Cain? Would you kindly excuse us? I am sure that you can find something to occupy yourself down in my laboratory for a few hours."

The blond scowled. Ambrose was actually going to send him away so that the Queen could fuck his lover? Cain shook his head. "No, sorry."

In Ambrose's arms, the Queen paused in kissing over the Medic's face in order to fire an affronted look at Cain for his refusal. Ambrose scowled back at Cain, speaking more firmly. "Wyatt. Go down to the laboratory until I fetch you. Now."

Cain felt himself growing angry. Ambrose expected him to walk off and let this happen? He knew that his anger was showing on his face, but he didn't bother to hide it.

The Queen murmured, "Perhaps your pet needs to be sent down into the Pens to adjust this inappropriate behavior. Shall I call for the Guards, Ambrose?"

"No, please." Ambrose pleaded, before glaring at Cain. "Wyatt is going to leave, like I asked him to do. Get out of here, Cain."

Throwing the book down onto the sofa, Cain stalked over in the direction of the pair. The Queen was already focusing back on using her mouth to tease Ambrose's ear, as the Medic's dark eyes followed Cain's progress towards them. He saw the blond's eyes burning, jealousy, anger and betrayal in them, but Ambrose did not falter, repeating himself more quietly, "I will come fetch you in the laboratory later."

Cain broke eye contact with a disgusted shake of his head, yanking open the door to the suite. He heard the Queen begin to giggle with delight behind him, before the blond decided that he didn't want to hear anymore as he stalked away.

Unconditionally Conditional - Part Five

Wed, 30 Apr 2008 05:08:29 GMT

Ambrose was just finished up with a scheduled check-up for the Queen when the doors to his laboratory burst open. The Medics were wheeling in a pair of tables, slaves stretched out on them. Ambrose was already stepping over to the sinks, washing his hands before applying a fresh pair of gloves, calmly speaking over his shoulder. "Report?"

"Collapse at one of the work sites, Sir." A Medic informed him in clipped tones. "The one with the broken leg was under the structure when it fell. He was pushed out of the way by another slave, who took the brunt of the impact."

"Damage report?" Ambrose asked as he watched his staff beginning to move their monitoring devices over to the tables, getting ready to deal with the situation. He held a hand out blindly for them to put the charts of the slaves into it, to see if there were any possible allergic reactions that he should know about before he administered any drugs.

"Broken arm and leg. Probably some internal bleeding. He was unconscious when they hauled him from the rubble, so we suspect that there may be a concussion, or some swelling. His pulse is steady, but declining."

Ambrose shook his head, frowning as he flipped over the two charts. "Trying to be a hero, and look where it gets him. Idiot."

He paused, looking down at the second chart in his hand. Reading the name in disbelief. It seemed surreal. Ambrose dropped the charts, turning sharply towards the table behind him, a few steps rushing him to its side as he gasped out, "Wyatt!"

~~~~~~~~

Zero lingered outside of the doors of Ambrose's laboratory, watching the man operate with curiosity. He had heard a report that Wyatt Cain had gotten hurt trying to play hero for some slave down at a work site. The man had come to see for himself if it were true. All of the medics inside were so distracted by their work that they did not even notice him stepping in to watch the proceedings with interest.

He saw Ambrose hovering over Cain's table, the blond looking on the verge of death from his injuries. Cain's body was a bloody mess, as if Zero had treated him to ten beatings in a row. The Trainer leaned back against the wall by one of the sinks, arms folding across his chest as he smirked to himself. It looked pretty dire for the blond.

Zero's attention then shifted to Ambrose, and he became fixated on watching the Medic. Ambrose was snapping out commands and instructions to those in the room, his dark eyes on fire in a way Zero had never seen before. The normally composed Medic was on the verge of panic, though his sense of professionalism did not allow him to give into it. He was operating on Cain, where it appeared that the blond had some internal damage, his white gloves and the sleeves of his coat coated red with blood. Between commands, the Medic was whispering down to the unconscious blond. "Wyatt, stay with me. Just a little longer. Hold on."

They had given Cain some kind of shot, which seemed to steady the man's heart rate, if the monitors were any indication. A few Medics were tending to the more minor injuries, including where Cain's leg was at an awkward angle from the knee down, and his arm from its shoulder. They were getting them set while Ambrose worked, beginning to bind them with self-adhesive bandages. Zero saw them smear something onto the bandages that immediately began to harden into casts.

Ambrose hissed angrily when some of the Medics got too close to where he was working, or asked him questions. He snapped at them, sharply, "If you aren't assisting me directly, then kindly get the hell away!"

His frustration was apparent. Zero was impressed that the Medic could work up that kind of emotional energy. The Trainer watched as the other white-suited figures scattered, a few of them moving to assist those who had already about finished up with the other slave. Ambrose blinked hurriedly, concentrated where he worked, before the Medic cursed softly.

Zero saw him yank off those leather gloves. Saw him wash his hands. Saw him use his bare hands in order to grab those tools again, as he worked on Cain without the slick gloves slipping where they gripped the utensils. Ambrose's pale skin became smeared crimson as he worked, Zero appraising him intently. The Trainer pushed himself away from the wall, moving to slip back out through the doors, thoughtful.

~~~~~~~~~

When Cain woke up, he was surprised that there wasn't as much pain as he expected. The last thing that he remembered was when the structure was falling on him, and an intense wave of pain that swept him away into blackness. He knew that he had almost woken up at some point, that he'd realized that Ambrose was there calling his name. But Cain really couldn't be sure.

Opening up his eyes, the blond realized that he was inside of one of the recovery rooms in the Medical Sector. So he wasn't dead. Cain found that it was impossible for him to move at all, his limbs numb. He panicked for the first couple of seconds, wondering if he had been paralyzed. Yet his eyes were able to spot the IV line that was feeding down into his body at some point, and recognized the label from his time in Ambrose's lab. It was a sedative to keep the patient from moving around after a major surgery. Cain ceased his struggles, relaxing back into the softness of the bed.

His eyes shifted to the side, past the edge of his bed. Ambrose was slumped in a chair nearby, the Medic still dressed in a coat with bloody sleeves, his hands bare where they rested limply in his lap. He looked as if he had not slept much, considering the dark circles underneath his eyes. Cain did not want to disturb him. Instead, he laid there in his bed, watching the man sleep.

Ambrose had saved his life. He deserved a rest.

~~~~~~~~~

By the time Ambrose finally stirred, the Medic stretching in his chair with a yawn, Cain had already started to get some feeling back in his limbs. The blond was laying there with a small smile in place, his voice rough in his throat as he drawled up to the Medic, "Don't know about you, but I feel like someone dropped a truck on me."

"Wyatt!" The man gasped, jumping up from his chair so quickly that it was knocked backwards to clatter on the floor. Ambrose bent over him, eyes full of concern and something else that made Cain feel pleasantly warm all over. His fingers tentatively probed at Cain's injuries as he quietly spoke to him. "The pain should remain pretty minor. I had them pump you full of medication for it. You're going to be bed-ridden for at least a weak, until the hurtloam finishes healing you..."

Ambrose trailed off. Cain saw his face tighten, blinking rapidly as his eyes began to water. That professional tone faded into a shaken whisper, "You almost died, Wyatt."

"I know." The blond said, swallowing thickly in the face of Ambrose's impending tears. "I'm sorry. I reacted without thinking. How's the other guy?"

"Healed and already back at work." The Medic whispered, reaching up to rub at his eyes to clear away that threatening moisture. "His master is a rather prominent business woman of one of the more influential families here at the Palace. My suite is full of gifts of gratitude, addressed to you directly. The Queen even invited me to dine with her as a result of your heroic display."

"Was it a good dinner?" Cain asked.

"I don't know -- I turned her down." Ambrose's smile was tremulous. He took a deep breath to steady himself, shaking his head. "She was pretty shocked by that, I think. But I didn't want to leave here until I knew that you were going to be all right."

Cain nodded faintly, looking down towards his hand that still wouldn't work for him. He was able to twitch his fingers, though, catching Ambrose's attention. The Medic took that signal, as he took hold of Cain's hand with his own. He laced their fingers together, with a soft smile. "You'll be just fine. I can't do anything for your obvious brain damage, but I managed to heal the rest."

"Thank you." Cain whispered, eyes fluttering closed. "Will you stay with me until I fall back asleep?"

"Of course, Wyatt."

Cain was happy to fall back to sleep with the feeling of Ambrose's hand locked securely with his.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ambrose resumed his daily duties once Cain had proven that he was going to survive just fine. The Medic would come to visit him for lunch, sneaking the blond some of his own food, whispering conspiratorally, "The food they give patients here is terrible."

Cain allowed the man to hand feed him, despite the fact that Ambrose knew very well that the blond's arms were working just fine now. The cast was an annoyance on his right side, but the left was undamaged from the hurtloam they had spread over the flesh wounds. Ambrose took delight in doing it, so Cain wasn't going to argue.

He would tell the blond all about his day, or what was news he had heard of the Resistance movements outside the Palace, or shared tidbits of gossip that was working its way through the ranks. Apparently the Queen was pregnant again. So, too, were both of her daughters. And the rumor was that it was all by the same man. Ambrose shook his head as he nibbled on some vegetables from his plate. "Probably Ahamo. The man's a sicko -- I wouldn't put it past him to boink his own daughters."

Cain chuckled at Ambrose's choice of words, nodding his agreement. "Don't find it hard to believe myself. Did you ever go have dinner with her, like she asked you to?"

"I've been putting it off." The Medic said softly. "When do you think I would have found time to do that, considering that I've been here visiting you every night?"

"Don't you think that she's going to get suspicious?" Cain asked, frowning. "If you keep turning her down to spend time with me, eventually she will figure out that something is up."

Ambrose clenched his hands around his plate. "I don't care. Going to dinner with her is just her way of having an excuse to lure me into bed with her. She's probably bothered that we haven't fucked in nearly a month."

"I guess that makes sense, then. I just don't want you to get in trouble over it or anything."

"Just leave it to me, Wyatt. I know what I'm doing." Ambrose assured him with a smile. Then a bell rang softly, the Medic clucking his tongue in disappointment. "Break is over. Time for me to get back to work. I'll leave my plate here in case you get hungry. I will see you when my shift is finished." Ambrose bent over the blond, kissing him tenderly.

He walked to the door with a smile, winking to Cain as he opened it. "Try to get some more rest. You should be ready to be released by tomorrow, if you're a good boy and don't make the Doctor angry." Ambrose chuckled at the mock glare which the blond fired at him, before stepping out of the room.

~~~~~~~~~

They released Cain from the Medical Sector the next day, once the examination indicated that his injuries were healed. The blond was allowed to get up for the first time in over a week, having to take some time to get his limbs to work properly again as Cain got used to walking. He wanted to go see Ambrose right away, asking the Medic who brought him his clothes if his leader were available for Cain to visit. The man shook his head. "Master Ambrose is in a meeting right now with Trainer Zero."

Cain found himself frowning at the news, moving hurriedly to dress himself. "Where are they meeting at?"

"In Master Ambrose's lab." The Medic informed him. "Trainer Zero gave implicit instructions that they were not to be disturbed, so we have been out tending to the research labs."

That made Cain stop with his pants halfway up his legs, looking quickly towards the Medic. "You mean to tell me that Ambrose is alone with Zero right now?"

