2012-10-10: Torn Apart


Connor_icon.jpg Nicholas_icon.jpg Quenton_icon.jpg

Summary: Connor, Nicholas and Quenton try to hold things together.

Date: October 10, 2012

Log Title: Torn Apart

Rating: R

Small Church - Holding Cell

Dim lights hang from the high ceiling giving just enough light to see decently, not that there is much to see in the concrete room. The tall ceiling goes up at least twenty feet and the blinking red lights of cameras in each corner are visible, there is no privacy here. There are no windows and the only door into room seems to be a solid sheet of steel from this side. The sent of stale, musty air, hangs about the room. Bolted against two of the walls, at a height of two feet, are steel benches, which seem to double as the only thing to sleep on as well. A steel toilet, with a sink on the top, is situated in the corner for those who need it.

It hasn't been easy trying to get from point A to point B with half of your limbs broken, but Nicholas has been determined to try. He's been staying along the walls, and currently he has one arm on the cement to steady himself as he hops on one foot. Every four of five hops he has to stop and rest for a bit, leaning against the wall. "I can't let them make me feel helpless." Nick mutters to himself as a form of encouragement.

And then he's up, his unbroken arm slung across Quenton's shoulder, the red eyed boy grunting. He's not super strong, but he still has more muscles then most people, and so he's at least strong enough to support the other boy. "You're not helpless. Helpless means you don't got help," he says, quietly, subdued.

Nicholas opens his mouth to protest but shuts it quick. "Thanks, I know I have you guys. Maybe helpless isn't the word but more, horribly lacking self reliance? What happens if I'm in here alone." Nicholas says shrugging a shoulder. "I think That Handler jerk is the worst one here, has he gotten his hands on anyone else?"

"I don't think so, but uh…" Silence for a moment. "I don't think we can let him have Connor," Quenton murmurs, leading Nicholas towards the sink. "I don't know, I just… I think it will be bad if he gets his hands on Connor," he breathes. His burns are still terrible, but he isn't as beat up as Nicholas is at the moment.

"I'm really worried about Connor, and Warlock…he's tougher than I thought." Nicholas says. "He said if I'd cooperate with him, he'd get Connor his meds but I guess breaking my arm and leg wasn't cooperation enough. He also threatened to shoot you….I guess he didn't think Warlock was important enough to me to threaten but…I just keep praying for a rescue to come."

"He hasn't touched Warlock just yet and Connor is an easy target," guesses Quenton, shaking his head as he sprawls Nicholas against the sink for now, then leans against the wall nearby, his good hand supporting himself. "My next session with him's soon. He -promised-. As if I'm counting on him." His face blanches. "If rescue does come? I just hope they get this collar off me as soon as they can. Just so I can get a little revenge."

"Connor's really the only one fighting back." Nicholas says trying to get back over to one of the benches to sit down, using Quenton's help. "I know they plan on killing us, I don't know why they're keeping us alive. And Warlock said one of them let it slip like us four were taken here for a reason, I just don't have a clue why and it's bugging me. I wish I knew what it was I was going through all this for."

"Reverend Stryker saw the four of us doing something," explains Quenton, quietly, releasing an exhale. "And I want to fight back, but everytime I get the idea, I think they're going to hurt one of you guys." He draws out an exhale. "Not to mention I don't have the ridiculous amount of training Connor has," he adds, shaking hi head. "I never needed it, though."

"What do you mean saw the four of us doing something? I haven't done anything with you, Connor and Warlock at the same time." Nicholas says not even really sure who Reverend Stryker is. "I want to fight back too but until the Handler, I never got a chance too. He offered to give me my powers back to be his lab monkey and I offered to crush his windpipe if he did. That's when he said he was gonna go shoot you in the leg so I decided to cooperate. That was also after he broke stuff." He says frowning. "How are we supposed to fight back when they've got everything against us and we've just got our mouths.