"Yes. Their meeting just began. Master Ambrose sent me to release you right before they started, and instruct you to return immediately to his suite until he -- Mister Cain!" The Medic stammered as the blond finished tugging his pants into place, Cain securing them hurriedly before he swept past the man and out the door at a run in the direction of Ambrose's laboratory.

~~~~~~~~~~

Standing with his arms folded, Ambrose stared flatly at the man who had invited himself into his laboratory and sent his Medics scattering for the hills. He wasn't in the mood for this today. Cain was due to be released, and Ambrose wanted to be there instead of here. "Do you mind telling me what this is about, Zero? I'm in a bit of a hurry."

"That's right. Wyatt Cain is getting released today, isn't he?" Zero asked without paying the Medic much mind. He wandered around the lab at a slow stroll, reaching over to poke and prod at different things which caught his interest on the counters.

"Not that it's any business of yours, but yes, he should be getting released soon."

"It's a funny thing, with you and Cain." The Trainer remarked conversationally, Ambrose following the man around the room with his glaring eyes. "I mean.. he comes along, and suddenly you undergo this odd little transformation. Wanting to have a pet out of the blue, becoming so hard for the Queen to get a hold of. You don't even come to the Chamber any more to see the newest arrivals. You've become.. different, Ambrose."

"Again, Zero, I am trying to figure out how that is any of your business." Ambrose let some anger inch into his voice, wanting to convey to the other man that his temper was getting tested here.

"Take off your gloves."

"What?" Ambrose blinked, not sure if he had heard the man correctly.

Zero was smirking, dropping his hand from the counter as he turned to regard the Medic. "I told you to take off your gloves, Ambrose. Do I need to ask a third time? If so, I'll ask harder."

That made Ambrose instantly cautious. He stared at the Trainer, trying to figure out the man's intentions. Slowly, without taking his eyes off of Zero, Ambrose raised his hands and slowly pulled off the leather gloves, before dropping them onto the table nearby. He raised both hands, palm facing Zero, and wiggled his fingers in the air. "Satisfied?"

"Nearly." Zero nodded, his faint smile actually genuine. He sauntered away from the counter towards Ambrose, stopping in front of the Medic, eyes amused on the man's increasingly wary face. "Now I want you to touch me."

Ambrose dropped his hands to his sides, exasperated. "This is getting ridiculous, Zero, I don't--"

The Trainer grabbed hold of both the Medic's arms with a brutal grip, shaking him roughly as he forced Ambrose close, happy to see the man wince. "I won't keep repeating my orders, Ambrose. I ordered you to touch me, so fucking touch me."

He saw that the Medic was struggling to keep his cool, which was admirable. Ambrose grudgingly lifted his hands up, fingertips touching gingerly to Zero's elbows, since the Trainer's grip on his arms made any other contact difficult. Zero nodded slowly, but didn't release the Medic. Ambrose spoke quietly, his voice on the verge of starting to shake. "I did what you asked, Zero. Now let go of me. There is work that I have to do."

"Not yet." Zero shook his head. "We're not done with our talk yet. You see, there is something that I need to tell you, Ambrose. Something that you might find very interesting to hear."

"What might that be?" Ambrose asked hesitantly, turning his face to the side as Zero bent in to brush his nose against a tousled curl.

In their closeness, Zero's volume dropped, so that the words would leak more privately into Ambrose's ear. "I did some research on your pet. Turns out that Wyatt Cain is listed as a missing member of the Resistance Fighters. It doesn't surprise me, really. He strikes me as the type who would be into that, considering his little heroics at the work site. Did he tell you that he was a Fighter, Ambrose?"

"He might have mentioned it."

Zero laughed quietly, before Ambrose felt the man brushing a kiss against his throat. He jerked in the Trainer's grip, but that merely made Zero hold him tighter. The man continued, "As I was going through the listings, just on that hunch, I found out an interesting tidbit of information. Can you guess what it was? What I might have discovered?"

Ambrose silently shook his head. He had a sudden sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, as it twisted in knots. The Medic was smart enough to guess where Zero was going with this line of talk.

With a spreading grin, Zero's mouth danced against Ambrose's ear, as he whispered, "I saw your name on the list, Ambrose. A Resistance Spy, missing in action. That's very interesting information, don't you think?"

The Medic searched wildly around the room, trying to figure out what to say in response. His heart had begun to race, breath hitching in his chest. He licked his lips to wet them, finding that his mouth had gone completely dry, whispering breathlessly, "What do you want, Zero?"

"I haven't had much fun lately, thanks to you." The man complained at a murmur, biting at Ambrose's ear in reproach. "Honestly, I think you owe me some compensation. You can make it up to me yourself, with this delicious body." Zero forced the Medic's body tighter against him, a soft sound of pleasure rolling in his throat. "I haven't forgotten, you know. What you felt like. How well you broke for me. You were by far my favorite, before the Queen took you away."

"Will it.. will it make you 'forget' about that information?" Ambrose asked quietly, angling his eyes up reluctantly towards the man.

"It might, if you perform well." Zero said after brief consideration. "If not, then I suppose that you and Cain will be enjoying the Slave Pens together, hm? Then it shouldn't be too hard for me to convince the Queen to give him back over to my care." He leered.

Ambrose shut his eyes. He had to make himself do this. If not just for his sake, then definitely to keep Cain out of this monster's hands. Ambrose tried to fight down the nausea churning in his stomach as he nodded softly, before whispering, "What do you want me to do?"

Zero grinned in triumph. He released his hold on Ambrose's arms, in order to take hold of the Medic by his hips. The smaller man was swung up onto the same table where he had been operating on Cain just a week prior, Zero planting himself firmly between Ambrose's thighs. "Mmm.. I think taking it rough and quick first will get my appetite worked up. After that, I guess we'll see what my mood is like."

The Medic stared down at him, eyes blankly watching as Zero began to work the catches of his jacket open. Ambrose offered no resistance when the man leaned up to kiss him, feeling the calloused pads of the Trainer's fingers sliding over his chest once that jacket had been opened. Having no real enthusiasm in the act, Ambrose could only summon up a half-hearted effort to return Zero's kiss.

The Trainer whispered against his lips. "Put your arms around my neck, Ambrose."

Complying, the Medic's arms slid around it. His lips were forced apart by Zero's tongue, the man openly purring his enjoyment as if to spite Ambrose. He felt Zero already reaching to his trousers. The Trainer wasn't one to waste time on something like foreplay when there was an orgasm to be had. Ambrose wondered, vaguely, who exactly had taught the man how to have sex.

Ambrose could feel himself starting to panic as Zero began to tug at his pants, forcing the Medic to raise his hips. Could he really go through with this again? To save himself, to save Cain? Zero's hands were rough on his thighs, Ambrose's throat tightening as his panic reached a fevered pitch.

Brown eyes locked with Zero's, and something in them made the Trainer pause, looking at Ambrose uncertainly. The Medic's face smoothed carefully blank as he made a decision.

Then Ambrose shifted the fit of his arms around the Trainer's neck and began to squeeze with all the strength his adrenaline could muster.

Unconditionally Conditional - Part Four

Wed, 30 Apr 2008 00:07:06 GMT

Cain came to understand that he had actually managed to catch the fancy of more than one interested owners. He noticed more of them stealing glances at him, men and women alike. The looks from the women, he didn't mind. The men, though, he longed to punch. Little by little, they were becoming more blatant about it.

He asked Ambrose why it was happening. The Medic explained that he was too lenient with Cain in public. His lack of possessive behavior made the other owners think that he couldn't handle the blond. A few of them had even offered to take him off Ambrose's hands to be put to better use. It was actually Cain who had suggested the public displays of affection, not wanting those strangers to drool over him.

Ambrose did his best. He would reach out to touch Cain several times while they were out, even if it was just to press his fingers to the man's arm when they were stepping out of the elevator. The more open displays, kissing and such, were reserved for those times when one of those admiring owners hovered somewhere nearby. Ambrose would take hold of the blond's head, hands pressing firmly to either side of Cain's face, lips reaching down to coat the other man's mouth in a thorough kiss. It was a silent communication for, Back Off, He's Mine.

Then, a strange thing began to happen. Ambrose would kiss him even when those masters were not around, sometimes when they were alone together in his laboratory. Cain would return the affection, mouth moving against the Medic's. They would break apart, breathless, and Ambrose would return immediately back to his work, or his conversation, or whatever he was doing before getting wrapped up in kissing Cain. And Cain would sit, silent, enjoying the lingering sensations on his lips.

He wasn't sure when they had begun to dance around each other like that. Cain was surprised to find himself looking forward to Ambrose's sporadic bits of public affection. In private, the Medic was withdrawn as usual, careful not even to brush his hands against Cain's when they were playing cards. It left the blond trying to figure out exactly what was happening between them.

More often, Cain found himself staring at Ambrose. As appraising of the Medic as those owners had been of him. He drank in the sight of the man while he was working, or reading, when Ambrose would reach up absently and push brown curls out of his face. Cain wondered what they would feel like to touch. The blond also marveled over the power of Ambrose's dark eyes, able to command anger, humor, sadness and detachment with flawless ease. Cain liked how they looked when Ambrose laughed, the lines that formed in their corners when the Medic really let himself go.

He had also made several studies of Ambrose when the Medic was unclothed in front of him. Pale all over, with a swimmer's build, or perhaps a dancer's. Thin but not unhealthy; the musculature present but suited to his slim figure. Cain found it hard to avert his eyes as he watched Ambrose walk from the bathroom to the bedroom, where the Medic would dress without any notice of Cain's observance.

Cain couldn't deny it any longer: He had built up a heavy attraction to the Medic. The difficult part was figuring out if that was a mutual feeling. Thinking back to those times when Ambrose had kissed him without anything to prompt him, Cain remembered how the Medic's eyes looked when they parted; half-lidded, pleased, but wary of his own desire. Cain theorized that it was likely that Ambrose was wrestling with his own appreciative feelings.

The blond finally decided that it was time to test his theory.

He waited until the Medic came to the suite after Ambrose's shift had ended. Cain had requested Ambrose's dinner from the chefs early for the evening, so that it was waiting when the man arrived. He heard the door open, the lock being twisted behind Ambrose, before the Medic came strolling into the living room, inhaling deeply. "That smells divine. I am starving! Four deliveries, three sets of stitches, five medical exams and ten shots without one break for lunch."

Cain stood near the cart, watching Ambrose take one of the domed lids off. The Medic smiled delightedly, as he tugged off the leather gloves. He stepped into the bathroom, water running as the man washed off his hands. Ambrose's voice called out to Cain, obviously in a good mood, "I made some progress on that energy pill we'd discussed. Once I'm sure that it's safe for consumption, then I'm going to have it tried out on some of the slaves at the work sites. That'll help them power through their work without having to worry about getting tired halfway through."

"That's great." Cain answered, watching the Medic come walking out of the bathroom. Ambrose reached down to the exposed platter, picking up one of the small slices of fruit used to garnish a dish, as the man popped it eagerly into his mouth.

He noticed, in mid-chew, that Cain was staring at him. Ambrose swallowed down that bit of fruit, an eyebrow arching quizzically as he blinked at the blond. "What?"

Cain stepped in closer, hands taking hold of Ambrose's face. Those curls felt soft, just as he'd imagined. As the Medic's eyes began to widen, Cain's head dropped down, mouth covering that other one before Ambrose could work up any words. Cain kept his eyes open, locking them deeply into those shocked browns, watching Ambrose's reaction. That surprise faded, as the Medic's mouth became unfrozen from shock, lips applying their own gentle pressure back into the kiss.

Ambrose parted from it quickly, looking uncertainly up at the blond. He whispered, softly, "We're not in public, Wyatt. You don't have to do that in here."

"I'm doing it because I want to." Cain whispered back, blue eyes flitting intently over Ambrose's face. "I'm doing it because I want you. Private, public.. I want you, Ambrose. Let me have you, here, tonight. Please."

Those brown eyes slid away from him, Ambrose's breath coming quicker now, enough that his chest was visibly shuddering from it. His whisper was impossibly quieter, "You don't know what you're asking, Wyatt. You don't know who you're asking it from."

Cain shook his head, angling his gaze until he snagged hold of Ambrose's eyes again, so that the Medic had to look up to him. "I don't care. Let me have you. Let me touch you."

His mouth pressed down on Ambrose's again, to prove the truth of his words. He coaxed the man's lips into a response, Cain feeling that mouth losing its reluctance. Then Ambrose sighed deep in his chest, and the Medic's wrists locked around the back of Cain's neck, as the man gave in. Cain found himself letting go of his own reluctance at that point.

He dropped his hands from Ambrose's head, sliding them down the leather coat of the slim figure, his fingers dancing around to the base of the Medic's back, drawing that body tight against him. The warmth of that smaller figure had him moaning quietly, Ambrose tightening the loop of his arms around Cain's neck as their kiss became deeper, hotter. Their mouths opened, tongues reaching, exploring each other like that for now.

Ambrose placed bare hands on him for the first time, as the Medic shifted his embrace in order to press his fingers into the back of Cain's neck. He kneaded at the blond's shoulders, causing Cain to shiver in rememberance of when they had touched him in the chamber in just this manner. The Medic's fingers nimbly worked at the catch of the collar around Cain's neck, unlatching it so that it fell to the floor between their feet. His fingers were still steady, even when they began to caress down Cain's back.

Cain clutched that body tighter to him, hungry for more. The feel of the leather shell keeping him apart from Ambrose's skin was starting to drive him crazy. He let go of the Medic, but only to begin working on the catches to that coat, wanting to undress Ambrose as he had memorized the Medic doing before. Breaking off the kiss when it seemed that Cain was having trouble focusing in both areas, Ambrose was panting as he looked down to watch the blond clumsily fight with those catches. The Medic kindly assisted Cain when it got too frustrating for him. Once that coat was open, Cain pushed it back off Ambrose's shoulders, and it also fell to the floor unnoticed.

His mouth immediately latched on to that revealed flesh. Cain pressed his mouth to the base of Ambrose's throat, caressing it with his kiss. Ambrose bit down on his bottom lip, his hands slipping up to rest limply on the blond's shoulders as Cain started to blaze a trail with his tongue, painting a line of heat down the Medic's chest. He felt Ambrose lurch sharply when he wrapped his mouth around one of the man's nipples, Cain tightening his hold on the Medic's hips, tasting that nub of flesh with languid twists of his tongue.

"Wyatt.." Ambrose whispered down to him, fingers curling over on Cain's skin, nails denting the flesh in his enjoyment. The noises of Cain's mouth working between them filled the room, as Ambrose bit on his lip again to bite back a moan. Cain switched, working at the other nipple, even worrying the flesh with the tips of his teeth. He bit gently, making Ambrose sigh delightedly, "Do that again, harder."

Cain blinked at the request, but complied. He bit that flesh harder, and heard his obedience cause Ambrose to moan. As much as he knew the Medic was enjoying the attention there, Cain's hunger had him intent on other goals. He sank down, kneeling slowly in front of the Medic with a creak of leather. Cain felt those pants starting to become uncomfortably tighter. It could wait, he decided, since he wanted to sate his desire for exploring Ambrose first.

His hands slid to the front of Ambrose's pants, working the buttons open. Cain peeled the leather back, mouth jumping down to the flesh being exposed, licking the salty tang of sweat which had gathered under the band of those trousers. Ambrose began to slide his fingers through Cain's short blond hairs, caressing him as that mouth moved over him.

When Cain took hold of the man's length, Ambrose dropped his head forward with a gasp, clenching the blond's head to keep himself steadied. Cain looked up to watch the man's face as he began to stroke his fingers over that growing hardness, in order to see the pleasure wash over it. Ambrose's eyes were tightly shut, lip clamped between his teeth hard enough that it was white. It gave the blond encouragement, as he began to work with more confidence, tightening the grip of his fingers as he sped up.

Ambrose sagged slightly, his knees becoming unsteady as Cain worked his body. Cain looked away from the man's face in order to watch his hand sliding over Ambrose. It occurred to him that he wanted to do more than feel; he wanted to taste. Emboldened by the idea, the blond bowed his head in, mouth taking hold of the tip of that length in his hand. Ambrose whimpered at this development, as Cain unwrapped his fingers from around that throbbing length, taking it deeper into his mouth.

He felt Ambrose's fingers digging into his shoulders again when Cain began to move, not entirely certain what he was doing while under his own power here, but figuring that he could learn fast enough. Ambrose definitely seemed to be enjoying it. His hips began to buck softly towards Cain's mouth, finding a rhythm that they both could handle.

Then Ambrose was whispering, desperate, "Wyatt, you need to.. un... to stop. I won't last.."

Cain drew back, causing the Medic to sigh with relief and some sexual frustration. He stood up slowly, hands clasping Ambrose's sides to keep the man from falling over. When they kissed, the blond could taste salt and copper mingling between their lips, from his work on Ambrose's body and from the Medic's lip biting drawing blood.

Without breaking that passionate kiss, Cain managed to half-drag Ambrose towards the Medic's bed. They fell on it together, Cain covering that slim figure with his bigger bulk, feeling the hardness in his pants straining for freedom. Ambrose was working at them already, undoing the buttons. Cain almost sighed in relief when he felt the tension of his pants loosen. The Medic was drawing out the blond's length, testing it with a few strokes, finding it as hard as his own.

He swore under his breath, beginning to tug Ambrose's pants down, forcing them off the man's legs. The shoes were a brief obstacle, but Cain didn't even bother trying to untie them as he wedged them off Ambrose's feet. Once he had that body naked, he pushed up intimately close, feeling the muscles of the Medic's body trembling from the intensity of their passion. Cain slid his hands over the shapes of Ambrose's figure beneath him, before snaking a hand around underneath the Medic so that his fingers could probe him intimately.

Ambrose tore his mouth away, whispering shakily, "Drawer.. bedside.. table. Ointment..."

Cain grunted in acknowledgement, hating to have to take even one hand away from the man in order to accomplish the task. His fingers blindly snagged the handle of the drawer, mouth fixed back on kissing Ambrose, as Cain pulled it open and fished around inside for the ointment. He nearly dropped it when the man under his body purred and arched up against him in a sensual movement of muscle.

The blond's hands were shaking when he opened up the tube, trying not to make a mess of everything in his haste. Ambrose laughed softly, taking it from him to keep Cain from struggling too much longer. The Medic took over when the blond faltered, Cain able to feel Ambrose's hand moving between them, spreading that lubrication over Cain's length, making the man nearly lose it right then. Cain had to grit his teeth together, as Ambrose lingered with teasing him, growling out a warning, "Stop that, or we won't get very far.."

"Sorry.." Ambrose whispered, in a way that didn't sound sincere at all. He tossed the tube to the side, Cain feeling the Medic guiding him with a sure hand. Cain had to fight with all of his willpower not to release early as he felt himself sinking into Ambrose. The Medic's head arched back on the bed as Cain pushed forward, careful not to hurt the man, wanting to be as gentle as his lust would allow him.

They strained together, cautiously at first, until they were used to it. Then their bodies found the perfect rhythm, Cain rocking his hips above Ambrose. He felt the Medic's arms lock around him, knees pressing against the sides of his ribs as Cain continued to move, claiming that body underneath him. Ambrose's body yielded to him, accepting him hungrily, as the Medic's head rolled against the bed. Cain gripped the hips of the man, angling them up as he continued to labor. There was sweat and heat between them, burning intensely.

Cain was unable to last. He rocked forward, clutching Ambrose's hips desperately, and with a few timed thrusts, let himself go. His moans were loud, filling the suite with the sound. Ambrose was close, and the Medic lasted only seconds longer than Cain. However, his release was much quieter, a few whimpers that he fed into the fabric of the bedspread which he turned his mouth towards. Cain continued to work through their orgasms, feeling Ambrose spill between their bodies, the blond wanting to make the moments last as long as he could.

When it was passing, he felt his arms becoming too shaky to support him, so Cain dropped himself carefully down to lay his weight on Ambrose's body. The Medic did not protest, arms loosely wrapped around Cain's torso. He felt the blond nuzzling affectionately against his throat, Ambrose purring quietly. Then Cain felt the Medic reaching to the side, before the thick warmth of the blankets were wrapped around them. Ambrose was whispering to him, but the exertion had left Cain already groggy, "Stay. Stay like this with me."

Cain nodded against the man's neck, tucking his face in, able to find himself falling to sleep without any difficulty.

~~~~~~~~~

They kept their behavior as close to normal in public after that night. It was more difficult than they imagined, considering that their hunger for each other had become nearly uncontrollable after their initial lovemaking. Cain was unable to prevent himself from getting caught up in Ambrose at times, and he would take the Medic in a swift embrace, kissing him heatedly. They would grab for each other whenever they had a moment of privacy, and when it wasn't a quick collision of passion, then sometimes Ambrose would merely stand there in Cain's arms.

In the sanctuary of the suite, they barely found time to eat the dinner being brought to them, since their nights had become full of more sessions of sex. Ambrose surprised Cain with some of the clever ideas he came up with for them to try. The blond even let himself submit to the Medic a few times, when Ambrose could persuade him to allow it. By the end of that first week, Cain had learned everything there was to know about his lover's body, and vice versa. It was intense passion each time, but always ended in that tender embrace.

Ambrose admitted to Cain one evening, while they were in the bath together, that he was afraid that someone would catch on to what was going on if they weren't more careful in public. Cain offered the Medic some comfort, pointing out that they were discreet, and that it was expected of Ambrose to use him in such a manner if he so chose.

"That's the thing.." Ambrose murmured with a frown. "When we're together, I don't want to use you, I want to be used. I'm not supposed to let you have any control over me. We could screw like rabbits all over the Palace and no one would bat an eye. But if they knew that I was giving you that kind of power..." He trailed off, then forced a smile and dabbed a bit of bubbles on the tip of Cain's nose.

They became more careful after that discussion, to ease Ambrose's fears. Cain would wait for the Medic to initiate the contact, like he had done before, though Ambrose was able to do it for more easily than he used to. He seemed to enjoy teasing Cain at times, making the man feed him fruit off his plate at the cafe, lips wrapping intimately around the blond's fingers when he could catch them. Cain would look up to find those brown eyes hot with desire, nearly losing his own concern over where they were, wanting to simply drag the Medic off into some dark corner and fuck him right there against the wall.

Their restraint in public merely made their evenings that more heated. Half the time, they were on each other before the door had even closed. Cain had torn a few of Ambrose's jackets -- but the Medic had assured him that the tailors could fix the damage. Three pairs of pants had to be ordered for Cain, replacing the ones which the Medic had left beyond repair in his enthusiasm. It was a beautiful sort of love affair.

Until their bliss began to fall apart.

Unconditionally Conditional - Part Three

Tue, 29 Apr 2008 22:35:02 GMT

Cain tensed when he heard the lock of the door turning. He'd left the tub minutes ago, exploring through Ambrose's suite to try and find some clothes to wear. Of course, nothing here would possibly fit him, considering the differences in their body types. That, and Cain wasn't about to try and squeeze himself into one of those small leather Medic coats. He had settled for getting the blanket wrapped around his body again, easing back against one of the walls in the adjoining room as he peeked to see who was coming in around a corner.

It was just Ambrose returning. The Medic was wheeling in a large metal cart with three shelves. Cain's nostrils flared as he smelled delicious food wafting from it, his stomach clenching in response. He stepped out into sight as Ambrose turned to lock the door behind him, faintly amused. "I didn't know that delivering room service was in your job description."

The Medic flashed him a teasing glare, before pushing the cart past where Cain stood, stopping it in the living room. "Normally, it isn't. But I was asked to bring this in. These are gifts from the Queen, in her 'regret that my pet was so misused while entrusted to Zero's care'." Ambrose pointed to the domed tray on the top. "Feel free to help yourself. I'm far from hungry right now."

Cain watched as the man walked away from the tray, tugging off his white gloves. He saw Ambrose toss them into a trash bin, before disappearing into the other room. With a shrug, Cain reached for the dome, removing it from the top of the silver platter beneath. The food was unrecognizable, but after taking a few taste tests of the different dishes, Cain found them all to his liking. He took the platter off the tray, placing it down on the short table in the middle of the living room. Sitting on the floor in front of it, he promptly began to eat.