"I can't help but wonder how they got Connor," admits Quenton. "Guy can teleport. He can be anywhere he wants to be. Hell, he has mastery over powers he lost," he mutters, just shaking his head. "Anyway, this Reverend guy apparently can see the future, saw us doing something. I don't know. He's also not a mutant, according to the guy who killed your folks."

Nicholas flinches at the last statement. "I don't know, we can ask him how they got him. Maybe him talking about it will help him keep focused on something. They hit me with something that took away my powers. I panicked, there was smoke, a large group of them and it just causes everything to just come back and I start panicking in fear, and I had Sophie looking to me to save her but…I couldn't even save myself. By the time I was finally starting to calm down and focus on things, it was too late." Nick narrows his eyes and clenches his jaw. "I swear, if I get the chance to kill that man, I will."

"I was with Shane. We fought." There's some dark glee briefly on Quenton's face, his lips twisting in that cruel smirk he usually reserved for classmates he's insulted. "We fought hard." He sighs. "I thought I won, we won, but I got shot in the back." He lifts a hand up to the back of his neck. "They're using some weird meta that can penetrate my skin easy. I mean, I've always been stabbable, but not that anything deep."

"It's some type of drug, it takes away your powers, and quick. I didn't even know there were drugs that could do that but I assume it's only temporary since they put these on us." Nicholas says moving the collar with his good hand. "Hey Quenton…I know I shouldn't be talking like this but I'm gonna tell Connor and Warlock too. If something happens and one of us has to stay behind or one life can save three….I'll be that fall guy for you all." Nick turns his head away from Quenton almost afraid of admitting that.

"Shut up," Quenton says darkly. "I'm not leaving this place without you." His hand moves to grip Nick's shoulder, hard, though of course it isn't the crushing strength he has without the collar. "You hear me? I'm not getting out of here without you. If you stay behind, I'm staying, too. So don't talk like that. If one of us is dying, they're not dying alone."

"I'm not trying to condemn myself, I'd like to get out of here alive, I want to get out of here alive it's just…" Nicholas pauses and reaches up to grip the hand on his shoulder. "When they shoved me in that dark box, I was just thinking, you have Shane, Warlock and Connor both have their family, I don't really have anyone like that. But, it means a lot to me Q, thanks, I won't leave without you either."

"You got me, then?" wonders Quenton. "We're leaving this place together or not at all." He lifts his hand up to his collar again tugging at in vain. "I don't know what to, though. With Connor down we won't learn to fight. You have broken limbs. I can't imagine what they're going to do to us next. I don't know if they're just… the guy who killed your family, he said something about breaking us, then showing the world."

"So it sounds like…I don't know what it sounds like." Nicholas says, he just understands the 'breaking' part. "I know they're trying to break us physically and mentally, I just don't know why besides they hate us. And right now I'm useless in a fight, even when The Handler gave me my powers back I was having trouble with them, but then they take a lot of concentration if I'm doing anything but moving something. I think I can take whatever they can throw at us a long as I don't get used as a post-it note or suffer more broken limbs."

"I have to admit, if they gave me the chance you did I would have killed someone. Whether I'd have wanted to or not. I'm a little scared that if a rescue does come and they show up, as soon as the collar gets off, I explode." Quenton blows out some air. "And the weird part is, I want to." His eyes draw over Nicholas. "You're gonna have that scar for life. If we get out of this, are you prepared for that?"

Nicholas shakes his head. "I don't know, but do I have a choice? It seems like such a small thing to be worried about when I'm more thinking, when are they gonna come through that door next, are we gonna get out of here…it just doesn't seem as important right now." Nicholas says looking down at his leg. "What scares me, what happens if my arm or leg doesn't heal right, what happens if I can't ever get on a horse again because of it. That scares me more. As for if you got the chance, if they were threatening to shoot one of us if you killed or hurt one of them, would you still take that chance?"

"I don't know if the rage would give me a choice. If I had a choice, I wouldn't. I just… don't know if it'd give me the choice," Quenton says, maybe a little defensively. "It's why I'm trying to talk about us getting out of here. It's easier to talk about what may or may not happen in here," he mutters. "You'll be okay. The school has a wicked medical facility, they had plasma treaters that helped keep my face together."