Ambrose returned, tugging on a fresh pair of black gloves. He smirked as he saw that Cain had already eaten half the platter. The Medic strolled over, seating himself on the floor opposite of the man and his food. "The chefs here are the best in the realm. The Queen collects them."

Grunting around a mouthful of food, Cain didn't doubt that claim. He took a break between spooning another helping into his mouth, asking quietly, "What's happened with Zero?"

"Demoted." Ambrose answered, somewhat impressed by how fast Cain was devouring the food. He watched the man continue to drive through the delicacies. "He's been put in the slave pens for a few days, as a lesson. Once that's done, he'll be back to just a standard level Trainer until the Queen is satisfied that he has reformed himself." The Medic rolled his eyes, proving that he didn't expect that to happen.

"What happens to me?" Cain asked as he drank down a full cup of wine that Ambrose set down for him.

Ambrose shrugged. "Nothing. Oh, I wouldn't expect an apology from anyone anytime soon, but there isn't going to be any consequence against you, aside from more bitter behavior from Zero. The Queen understood how upset I was to find out about what Zero had done to you. I was able to convince her that I no longer trusted anyone else to see to your training. I demanded that I be the one allowed to train you. She agreed."

He leaned back against the couch behind him with a low sigh. "So now you'll be in my complete care. You will remain at my side when we are in public, and stay in here the rest of the time, for your own safety."

"I thought that you didn't know anything about training people?"

With a quiet chuckle, Ambrose averted his eyes. "You could say that I learned by example. Since you're cooperative with me, we should be able to at least pull off looking like we're operating by the rules. In private, it will be informal. Like now. I really don't have any interest in having a slave of my own." He shook his head. "In public, though, it's different. There is a certain manner of conduct which we will be expected to follow."

"Like what?" Cain asked, putting his utensils down for now as he listened to Ambrose speak.

"For one, you'll be expected to behave like a slave." Ambrose smirked. "Fortunately, I don't have a reputation for being an exhibitionist, so you won't have to worry about any repeat performances like that one in the chamber. Unless the Queen asks again. Can't be helped, in that instance. Aside from that, you'll just be doing tasks for me; carrying things, fetching things that I might need, being a good little assistant. I am not a demanding 'master'."

"Sounds to me like I'm pretty damn fortunate that you spoke up, then."

"Oh, most certainly." The Medic gestured around vaguely. "There'll be times when I don't need your help, at which point you will be joining some of the other slaves at one of the building sites. No one bothers them much, not even the foreman. It'll keep you from having to stay in here all the time, so you won't get cabin fever."

Cain nodded. Building was something that he enjoyed doing. "Anything else?"

"There is the matter of your attire." Ambrose pursed his lips together, eyeing the blond. "You'll be expected to wear the standard uniform of a Council Member's slave." He rose, moving to withdraw an armful of black from the bottom rack of the cart. With a tiny smirk, the Medic unfurled a pair of black leather pants, dangling them in front of Cain. "Apparently, no one ever thought to put too much color variety in the uniforms around here."

"Um..." Cain glowered uncertainly at the pants, "there IS more, right?"

Ambrose nodded, that smirk spreading as he held up a strip of black in his other hand, which Cain saw was a collar. "Pants plus accessory." The Medic tossed them onto the couch behind the blond, shaking his head. "Look at it on the bright side -- at least you won't have to worry about finding things to match. There's some shoes, too. That's it."

"I guess it's better than walking around naked." The blond reasoned, trying to convince himself that he could tolerate wearing the stuff. Cain fingered the hem of the leather pants, still doubtful.

That made Ambrose laugh, which Cain found to be a pleasant sound. It made him smile, despite everything that had happened to him. Ambrose delicately patted him on his left shoulder, gesturing to the platter. "Finish eating, then get dressed. I'll take you on a tour of the facilities. You might as well start getting a feel for the Palace."

"Sure." Cain murmured, before he resumed clearing off the rest of the platter, enjoying the comfortable silence that fell between him and the Medic.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Once they were outside, Ambrose underwent a personality change which amazed Cain. This was what he had glimpsed of the Medic when the man came to examine him in his cell. Cold, detached, impersonal. Ambrose walked stiffly down the corridor from his suite, silently beckoning for Cain to follow.

Cain still felt uncomfortable in the leather pants, which were too tight in his opinion, considering how little they left to the imagination. He kept tugging at the collar around his throat, convinced that it was choking him, though Ambrose would occasionally raise a gloved hand to slap his fingers away from the leather. "Stop that, or they'll downgrade you to a pair of skimpy underwear."

Hearing that was enough to keep Cain from fussing with it much afterwards. It still bothered him, but he tried to let himself phase it out of the forefront of his mind. He kept pace with Ambrose, staying behind the man, as that was what he had been instructed to do. The Medic had said that Cain was expected to keep behind him at all times, as a sign of ownership. Cain found it harder to manage than he'd thought, since his longer strides kept inching up to the Medic's side.

By the time they left the residential area, they had found a pace which suited him better, so that Cain could walk without having to lurch his steps and avoid colliding into Ambrose's back. They had come out into a multi-layer area, a miniature city that stretched up out of sight, and down below. There were lights on in some of the places, which Cain realized were work stations, shops, and storage rooms. At the center of the circular spire was a beam of green light which shot up from somewhere far below. Cain stared at it in wonder.

"That's the Beam. It's the energy source which runs the power through this place. You are standing in the core of the Palace, the very heart of its operations. We call this the Central District." Ambrose explained softly. "Here, you'll find whatever you are looking for, if it exists in the realm. There are businesses, restaurants, brothels, bars. Everything from clothes to cars, for those who are allowed to purchase. Many of the Palace's slaves work in those places. They don't get paid for their work, so all the purchases become profit once the cost of importing them is covered."

"So the upper crust lives comfortably off the sweat and effort of their working class." Cain remarked.

"That's not an uncommon way for society to operate." Ambrose pointed out, gloved fingers touching to Cain's arm. "Come on. I'll show you the Slave Quarter. You can see examples of how you are expected to behave. It will be easier than me trying to explain. Demonstration is a useful tool for education."

They stepped into an elevator which took them down towards the lower levels. Ambrose leaned against the side of the box the whole way there, keeping his distance from Cain. The blond noticed it, frowning. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, not at all." Ambrose answered, allowing that detached mask to slip for a moment as he smiled faintly. "I just hate this part of the Palace. Too many bad memories."

"Bad memories? You mean that..?" Cain trailed off.

"I didn't start out a Medic, Wyatt. I started out as a slave, same as you." Ambrose had focused his eyes towards the doors of the elevator, their color darker than usual in his unhappiness. "It was only because of the Queen and her daughters that I have come to be in this position. They happened upon me one day while touring the Slave Quarter. I guess they found me charming enough to take back up with them."

"You were the Queen's slave?"

"Yes. I was just a general service slave for a year before she found me. Then I was her personal slave for nearly ten years. She was a slightly better person back then. I asked her why she had chosen me to serve her, and she told me that something about my eyes broke her heart." Ambrose smirked to himself, humorless. "I was a good servant. She found out that I was highly intelligent -- I was a scholar before I was captured, and eventually decided that I would be better put to use in the Medic field. Being good at my job, and having an in with the Queen, I managed to work myself quickly up to the lead position which I have now. That ranks me up with the Royal Council, which is why I have such special privileges."

Cain nodded. "It doesn't sound like you had such a rough times of things."

Ambrose scoffed, jaw clenching. "Those eleven years were hell. Pure hell. I was a slave, a pawn, a plaything. Zero likes it rub it in my face even now about the things he was allowed to do to me in the past. I was trained by him, same as you. And mistreated by him, the same as you, too. He still refuses to acknowledge me as an equal, considering my history. If not for my medical oath not to take a life, I would have ended him years ago."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to bring up all that heavy stuff on you. We can drop it, if you'd like."

"It's fine. With them knowing how I was treated in the past, it gives me allowance to keep them all at a distance now. They know better than to try and scale the walls I have built up." Ambrose's fists clenched, leather creaking. "I prefer it that way. Which is why I.." He held up one of those gloved hands, indicating it, "Well, you were wondering about why I wear these things. That's one of the reasons."

Cain was silent after that, berating himself for getting them fixed on that topic of conversation. The Medic had done so much for him already, and Cain was rubbing salt into the man's wounds. He felt like an ass. Their silence continued until they reached their destination, elevator doors sliding open before Ambrose stepped out with Cain in tow.

The Beam was stronger in the center of this portion of the Palace, but there weren't nearly as many lights as there had been in the upper levels. This gave the darkened place a green tint, since that central power source was one of the few sources of illumination. There were lamps here and there that glowed pale yellow, yet they weren't enough to shake the seedy atmosphere of the Quarter.

Ambrose was walking hurriedly now, as if wanting to get this part of the tour over with as quickly as possible. Cain increased his pace to keep up, looking around them to the open faces of the different businesses which were down here. He saw a small cafe, tables placed out in a small adjoining courtyard. A woman was reading a book, seated at one of the tables with a cup of something steaming near her elbow. Her other hand was curled absently around the neck of a man kneeling at her feet, which Cain identified as a slave from his attire -- the slaves of lesser ranked people still had the collar and pants, but they were green to match the color of the place.

The next building over, there were a pair of female slaves that were in the middle of sex, while two men who appeared to be their owners looked on with interest. Cain found himself lingering to appreciate the display as well, though Ambrose quickly yanked on his arm to get the blond back on track. No one else seemed to pay much interest to the spectacle, as if it were as commonly seen as that woman had been reading her book. Cain marveled, wondering what kind of sick joint this place was if public displays of sex were so uninteresting to the residents here.

Ambrose took him around the full circle of the Quarter, pointing out slaves here and there for Cain to note. He wanted Cain to notice their posture, how they held themselves, how they served the fully clothed people who were visiting this place. Ambrose explained to Cain that this was how he would be expected to act while they were in public, in order to keep up appearances. Cain tried to memorize what he could, though the information and observations which Ambrose kept droning on about were too much for his brain to process right now.

They came towards the end of the loop, to where a large metal corral stood. There were slaves of all sorts inside of it, Cain saw them through the planks that held them inside. He frowned as he looked up at the sign above it. Slave Pens. They had people in there as if they were cattle on a farm, instead of human beings. Ambrose was going to walk past it without a glance, but something inside of it caught his attention. He stopped Cain with a hand against the blond's chest, before the Medic went sauntering up to the gate of the pens.

Clasping his gloved hands behind his back, Ambrose cocked his head sharply to the side, addressing one of the people leaning heavily against the gate. His voice was coldly teasing. "Aw. That looks like it hurts something fierce."

"Shut up." The man growled back at Ambrose, a hand sweeping out to try and strike at the Medic, who danced back away with a low chuckle of amusement.

Cain realized that it was Zero inside the pen. They had shaved his hair off in order to stitch up the split which Ambrose's hit had caused, and judging by Zero's dire mood, Cain wagered they hadn't bothered to give him much for the pain. Ambrose retaliated to that attempt at hitting him by kicking the gate beside where Zero's head was resting, the metal resonating loudly. Cain took great satisfaction in seeing the Trainer's face twist up in agony, as Zero retreated to clutch his head.

With a sniff, Ambrose waved Cain onward. "Let's head back up. Zero obvously isn't feeling social today, for some reason."

"Yes, Sir." Cain murmured, half-saluting the other's command. He caught Zero's painfilled eyes through the gate, and winked at him with a smirk. Zero was still snarling out threats even when they were inside the elevator.

Ambrose was able to hold that cold composure for only a few seconds after the doors had shut, before he had bent over, clutching at his stomach as he laughed uncontrollably. Cain, feeling good about the situation, joined in with his own quiet chuckle. They almost were unable to compose themselves by the time they'd returned to the upper levels, but Ambrose eventually pinched him out of his good humor, Cain rubbing his arm where the Medic's pinch had left the skin there sore. Winking quickly, Ambrose whispered, "Now I'll show you where I work, and then we'll retreat to my suite for lunch. Though I assume that you're not hungry after single-handedly conquering my breakfast."

"Lunch sounds perfect." Cain said with a nod, letting the Medic lead him out the doors towards the new territory.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The hell which he'd been put through in his first week at the Palace began to fade in his memory, as time progressed on. Cain went unbothered by everyone else here, and even after Zero was released from the Pens, he also gave the blond a wide berth. He was able to actually enjoy himself for the most part, considering the situation. When Ambrose didn't need him for anything in the Medical Sector, Cain joined the other slaves at the many building sites around the Palace, where they were either constructing new facilities or performing maintanence on parts of the structure which needed it. Cain was able to put his focus into something that gave him a sense of accomplishment by the end of the day.

When evening came, both he and Ambrose were free from their duties, though the Medic remained always on call for emergencies. They would meet back in Ambrose's suite, which Cain had been given a key card for, to enjoy the rest of the evening between themselves. Often, after dinner was finished, they would stay up for hours playing cards, or Ambrose might read by himself while Cain dozed, and sometimes Ambrose would satisfy the blond's curiosity by explaining more about the medical field. He had books full of good information, which Cain often looked at, wanting to get more insight into what Ambrose had committed himself to.

He even went to the Medical Sector with Ambrose sometimes, just to watch the man at work. Cain would sit quietly, like an obediant servant, while Ambrose tended to those who walked into his lab, or were brought in with injuries. It was impressive to watch the Medic work. No matter how minor or severe the injuries were, Ambrose handled his patients with professional efficiency. There were many slaves from the work sites who came in, injured from an accident on the construction site. The Medic handled them with the same distant but exemplary treatment that he did the Free people who passed across his table.

Ambrose's cold demeanor would only diminish when children were brought to him. Cain would see him become more like the man of their private time, the Medic smiling and making faces at them to cheer away their tears as he administered their treatment with the utmost care. The first time Cain saw Ambrose perform a small sleight-of-hand trick that had a brightly colored candy appear in the palm of a white-gloved hand, the blond was nearly as amazed by it as the child had been. He'd not expected something like that from the Medic. It was times like these when Cain began to realize the depth to the other man, who aside from mentioning a few things about his past at the Palace here and there, spoke nothing of himself no matter how often Cain asked him.

On occasion, they would rush someone in, slave or otherwise, and it would be a major emergency. Ambrose remained unfailingly calm, despite the extent of the injury, commanding the Medics around him in a firm voice that belied the chaos around him. Sometimes, he would send Cain away when the situation became too intense, the blond having to wait outside. Usually, the technology at their fingertips would be enough to fix the situation. Cain would watch the Medics wheeling out the patient, the crisis averted, a few of them congratulating a relieved Ambrose as they left.

The technology didn't always save them. Cain saw them wheeling the covered body out of Ambrose's lab when that happened, silent from their failure. He would walk in to find the lead Medic pulling off leather gloves that were slick with blood, Ambrose staring at the empty table with miserable disbelief. They had all the power in the realm, but they still couldn't save everyone with it.

Cain would find the Medic to be completely withdrawn on the nights when that happened, even in the privacy of the suite. Ambrose refused to openly admit how much it bothered him, despite how obvious it was to the blond. So Cain would try to do what he could to comfort the Medic through some indirect means. He'd draw a warm bath for Ambrose, make sure to have just the right kinds of soaps there that he knew the man liked. Ambrose would undress in front of Cain, climb into the water, and sit like a mannequin, without much life to him. Cain normally retrieved one of Ambrose's beloved books from the other room. Ambrose enjoyed poetry the best. So the blond would read some of them to the Medic, in his own awkward fashion, stumbling over half the phrases.

Still, by the end of it, Ambrose would smile gratefully at his attempts. That made Cain feel good, knowing that he had gotten through that melancholy cloud.

There were some nights where it was Cain who needed the pampering, though he never asked for it. If the work at the site was too stressful, or if he remembered the fact that he was a slave here, or just in the event that his mood had taken a turn for the worse, Ambrose would happily return the favor. Then it would be Cain in the bath, and Ambrose's gloved hands would even go so far as to massage out the tension in the blond's shoulders, while the Medic would recite some of those poetic passages from memory. The sound of Ambrose's voice, so familiar and gentle, would be enough to relax him until he was drowsy.

That was as far as their intimacy went. They did not touch each other sexually, Ambrose maintaining a distance from Cain for most of the time. When it came time to sleep, they would share the bed, the Medic staying to his own side, body covered in his soft pajamas. He had even managed to get Cain a pair to match, which the blond was thankful for. It felt nice to be able to feel fully clothed, even if it was only for a few hours at night.

Ambrose would curl up, always the first to fall asleep. Cain would follow only when his thoughts would allow him. There were some nights where he would be about to sink into slumber, and Ambrose would shift in his sleep. The Medic's hand would reach for him, bare fingers having to touch Cain before he could settle. Cain thought it better not to mention it to Ambrose, instead enjoying the human contact when it was allowed, those fingers reminding him of a pleasure that his body was forgetting. He would fall asleep with the warm weight of Ambrose's hand on his chest.

Unconditionally Conditional - Part Two

Tue, 29 Apr 2008 06:52:02 GMT

The cell that they took him to was only slightly more accommodating than his previous holding place. This was at least double the size, with a meager offering of furniture. Cain felt better knowing that they had at least decided to upgrade his lodgings. The guards removed his shackles before shutting him in, Cain rubbing at his wrists where the metal had chafed his skin. He immediately went to the cot in his cell, yanking the blanket off in order to wrap it around him for some semblance of modesty.

He tried not to think about what had happened in the chamber. His nerves were still tingling in memory of the pleasure, though getting dragged around by Guards through the freezing cold was a definite afterglow killer. Cain clutched the blanket tightly around his shoulders, trying his best to forget the ghosted impression of where Ambrose's hands had touched him, though his memory was proving treacherously accurate at the moment.

"Wyatt Cain?" A voice whispered quietly from near the bars, Cain twisting his head to see that Ambrose was standing outside of his cell. The man still wore the white coat from earlier, though he'd removed the black gloves, bare fingers curling lightly around the metal bars as he peered in at the blond.

Cain jumped up, hurrying over to the bars, his blue eyes full of questions. "Who are you? How did you know that I was a Fighter? You recognized my tattoo. No one outside of the Resistance would understand what it was."

"I recognized it." Ambrose whispered back, pale face settled between the bars so that they could speak more privately. "I used to have one myself."

"You were--?!" Cain was hushed hurriedly by the other man, Ambrose's hands waving him quickly to silence.

"Yes. Now isn't the time for us to discuss those things, though. Zero will be arriving here shortly to begin your training."

"Why do I get the impression that I'm not going to like his methods?" Cain asked wryly, shifting the blanket around his shoulders with a sigh.

Ambrose's face softened with sympathy, eyes dropping. "I tried to get you out of it. I can't argue with the Queen. She seems to believe that you would pose some kind of danger to me as you are. It's her hope that Zero will .. take some of the fight out of you." He finished, frowning.

"I see." Cain scowled. "Any advice on how to handle Zero?"

"Just a few things." Ambrose murmured. "If you resist, he likes it. The more you fight, the rougher he gets. He's been known to beat people bloody to the brink of death. Zero is completely out of his mind, as far as sadist's go."

"What's he going to do to me?"

Ambrose sighed, shaking his head. "No one can really be sure, but I doubt that you're going to enjoy any part of it, knowing Zero. Don't fight him. It'll go easier for you that way. Zero knows how to get under people's skin in the worst kinds of ways."

The Medic yelped as a pair of bare arms slid around his waist from behind, Ambrose being hauled back from the bars. Zero smirked where he held the smaller figure draped back against his chest, drawling pleasantly. "Talking about me behind my back, Ambrose? For shame."

"Get your hands off me." Ambrose growled out in a voice that Cain definitely would not have wanted to argue with.

Zero, however, seemed unaffected by the threat, as he pressed a firm kiss against Ambrose's cheek, ignoring the Medic's attempts to squirm free. "Aw. Now is that any way to treat the man who's going to get your pet housebroken?"

Cain tolerated Zero's continued treatment of Ambrose for five more seconds, before he snapped out flatly, "Why don't you leave him alone? He obviously doesn't like you tou--"

The blond jerked back away from the bars as one of Zero's hands slammed out, hitting with vicious force right where his face had been. Cain found himself being targeted by a burning glare from the man, as Zero said coldly, "Don't speak unless spoken to, slave."

Ambrose had freed himself when Zero's ire turned to Cain, smoothing his jacket back into place as he gave the blond a pleading look. "It's fine, Cain. Zero's just like that." His eyes were begging Cain not to get the Trainer anymore riled up than he already was.

Zero took his eyes off Cain in order to smirk towards Ambrose. "So, are you going to stay and watch the show?" He laced his fingers together, cracking his knuckles. "I'll try to keep him intact, so long as he doesn't talk back like that anymore."

Cain saw Ambrose turn whiter than his coat, the Medic shaking his head. "N-no. I don't want to watch. You had better not hurt him, Zero. He's mine, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah." Zero sighed, waving a hand dismissively. "I got it. Now go run along and get back to playing doctor. This is my specialty, Doc."

Ambrose looked torn, eyes shifting between Cain and Zero. His eyes gave Cain one last warning to behave himself, for his own sake, before the Medic walked quietly away.

Zero's head had turned, watching the Medic go, before it swung back to look in at Cain. The blond was clutching at his blanket so hard that his knuckles had gone white. Mildly, Cain murmured, "I suppose that beating me too much is out of the question, if he wants you to keep me intact."

"True.." Zero nodded, before grinning. "But I have plenty of other means to break you. And I'll have plenty of time to use them before anyone else comes back to check up on us." He reached down to the front of his pants, adjusting them deliberately to add hint to his implications. "Hope you aren't a screamer, blondie..."

~~~~~~~~~~

It took some time for Cain to regain consciousness from where Zero had knocked him out of awareness with some precise blows to his head. His head was in agony, having trouble getting his eyes to open at his command.

Then he became aware of the fact that his hands were bound behind his back.

Then he became aware that he was on the floor of his cell.

Then he became aware that he was choking on something in his throat. His brain dimly informed him that it was only Zero, and that he'd probably finish soon.

When Cain drifted back into awareness again, Zero was dressed as if it had never happened, addressing him coldly. "If you tell anyone, even your 'master', about what took place in here today, I will come back to this cell and gut you, Queen or no."

~~~~~~~~~~

He woke again to a pleasant tingling all over his face and head, as something cold brushed carefully over the places that Zero's violence had damaged. Cain managed to slit one eye open to determine who was tending to him.

Ambrose's delicate face was a portrait of melancholy as he continued to spread some kind of ointment onto Cain's skin. He was wearing a black Medic's uniform now, and the white leather gloves were stained red from what Cain surmised was his blood. The man was seated on the edge of the cot where Cain lay, bending over him as he administered the treatment. Once Ambrose noticed that the blond's eye was open, he focused on it with a sigh. "I'm sorry. This ointment is a balm called 'Hurtloam'. It should numb the pain and have that all healed up by the end of tonight. I warn you, though..." He tried for humor, but failed, "it will itch terribly. Don't scratch at it."

Cain nodded silently, though the action sliced pain through his head and neck. Zero must have done quite a number on him. His jaw hurt the worst. Cain couldn't figure out if it was from the beatings or from ... the other stuff. He didn't want to dwell on that long enough to diagnose the cause.