Nicholas looks down at his hands and stays quiet for a while. "I don't know Quenton, all I can do is pray it does give you a choice. I know you don't believe in God and I'm not asking you too, just…I do. Sometimes just believing that God is watching over us during all this, it helps. I know most would be asking why me and blaming him for neglecting but, God can't be there all the time for everyone, you gotta take responsibility and survive the best you can. It's one of the few things that keeps me from completely losing it."

"I don't believe in God," Quenton agrees, shaking his head, while he leans back, rubbing his face. "I'm sorry. I can't say anything to you that'll make this better, especially when we're bringing up God." His eyes lift to the ceiling. "This is frustrating for me. I don't know what to say. There's other people probably in prisons going through worst than us."

"I'm not asking you to say anything, just talking to talk. It helps. When I'm alone here, with just my thoughts, all I can think about is the situation we're in. When I'm talking to you or Lock, just any subject is a welcome one. Anything to make me stop thinking how miserable I am, even for five minutes, is welcome." Nicholas says turning his head to face Quenton. "There probably are, but honestly it doesn't make me feel better."

"I used to believe in God, back when I was Avenger Boy. I -prayed- to have superpowers, prayed for a life more interesting than the one I had. Now here I am, rotting in a cell, waiting to be tortured because I can crush a man's skull by squeezing a little." Quenton lifts a hand up to rub his face, before grinning crookedly at Nicholas. "Just desserts, right? I'm reaping what I sow."

"Don't blame yourself for this and don't, for one second, think you're at fault for this. It's there fault that all of this has happened, we're just the unfortunate ones." Nicholas says in a firm voice, almost like he's also trying to believe his own advice as well. "What do you mean by just desserts?"

"I killed people, Nick. I killed my own father, the person who cared the most about me. The only family member that's never hated me." His hand lifts, pressing to his face. "Just desserts. And stop saying you don't have anyone. You have Shane, too, she's your best friend. And you got me. I know we've butted heads before, Hell, I think that's the reason we're so cool now. I don't know."

"I can't imagine what that's like." Nicholas says quietly, having to live with that on his shoulders. "I feel enough guilt that, because of me, my Mom, Dad and Bodie got killed. It's not my fault but there's this guilt that just doesn't let me be happy. Everyone expects you to be able to just deal with it and move on but I can't….I can't Quenton. And you, I didn't want you to have to feel this Q. I'm not going to say at least you got time with him, or at least you have your memories and all that other bullshit people say to try to make it feel better cause that's exactly what it is, bullshit."

"You've lost everything. I can't imagine what that's like, either," Quenton admits, releasing a breath. "You've even lost your home, when I had a home to go back to. Hell, if I went back to my house, my family probably wouldn't have all died." His fingers drum along the ground, and he stares at them as they do. "We have weird damage," he finally claims, his eyes lifting up to the other mutant.

"We've got more issues than the New York Times." Nicholas says with an amused smile crossing his face. "There's always going to be the 'what ifs'. Always. If I didn't go inside when I noticed the door open and slightly off it's frame and used my cellphone to call the police, maybe my folks would still be alive, there are so many what if's…" He rests his head back against the wall and his eyes glance downwards at Quenton. "It's why we get along, what did you say a while back, misery loves company well, we make good company for each other. We can be ourselves around each other and not worry about some fartwagon thinking that it's to just ignore what's inside and smile because they think you should."

"Oh, please," Quenton says in exasperated good-nature, the current predicament forgotten in their conversation, even has his burned hand twitches. "We be ourselves no matter what the others think, we can just tolerate each other," he claims, knocking his head back against the wall. "Nigel and me were going to come save you guys. Before I got caught. We were going to have Theo lend me a suit that'd be like armor against the darts."

"I couldn't tolerate you at first." Nicholas says with a chuckle. "Theo, can't really tolerate him either, but I'll have to thank Nigel and Theo if I ever see them again. And thanks, for planning a rescue. Glad to know I'd be missed." Nick is serious as he says that. "Nigel…that guy is crazy, he's so much more powerful than I thought."