Ambrose finished applying the ointment, before rubbing his gloved fingers against a towel nearby. Cain saw that it was also stained red in several places. The Medic stood slowly, trying not to jostle the man on the cot. "I gave you a slight sedative. The hurtloam will handle the pain for the most part, but sleep will heal the rest." He placed his hand down briefly on Cain's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "I'll check in on you tomorrow."

Part of Cain wanted to ask the man not to leave. He did not want to fall into sleep, unable to control what happened to him while he slept. Afraid that Zero might get a whim to pay him another visit. But it felt like it would hurt too much to talk, and Cain's pride would not allow him to admit his fears. Instead, as Ambrose quietly left the cell, the blond shut his eyes and let the drugs in his system lull him to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

Zero visited him on a daily basis. Usually whenever Ambrose was busy with his tasks. The Trainer mentioned to Cain that he'd taken a liking to the blond, which was why he was so determined to see that Cain's training was thorough. Cain was defiant every time, just to get some ire out of the man. Anything to avoid seeing that look of triumph on Zero's face when he thought that he was getting through.

Cain was able to tell when Zero was having a bad day, depending on how severe a beating he got out of the Trainer. Ambrose would yell at the man when he came back from the laboratories, livid with anger at the state Cain was left in. Zero would laugh, or shrug it off, and justify his actions by implying that the blond was still being too feisty for his liking. Cain had not told Ambrose about the other things which Zero had decided to do with him. The Medic looked so anguished whenever he tended to Cain's wounds that the blond did not want him knowing that there was more than just beatings taking place. He wanted to let Ambrose believe that.

He hated Zero, and Zero knew it. So Zero delighted even further in abusing the blond. He would stuff Cain's blanket into his mouth to muffle the sounds the blond would make when Zero would fuck him on the floor, or on the cot. The beatings he proudly let the world hear; the fucking was swift, silent and cruel, a private enjoyment purely for Zero's own entertainment.

Cain decided that this was hell. He had died in the attack on the Palace, and now was being punished for some unfathomable sin, to have to suffer through this endless pattern of humiliation, pain and helplessness.

Today, Zero had him up against the wall, the bonds holding his wrist together looped around a pipe to keep Cain from turning around. It was a little more vicious than usual. Zero had been in a bad mood the minute he'd stepped foot inside the cell. He was taking Cain roughly, his thrusts clumsily quick, greedily searching for his own satisfaction to take the ebb of his anger.

Then Cain heard Zero grunt, but it was different from usual. It wasn't out of pleasure. In fact, it sounded pretty painful. Zero was stopping in his motions, becoming a heavy weight on Cain's back, before Cain felt him slipping out and falling onto the floor at the blond's feet. He strained around to look over his shoulder, trying to figure out what little miracle had just occurred here. Had Zero had a heart attack?

Ambrose was standing in the cell, a beatstick from one of the Guards held in both of his gloved hands. His eyes were locked on Zero, face livid. As Cain watched, the Medic lifted the beatstick again over his head, before slamming it down on Zero's cranium with a rather sick sort of sound. Ambrose looked capable of murder in that moment. Cain whispered, shakily, "Ambrose, stop. Stop!"

The Medic did not seem to hear him at first, raising that beatstick again. Cain cleared his throat and spoke a second time, louder now. "Ambrose! You can't kill him."

Brown eyes fluttered, before Ambrose looked over at Cain. "Wyatt?"

He dropped the beatstick to the floor as if it were on fire, looking down at where Zero lay on the floor in astonishment. Then the Medic was hurrying over, gloved hands shaking badly as he undid the bonds holding Cain tied to the pipe. Cain slumped once freed, but the Medic was ready to steady him, an arm around the blond's back to keep him from falling. Ambrose snatched up the blanket from the cot, throwing it over Cain's body to offer him some covering.

"You're coming out of here with me. I'll deal with the Queen. Zero will be punished for this, I promise." The Medic murmured swiftly, breathless as he guided Cain along out of the cell.

"Is he dead?" Cain asked dully.

"No. He'll survive, unfortunately." Ambrose answered, not bothering to hide his regret at the news.

"Where are you taking me?"

"To my personal suite. I'll tend to you there, before speaking with the Queen. I am not leaving you alone with anyone else."

"Good." Cain said, and he meant it with every part of him.

~~~~~~~~

Ambrose's suite was actually larger than Cain's old home had been. The rooms were all open to each other, a tidy space that suited the Medic with its spartan decorum and simple furnishings. Cain could not find enough focus to drink in many details about the place, only thankful when he heard the sound of Ambrose locking the door behind them.

The Medic was pulling him forward, looking at him with concern, as he led Cain into a spacious bathroom. He eased the blond down to sit on the floor, not trusting him to manage sitting on anything higher in his current condition. Ambrose turned away from Cain in order to get water running into the bath, gloves squeaking around the metal. Cain, not entirely lucid, decided that it was the perfect time to ask, "What's with the gloves? You don't want to touch me without them?"

"It isn't that." Ambrose said distractedly, his attention mainly on the filling bath tub. "I don't touch anyone without them. It's ... a quirk, I guess." He explained.

Cain let the matter go for now. It was hard to focus on anything with that much pain in his body. He nearly blacked out from it, but Ambrose was shaking him back to awareness, the Medic taking hold of his upper arms. "Come on. Into the bath. You're too big for me to manage on my own."

With the Medic's assistance, Cain stepped into the tub. The water was hot, nearly uncomfortable. It initially made his pain worse, yet Ambrose assured him that it would help. Cain stuck it out until he found out that the Medic was right. The heat was working wonders for his sore muscles. He sank down into the cradle of the tub, head resting back against the lip of it as Cain tried to relax.

He blinked up as Ambrose began to lather up a cloth with soap, the Medic seating himself on the edge of the tub. Leaning over, the man began to slide the cloth cautiously over Cain's skin, as if the man were made of glass and not tougher materials. "How long has Zero been doing that to you?"

"Since the first day." Cain answered, figuring that since the air was clear, he was free to talk about the subject. "Told me he'd kill me if I said anything. I believed that he'd do it, too."

Ambrose nodded as he slid the cloth across Cain's shoulders. "He would. I have no doubt about that."

"Aren't you going to alert someone? He's bleeding all over the place in that cell." Cain pointed out, without enthusiasm.

"Let him bleed awhile. He'll come around eventually." A snort came out of the Medic, as he continued with his careful handling of the blond. Ambrose hesitated when the cloth reached the level of the water, murmuring, "Do you think that you can handle washing yourself? I should go see the Queen before Zero wakes up."

"I can manage. Go see her."

Ambrose nodded, standing. He gave Cain a stern look. "No falling asleep in the water. I will be back as soon as I can." Then the Medic was hurrying out of the bathroom, out of sight. Cain did hear the distant sound of Ambrose locking the door behind him when he left, which helped to put him at ease. It was awkward, but he managed to get himself settled into washing without too much difficulty.

Unconditionally Conditional - Part One

Tue, 29 Apr 2008 03:50:24 GMT

Wyatt Cain knew as soon as he woke up in his holding cell that he was in deep trouble. He tested the red lines at the mouth of it by throwing a pebble at them, only to watch it melt instantly upon connecting with that web of energy. This was no ordinary prison. Considering that piece of technology alone, he knew that he had to be in the Palace. Cain climbed to his feet, approaching as close as he dared to those beams in order to look out and try to judge more of his surroundings.

His suspicions were quickly confirmed. He was indeed in the bowels of the Palace. There were Palace Guards all over the place, patrolling along the cells on the levels above and below his own, unmistakeable in their black leather garments. Cain could not see into any of the other cells in order to check if any of his comrades were here. He could only hope that more people than just himself had survived the botched attack from the previous night.

Cain was part of the Resistance, a group of underground fighters who had been trying to overthrow the corrupt government of the Monarchy. That leading body was a dictatorship, as famous for its cruelty as it was for its debauchery. The Queen ruled the land with an iron fist, leaving people to scatter into hiding or face becoming enslaved like those in the Palace. Cain had heard tales, mostly horror stories, about what happened to those who became slaves to the Monarchy. Very few people managed to escape. Those who did came back to their homes forever changed.

The Monarchy had the upperhand against the Resistance, for the simple fact that all of the technology in the realm was constricted to the Palace. Technology meant for every purpose from luxury to weaponry. Against the military force of the Guards, a handful of farmers and hunters had little hope for victory. Cain had known this when he joined, but felt in his heart that it was the right thing to do, to try for a better future. So he had gone along with them for an attack, but they had been greatly outnumbered, and Cain remembered one of the Guards bringing a beatstick down over his head before he'd blacked out.

Returning to his cot, he sat down heavily on it, dropping into a slouch as he thought further upon his situation. He was in the Palace. He was a prisoner. Either they were going to kill him, or else he was going to end up being put into the Monarchy's Slave Program. Cain was hoping for a quick death. If the stories that he had heard were any indication of what he had to look forward to in slavery, he definitely would have preferred choosing his demise.

Cain was left alone to dwell on those thoughts for over two hours before finally being visited in his cell.

A group of men came to a stop on the outside of the red beams, all dressed in white leather coats. Cain knew from the Resistance reports that these were Medics. They were responsible for the physical care of those inside the Palace, having the best technology at their fingertips. No one who lived in the Palace was ever sick. It was a paradise of good health. However, Cain had also heard about the other things that Medics did. Experiments, usually involving the slaves who were at the Palace, or prisoners like himself.

He stood up as one of the men reached to the wall beside his cell, punching in a code. The red beams dissolved with a soft thrum of energy, Cain looking warily at the cluster of Medics. Then one of them strode forward, and by his very manner, Cain knew that this one was in charge. His attire was even slightly different, the white coat interwoven with hints of black along the seams. The man was dark-haired and pale, his brown eyes studying Cain impassionately as he entered the cell. He gestured the other men forward, nodding towards the blond. "Strip him. Begin the medical examination. He seems to be in good health, but I want a full analysis."

Cain found himself being swarmed by the Medics, who began to pull at his clothes. He was immediately angered by their treatment of him, resisting them by starting to fight. However, they were many, and he was one. Cain grunted in pain as he found himself forced down on his knees. His blue eyes glared up at the leader of the Medics as the man approached him, smiling faintly. "A fighter, I see. That kind of energy should be useful to you in the future, if you learn to invest it towards the right things."

He ignored Cain's continued glare, the blond jerking in the hold of the Medics as the man reached a black gloved hand down to his shirt. Cain felt him ripping the fabric, exposing his chest. The leather encasing those fingers was cool as it skimmed across his skin, until they poised over the tattoo of a Resistance Fighter which had been etched into the flesh of his left shoulderblade. That made the man's smile vanish.

Those brown eyes flickered sharply to meet Cain's, something passing over the man's face. Recognition? Cain's anger was clouded by confusion as he tried to figure out what that expression meant. Then the man's hand quickly withdrew, eyes spilling back into that detached sheen as he straightened away from Cain. "I want him delivered to the Chamber in an hour. If you need to recruit a few Guards to get him to carry through the rest of the exam, then so be it. Instruct them not to bruise him too much -- we need him to look impressive for the Court."

Cain watched him walking away, speaking to the Medics without another glance in his direction. "I will leave him to you gentlemen. Report to me as soon as the examination is completed." Then the man left him at the hands of the Medics, as Cain was given no other choice but to submit to their actions.

~~~~~~~~~

Once the Medics were finished with him, Cain found himself being locked into metal shackles around his wrists and ankles, a chain loosely linking the two sets together. That was all that they allowed him to wear. He found himself being dragged down a long dark corridor, unable to see anything inside the blackness. The Guards who were escorting him stopped him at one point, Cain feeling them depart but unable to determine which direction they had left to. He twisted back and forth, surrounded by silent darkness, with only the sound of his own breath and the clink of the shackles for company.

Then, abruptly, spotlights turned on high overhead, blinding him. Cain lifted his shackled hands up to cover his eyes, wincing away from it. The silence gave way to a few low laughs, and an exchange of whispers from above him. Cain's arms slowly lowered, the man looking up in the direction of those sounds.

He found himself standing at the bottom of a large circular chamber. There were balconies which jutted out several feet over his head, constructed out of marble. They looked like ones he had seen in a theater once. Each one of them was occupied with one or two people, seated in their chairs as if they were watching a performance. Cain let his eyes study each balcony one at a time, taking measure of those who sat there.

The central balcony, wider than the others, was where the Queen sat. Her lavender eyes were studying Cain with amusement, lips twisted in half a smile as she considered him. She was said to be one of the most beautiful women in the realm, which Cain could surely believe by looking at her. There was very little paints needed to highlight her beauty, and the tight fit of her black corset indicated that the ample flesh there would tempt any man. But this woman was also evil. Cain could not work up any spark of desire for her, beauty or not.

Beside her was her consort, handsome enough by the standards of the realm. Cain knew that this man often went outside of the Palace on the Royal Hunts, where the Court would make a game out of hunting down people to capture for their whims. He leaned casually against the Queen's side, whispering something into her which made the woman laugh softly and nod in agreement.

Cain was distracted from the other balconies when the Queen made a languid gesture, her voice ringing out through the chamber. "Report."

Someone stood up from a chair in the balcony. Cain was surprised to see that it was the lead Medic from earlier in his cell. The man bowed to the Queen, before speaking. "Wyatt Cain, Highness. Aside from lacerations from a blow to the head, he is in perfect health. My Medics tell me that he is quite.. spirited, judging by how he handled their attempts to examine him. He has no diseases -- completely clean."

"Then we should decide what to do with him." The Queen purred, smirking. "He has a good build. It would be suited to hard labor. While he strikes me as clearly virile, his looks are not quite suited to my tastes. Suggestions?"

"I could take him." From one of the other balconies, a man spoke up. Cain looked in that direction with a scowl. The man was lounging in his chair, one leg draped over the arm of his chair. His clothes were black leather, similar to those of the Palace Guards, but far more revealing, considering that his top was only constructed out of straps. He was smirking darkly down at Cain in a way that the blond didn't like. "I don't think he'd be that hard to break, in my possession."

"No one remains unbroken in your possession." The Queen teased, before pouting. "We have so much trouble keeping toys for you, since you tend to ruin them so quickly. All right, Zero, then--"

"Majesty."

The Queen's head turned at the interruption, Zero looking across the way to where the lead Medic remained standing in his own balcony. She smiled, almost tenderly. "Yes, my dear Ambrose?"

His dark eyes dropped from looking at her, fixing down on Cain. The blond locked onto that gaze, curious, as the man named Ambrose said quietly, "I would like to have him. Please."

"You, Ambrose?" Several of the others were looking towards the Medic in open astonishment, the Queen included. "But you have never selected a pet for yourself before. Does this man strike your fancy so much, darling?"

"Yes." Ambrose licked his lips quickly, face flushing as he looked back to the Queen. "I find him very attractive. There is something about him that appeals to me. I would like to have him, if you would grant him to me."

The Queen settled back to studying Cain, appraising him thoughtfully. Zero was glowering in Ambrose's direction, which the Medic ignored. Finally, the Queen nodded. "I will grant him to you under one condition, Ambrose."

"Anything, Highness." Ambrose breathed out. The way he sounded, Cain figured he probably would have thrown himself off the balcony if she asked it of him.

"You must give us a performance with your new pet. I am interested to see how you intend to handle him." She gestured towards Cain, before curling her hand over the arm of her chair.

Ambrose hesitated, before bowing swiftly. Cain saw him step towards the back of the balcony, not sure where the man had disappeared to. A few of the women had begun to giggle, the air becoming thick with something like anticipation. Cain wondered what they were getting so excited about. Then he looked down as he saw Ambrose walking into the ring of light where he was standing.

The man's hands reached for him, Cain taking a step back instinctively. But Ambrose merely stepped closer and put both hands at either side of Cain's head. Those dark eyes were intent on studying his face, Ambrose using that hold to draw the blond towards him. He stretched up, face coming within inches of Cain's, as he whispered faintly, "If you resist, she'll give you to Zero. I am your only ally here."

Then his mouth was upon the blond's, Cain founding himself being kissed by another man for the first time in his life. His mind was still processing Ambrose's words, while the Medic's warm lips moved against Cain's. He felt the man's fingertips curl in against his skull, Cain pulling back from the kiss long enough to whisper back, "What are you doing?"

"I'm expected to fuck you here in front of the others." Ambrose said quickly, then had to tighten his hold on Cain when that immediately made the man start to struggle again, Ambrose's face tense.

Zero spoke from above them, addressing the Queen. "Your Highness, I don't know that your Ambrose will be capable of handling a slave this willful."

Ambrose's eyes burned with anger at those words, though he did not turn his face away from Cain's. He hissed softly, "Either go along with it willingly or get it by force from Zero. Your choice, soldier."

Cain ceased his struggles at Ambrose's title for him, peering at the other man. Ambrose recognized that he was a Fighter? If Ambrose knew, then perhaps the Medic had been truthful in saying that he was Cain's only ally. He swallowed thickly, hating the situation, hating the humiliation that he was going to have to endure for these sadists. Cain tried to sound brave as he whispered. "What do I need to do?"

"Nothing." Ambrose's smile was melancholy. "Just try to relax. I will try to make it feel good. Let me do all the work."

Cain nodded. Ambrose then pressed another kiss to his mouth, this time allowing his hands to slide around to the back of Cain's neck, caressing the short blond hairs there. For his part, Cain tried not to freak out about what was happening to him. While he had heard rumors that some in the Palace held these kinds of tastes, it had seemed unreal to him that men would choose to couple with other men. Now he was expected to do just that sort of thing to satisfy the whims of a sadistic woman.

Ambrose's caresses spread across the planes of his shoulders, gloved fingers tracing lightly over the bones and muscles beneath that tan flesh. His lips forced Cain's apart, so that his tongue could invade the blond's mouth. Cain felt it exploring inside, hot and wet. As Ambrose's fingers danced down over the expanse of his chest, the blond was mortified to find himself responding to the ministrations.

The leather was slightly rough where it scraped over his nipples, Ambrose's thumbs rolling over the flesh, teasing it until it was hard, sending shivers down Cain's spine. Ambrose withdrew from the kiss in order to press his mouth to the hollow of Cain's throat, the blond shutting his eyes. Cain licked his lips, whispering unsteadily. "Take off the gloves."

"No.." Ambrose answered against his neck, before he straightened away from Cain's neck. His face angled down, eyes watching the passage of his hands as they slid down from Cain's chest, tracing his ribs. Cain's own eyes opened back up to slits and he was compelled to look down as well, to see the Medic caressing him.

When Ambrose wrapped a set of fingers around him, he was not quite hard yet. The Medic seemed to know a remedy for that, as he began to stroke over Cain's length between them. Cain gasped softly, chin falling forward against his chest. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been touched like this. He certainly didn't think it had felt this good. The leather caused a pleasurable friction against his sensitive flesh, adding to the sensations. Cain moaned softly.

"We can't see the show very well, Ambrose. Shift, if you would." The Queen's voice jarred Cain, making him nearly lose that erection.

Ambrose, however, did not let it falter. He stepped around to stand behind Cain, the warmth of his body pressed intimately to the blond's back. His hand resumed its grip from this new angle, stroking the man's length from behind him, working Cain's excitement back up. It was numbing his mind, making Cain not even care where they were, or who this was. He was forgetting that there was even an audience in the room, since his body's sole focus had become fixated on that hand and its skillful efforts.

Cain let his head fall back against the support of Ambrose's shoulder, the man's lips brushing underneath his chin as that hand grew more deliberate with its strokes, working him faster than before, as if reading the signs from Cain's body that indicated that the blond was close to release. Cain's weight was heavy where it sagged against the Medic, but the man did not let him fall. His other arm locked around the blond's waist to keep him upright as he worked.

Then Cain was crying out hoarsely, mouth open, as his release thundered through his body. He jerked against Ambrose, into the man's hand, until he was thoroughly spent. Ambrose kept the tremors going through his body, working him slower and slower, until Cain was limp. Only then did the man release his length, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck as he whispered to the blond, "Good boy. That should have satisfied her."

Ambrose's arm uncurled from around Cain's waist, letting the blond sink down to unsteady knees. He turned to look up to the Queen's balcony, an eyebrow lifting expectantly.

The Queen was nodding, her smile pleased. "Well done, Ambrose. Consider him yours to use as you please."

"Thank you, Highness." Ambrose bowed to her.

As an afterthought, the monarch added, "Though I feel that your pet needs some time in training with Zero first."

Ambrose tried to protest, yet she cut him off with a sweeping gesture of her hand. "No, no. I've decided it. This pet is still willful, and you are inexperienced in how to properly train him. It would distress me greatly if this pet were to rise against you and harm you in some fashion. He needs to be taught better manners first, so that I know my precious Ambrose will be safe."

She glanced sidelong in the direction of Zero's balcony. "Do you agree to help train Ambrose's pet for him, Zero?"

"Of course, Majesty." The man in question nodded, bowing towards her while still in his chair. "I would be more than delighted to train Ambrose's little ... pet." He smirked down at Ambrose, who Cain saw was glaring up at the man with open hostility.

The Queen nodded. "Very well. The Guards may escort Cain to the training pens. You may find him at your leisure, Zero. Now.. Bring in the next prisoner!"

A pair of Guards materialized out of the shadows, taking hold of Cain by either arm. The blond looked wildly towards Ambrose, who had clutched his hands close against his thin chest. He gave a subtle shake of his head to Cain, before murmuring, "I will come and visit you soon. Try to behave yourself until then."

Cain kept his eyes fixed on that remote figure, straining to keep sight of Ambrose over his shoulder, but the guards had him moving too quickly to clutch hold of that image for very long.

Madness in Wonderland or W!O - Part One

Sun, 27 Apr 2008 21:54:04 GMT

He couldn't be sure how long he'd been in the Maze of Mirrors. The stupid pocketwatch that he'd been given had its numbers randomly positioned, so there could be no accurate method to tell time by the face. It seemed to be broken anyway. The crooked hands at not moved at all since the last time he'd checked it.

Then again, losing all concept of time wasn't all that bad, considering that the mirrors sometimes made him forget which way was up and which way was down. It had been worse when he had been running around through the maze, seeing his reflection amplified back to him by the hundreds. Even walking around had made it disorienting. Finally, when he couldn't work up the strength to walk anymore, he simply sat in the spot where he'd been standing, determined not to rise.

His clothes were uncomfortable to him, despite their soft texture. Too many layers which left him hot from the running, unable to cool off. He examined them in one of the mirrors nearby. The white shirt was trimmed with lace -- lace! -- at the cuffs, his dark blue coat finally tailored out of velvet. When he gave the silver buttons a closer examination, he discovered that they were actually very tiny skulls. Something about them disturbed him greatly, so he tried not to study them too thoroughly after that initial find. Then there was the hat.

The ridiculous top hat, too tall for his head and black as ink. It felt heavy, beginning to cause his head to ache. But he knew what would happen if he took it off. Knew what would happen if he even considered disturbing a piece of his attire. The creature who held him captive here would swoop down out of nowhere, masking the mirrors in a flurry of black. Then there would be pain, as he was hit until he thought his skull was going to break. His captor's voice would be a hissed purr in his ear. "Leave it on. Hatters are nothing without their hats."

Then he would be left alone with only his sore head and wild thoughts. He wanted to argue. He was not a 'hatter', he was a 'tin man'! It should not have been possible for him to end up in this situation. Trying to keep himself grounded to something real, he would clench his hands into fists, digging his fingernails into the palms hard enough to draw blood. Then he'd find a few minutes of clarity, and remember how it was he had come to be here.