"Yeah, he is powerful alright," Quenton agrees, quietly, letting the back of his head knock back into the wall. "To be honest, I just… well. Warlock's an innocent, you know? And you're one of my best friends." He shrugs his shoulders. "And you know I'm not… used to that." He draws out an exhale. "Anyway. If we ever see them again. I don't know. I'm not optimistic."

"He's doing good for an innocent though. He's a good guy." Nicholas says trying to move from sitting on the bench to sitting on the floor. There's lots of wincing as he moves slowly. "I can't say I'm optimistic, I'm terrified about a lot of things but Lock seems convinced we'll get out of here so I just hold onto hoping he's right."

From the corner, having been curled up in a ball most of this time, Connor stirs and begins to sit up. The left side of his face is a bit of a wreck, from the scar that goes from the top of his head to just through his eyebrow, to the face that his lip is swollen and the eye is swollen shut from the beating he took. He croaks out the word, "Water…" Licking at his split lip and looking around a moment.

Quenton grabs up the bowl that's typically used for food, heading for the sink, stealing a glance over to Connor, before running the water, scrubbing the bowl out with his knuckles at the moment. When it's reasonably free of tomato sauce stains, he fills it with water, then turns it off and heads over to Connor, taking to a knee beside him with a wince as he has to support himself on his freshly burn-scarred hand.

"Morning Connor." Nicholas says having long since lost track of what time of day it is, or even what day of the week or month it is. "Quenton's getting you some water seeing as I can't really walk much at the moment." He says from where he's sitting on the floor stretching his broken leg out in front of him.

Connor mumbles out, "I bit someone. He wanted to cut on my face, so I bit him. I got the one who likes shocking you again." As he takes the bowl, one hand still shaking, some electrical burns along his right arm, leaving the hand a bit of a claw. Sipping at the water from the bowl, he sighs once, and then says, "Pain's keeping the worst at bay… but… we have to get out. Doesn't matter this point." Shaking his head, "Doesn't matter. They're gonna kill us. They expect Quenton… expect me to fight." It's then his good eye looks at Warlock, "It's on him."

"What do you mean?" wonders Quenton, glancing over to where Warlock is, while he rises slowly, wincing. His hand moves to his collar again, trying to adjust it, wincing at the part digging into his flesh. "I can still feel the rage, but it's very faint. We could try to draw it out, but I doubt we'd want it to work. Fuck, I doubt even more it'd work," he says, quietly.

"I'd be more afraid of the Rage taking over and you doing even more you'd regret." Nicholas doesn't want to outright say 'you might kill us too'. "It's on Lock, how so?" He asks looking over at the sleeping teen. "It's easy to say we have to get out but the how is kind of the impossible part. We're powerless and those guys…" Nick closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he speaks again it's in a much quieter voice. "Those guys have everything on us and we have nothing on them. They've got us in a position where if we fight, we lose, if we don't fight, we lose."

Moving in closer with the bowl of water, and Quenton, he settles and then begins whispering, but his voice is still husky and laced in pain, and every so often there's a spasm in his right arm, where the bright red of the burns there sting at him. The rest of the bowl he uses to dab at that with what's left of his shirt, "Nick's too hurt, Quenton… they watch us closer for the outbursts… the fight. But 'lock? They don't watch him as close as us. He's the one they think they've got beaten. He's the one who can buy us the out. If he can be…" His eyes wince shut and his jaw clamps as he dabs at the burn-wound, "V-vicious… enough… we have a shot. But… it's got to be the right g-guards… th-the right moment. We've… only got one shot."

"What do you mean? What's that going to do but get him hurt?" Quenton wonders, dropping to a crouch, his good hand on the ground, his burnt hand clenched into a fist, wrapped with the last of Nicholas's shirt, his own shirt having been lost a long time ago. They're running out of shirts. "We couldn't leave without him," he adds more quietly. "He's the best of us."