He'd been a tin man. His last case had involved him raiding a bar in the Old District of Central City to try and uncover a drug ring rumored to be stationed there. The details of the night were foggy. He knew that he had gone to the bar as intended. He knew that he'd busted in and sent the cartel members scrambling. He remembered dark eyes, a sensuous smile, and his own alarmed reaction before.. Before... what? That was where it became too clouded for him to recall.

"You can keep fighting all you want." The beast would mock him, pacing back and forth on a metal platform high overhead. It moved with sinuous grace, a predator unable to keep still for very long. His black pants were leather, as was the long coat that fell to his ankles. He slid a hip onto the railing, pale hands clasping together on his thigh as he peered down with that wicked grin. "I kind of like it better when they struggle. It helps add depth to their character. But they do all give in, eventually, and so too will you, handsome one."

"I have a family. A wife and son. You can't keep me here!" He shouted up, angry. He had a family? Really? He tried to picture their faces. Nothing. It was being devoured from his memory the longer he stayed in this place.

"Yes, you do. Or did." With that smirk sliding crooked, the monster waved his lost wallet into the air, unfurling the rows of pictures stored in plastic. He studied them, before laughing. "They'll have to learn to get along without you. You belong to me now." Those pictures were dangled down just above his reach, and the blond lurched to try to snatch them, yet his captor yanked them up just in time, stuffing them and the wallet back into a pocket in his coat. "I wish I had more time to play, but alas.. I have other guests that need their training tended to."

He couldn't understand what the beast meant by those words. But he could guess. Sometimes, in the chaos of those mirrors, he would hear someone screaming in the distance. Some were female, others male. Their cries were enraged, or despairing; prisoners like himself at the mercy of this madman. They never screamed too long. He was thankful for that. Once, he had thought that he'd seen a woman wandering through the maze, on the other side of the glass. He'd pounded at it with his fists to try and get her attention, but she was too far lost in the illusion to notice. She had simply walked past, fingers tracing the smooth surface of the glass, eyes wide and unseeing.

His mind was breaking. He knew it. The idea filled him with despair, anger, sadness. Finally, there was nothing else for him to do but lay there on the reflective floor, resting his face down against the cold glass, slumping in defeat.

"Poor dear, poor dear." The man in black would come to him then, helping him to sit up, a hand brushing him off with tender care. These visits would be much more enjoyable. He would cover his face in kisses, and even his mouth. The beast's hands would wander over the velvet of his jacket, clutch him through his trousers when the kisses coaxed him to respond. He would feel shame in those moments as he felt himself straining towards that affection with his hips, moaning helplessly. But the creature would stop just short of granting him the release he hungered for, that grin in place, as he purred softly, "The longer you wait, the hungrier you will be when you're finally ready. Maybe next time."

Then he would be abandoned, so hard that it hurt, and he'd have to finish it with his own awkward hand, rather than the sensual pressure of that creature who seemed to know precisely how to touch him. Once he had spent himself, he would clean up with the handkerchief that his captor always refreshed for him, then roll over to the side and fall into slumber.

Finally, he woke up one day and the images in the mirrors no longer bothered him. In fact, they made him laugh heartily, and they laughed with him. He slid the gold pocketwatch out of his black waistcoat, balancing it in his palm as he checked the time. A full quarter past eleven! It was well past time to get up.

He laughed again, though that went quiet as he saw another image in the mirror. Another person, standing somewhere behind him -- or was it in front? A bizarre sort of man. Why, he was completely white! His clothes were white, perfectly fit to his thin body, gloves coating the hands that were clasped in front of him where he stood patiently nearby. He had no hair on his head, for it looked as if someone had shaved it all off. The only bit of color on him were his eyes, which were very big for his face.

"Who are you?" He asked the strange man.

"Your escort. The Master has invited you to join him in the parlor for tea." The man bowed stiffly, before turning to go. As he climbed up to his feet to follow, he saw that there was a door between the mirrors which had escaped his notice before. They were walking through it. He straightened out his jacket, reaching up to tip his hat so that it balanced better on top of his head, wanting to look presentable for tea.

They came out into the parlor, which was quite red. Billowing curtains of red fabric were draped on the walls, trimmed with gold. Everything was red and gold -- even the large table in the room was gold! And the chairs! All but the tea set that was spread out on the tabletop. And the man in black who already sat at the head of the table, sipping from one of the delicate china cups. He smiled as he saw his guest arrive, nodding to the man in white. "Ah, good, you brought him. Please, have a seat. Would you like some tea?"

The man in white moved to pour him a cup, while the beast looked on with that mild smile in place. "I see that you met my assistant. You can address him by 'White Rabbit' -- or just 'Rabbit', as it pleases you."

"That would explain the attire." The blond remarked conversationally, as he began to place lumps of sugar into his cup. "So what does that make me, and what does that make you?"

"You're the Hatter, of course. My handsome Mad Hatter. And I?" He flashed a feral grin, a predator under the guise of a man. "I am the Jabberwock, my son."

~~~~~~~~~~

It became their ritual, with each day, to meet for tea in the Red Room. He looked forward to it immensely. Otherwise, he was kept to his room, which was quite a lovely thing.

The room had been furnished with elegant furniture which matched the swanky atmosphere of the other parts of the place which he had been allowed to glimpse. His bed was so nice that he was half-afraid to touch it, let alone sleep on it. The soft blankets felt silky underneath his fingers as he tested the material. Looking up, his eyes passed over the canopy on top, blue curtains falling from either side. Everything so very blue, like his jacket -- or, he guessed, like his eyes.

He did not want to disturb anything in here. It was like standing in the bedroom of a king. Despite the fact that he could remember nothing much before waking up in the Maze, he knew that he had never had anything so expensive as these things. He stood awkwardly beside the bed, the edge of the mattress brushing against his knees. That hand remained poised over the bedspread as his host entered the room.

"What so you think of the place? Is it to your liking?"

"This is all a little much, don't you think?"

The man -- Jabberwock, he reminded himself -- grinned indulgently. "I like to fill my home with pretty things. They please me."

Something about the way he spoke made his face grow hot, looking swiftly back to the bed. "Then I suppose I will have to get used to it."

He felt the other drift up soundlessly to his side, a deceptively thin arm lacing itself around his waist, pulling him up against that leather-encased body. Uncertain what to do, the blond stared warily at the other.

His host purred pleasantly. "I could help you get adjusted to it quickly. Help to break in the place, so to speak. Why don't we start with the bed?"

"What? I.." He began to protest, trying to push himself away from that body for a little breathing space. The creature, though, proved difficult to budge. With a laugh, the blond found himself being forced around to face the bed, slim hips pressing against him from behind. As his hands reached back to resist, those pale hands snatched hold of his wrists and yanked them forward across the soft material, bending him until his cheek was nestled there upon the blankets.

"Still so feisty." He heard the other whisper, able to hear the satisfied grin in those words. "You just need some more thorough training, is all. We need to finish what we started with you back in the Maze. You liked my little.. rewards, didn't you?" To indicate what he meant, he took both of the blond's wrists captive in one long-fingered hand, one reaching down beneath his waist to cup the resisting blond's crotch. He squeezed it gently, though the blond knew that it could get much rougher than that if the creature so chose.

He felt those fingers working at the front of his trousers, moaning into the bedspread as he felt that hand snaking inside. The first caress against his hardening flesh made him jerk, not having expected to find himself so sensitive this immediately. A kiss was pressed against his ear from above, the Jabberwock's lips pressing a grin directly against the shell as those fingers locked around his length, beginning to stroke him with effortless skill.

This was exactly what he had been hungering for since the first time he'd been touched by this creature. It was better than he'd imagined in his desperate moments of searching for release. He turned his face into the bed, muffling a moan, as the Jabberwock's thumb teased the tip of his length. He'd forgotten about putting up a fight already, arms stretched limp across the bed, fingers digging in to clench at the fabric. He felt the Jabberwock's hand sliding away from his wrists, inching down the loose trousers that had pooled around his hips, guiding them down to drop around his knees.

"Mm.. so hot. You feel very good right now, don't you, my little Hatter?" The Jabberwock whispered, his own voice laced with a moan as he felt the increased trembling of the blond beneath him. He bit at that ear, hard enough to make the blond wince, before murmuring breathlessly, "I think that I am going to fuck you now. I had wanted to wait, but you are too delicious. My hunger won't wait for you one night longer."

In his position, he was able to feel the Jabberwock working his own pants open, the leather creaking faintly. A hardness nudged him from behind, making him momentarily squirm in one last ditch effort of resistance, but he knew there was no escape. His efforts merely earned a silky laugh out of the other. The Jabberwock's hand released him, so that both could take a firm hold on his hips. That hardness probed more directly, and he bit down into the fabric of the bedspread to keep from crying out.

The thrust was rough, and without anything to ease the invasion, it probably hurt more than it normally might have. But the blond had already figured out that the Jabberwock was something of a sadist. He clenched his eyes shut as the pain blossomed through him, feeling his captor already beginning to work deeper in with quick little thrusts of his hips. Opening him up by force when needed. He thought that the agony might never end, that surely this was going to be the death of him.

"Unnn.." The Jabberwock's fingers tightened on his hips, nails digging in, as his hips went still once he was completely sheathed inside the blond. He lingered there, pleasure twisting his face, as he relished the tightness of his newly acquired lover. His words were subtle hisses. "Yesss.. So good. I knew you'd .. feel just like this."

The blond thought that he might pass out. While the pain had ebbed a bit, there was still intense discomfort blazing through him. That agony came and went as the Jabberwock began to move inside his body. There was no tenderness to it -- he was being possessed by this creature, marked in the most intimate way possible. Each time the Jabberwock thrust back into him, the word went unsaid in the air between them.

Mine. Mine.

Soon, the pain began to fade, and he felt it becoming something strangely pleasant. The Jabberwock was moving his hips, guiding him to the angle of his choosing. Finally, the blond felt that invading length hitting up against a spot inside he had not known existed. Mercilessly, the Jabberwock bucked at it, making him jerk with the sensation, moans of pain becoming moans of delight. He thought that he could probably die of this, too.

Then the Jabberwock's right hand left his hip, reaching down to take hold of him once again where he hung, hard and swollen and aching. Those fingers gripped him as roughly as that length was taking him, stroking around his hardness with deliberate intent.

"Break for me." The Jabberwock whispered, voice shaky. "I want to feel you shatter."

It was impossible not to obey the demand, since the other was working him so skillfully. He found himself actually enjoying the roughness of it, able to abandon himself completely, moaning out desperately, "Yes, yes, yes--uhh!"

There was an explosion from deep inside that blinded him, as he felt himself releasing hard inside the vice of the Jabberwock's hand. He heard the creature laughing above him, but that mirth did not matter to him, as he rode through the waves of release.

That seemed to be the signal for the Jabberwock to cut loose on his own sense of control. He began to thrust more rapidly, abandoning the steady rhythm which he had built up in search of his own climax. That slim frame rocked the blond forward with surprising force, the Jabberwock's head dropping backwards as his mouth fell open with delight. His fingers clenched on the blond's hips hard enough to bruise, holding himself tight against the blond's body as he released into the other, sounding his moan into the ear of his lover.

When it was finished, they slumped together in that position, the bed the only thing supporting them. The blond was able to feel the racing pulse of the Jabberwock deep inside, mingling with his own. Then the Jabberwock was withdrawing from him with a pleased sigh. "That was delicious, pet. Take some time to get yourself straightened out, then come join me for tea. We'll be entertaining guests tonight."

The blond made no effort to get up just yet, feeling the Jabberwock place an appreciative pat on his upraised backside. Only when the door shut, proving that the creature had left the room, did he finally sink down to his knees next to the bed, tangled in his trousers. He let out a long, slow breath, able to manage only one thing in regards to the situation. "Wow.."