Nicholas's eyes go wide with fear. "One shot, they're going to kill him if he doesn't get it right, and his right arm isn't working so great either." He says defensively. "I know it's great to think of a plan in all, but you should get to know him before sending him to the wolves!" Nick's grown to feel a bit protective over Warlock from their time together. He then looks over at Quenton and gives him a sad sort of smile. "It's back to what I was saying before, if you three can get out, leave me behind…." But there seems to be less conviction in his voice than earlier. "Connor, I know you want to fight, I know you want to get out of here but we've lost and we just have to wait to either die or get rescued…"

That one good eye begins to tear up as Connor replies to Nick, meeting both his eyes, "No. We all leave, or none of us do. Maybe you don't get it, Nick…" The anger piercing that long held veil, and there's something cold, and dangerous in that eye now, counterpointed by the run of a tear… something to make Nick thing of staring into the eye of a wolf back at the ranch, "Rashmi didn't wait for us to rescue her… Neither did Jill… and Shane sure as shit would not wait. They did everything to try and figure out a way to get out, without knowing if anyone could find them, or rescue them. We have US. Broken bodies, beaten up… but I am NOT giving up. Warlock can buy Quenton and I the moment we need. He can get us that little chance. But everyone leaves. I am not leaving you behind. Any of you. Any. Of. You."

"So Warlock tries to buy us the moment we need," Quenton murmurs, staring at Warlock, before looking up at the ceiling. "What makes you think they can't hear us? Then again, I don't care," he admits. "Hear us or not, I am sick of it. I'm sick of just waiting to die." He scratches at the bridge of his nose. "So if Warlock buys us the moment we need," he starts again. "Then we fight. Then what? How do we get out? What's the -plan- after that?"

"They also had someone in the inside helping them. Jill let herself be turned into a Vampire in order for them to be able to escape." Nicholas says quietly as he's not as enthusiastic as the other two. "Believe me I don't want to spend another minute as their punching bag, I'm just scared, what happens if we fail?"

Connor turns his bad eye towards Nick, and the he pokes at the muscle beside one of the younger man's fractured leg, "They kill us. Probably beat us to death in anger. You know anger releases adrenalin, which makes you-…" Stopping himself and squeezing his eyes shut as he bangs the side of his head with his good hand, "Stopit Stopit STOPIT…" It's a couple moments of rocking there and snarling to get himself back into his right mind again, "If Warlock can start the ball, we can get two of the guards in here… we can beat them, but we can also take their stuff. The guards we want are ones who have cellphones. Cellphone. Cell… I gotta… I need to focus." Once more he pauses, "Someone… smack me. PLEEEEASE."

Rage or not, you don't have to tell Quenton twice to hurt something. Well, maybe you do when he has strength, because he has to be delicate. But in this case the less injured part of Connor's face gets a heavy slap. Ka-pow. Connor's training can make him take a punch, so the slap isn't too hard, but Quenton's still two hundreds pounds of ridiculously solid muscle, even without powers.

Nicholas grits his teeth to try to deal with the pain, letting out a grunt through his gritted teeth. The tears that come are either from him closing his eyes to hard or from fear and pain. The fact that he pales a bit is a sign that it hurts, a lot, especially since it's not set or healing right. He takes some deep breaths and pulls up his one good leg so he can bury his head into it staying quiet as Connor's plan scares him.

The smack knocks Connor over onto his bad side, causing some spit and a little blood to come out of his mouth… but then he pushes up off the floor, and nods once, "Thanks." Looking towards Nick, he shudders a couple times, and then gulps, "You feel that? That's pain. Pain mean's you're alive, Nick. You. Are. Alive." And then suddenly he hooks his good arm over Quenton, and pulls him close, and just leans on him, eyes closed, "Pain means you're alive. It sucks… you have a broken leg, I have voices in my head screaming at me over the pain to do things… and Quenton wants to kill someone. This is the worst vacation ever, and I want to lodge a complaint with the cruise director. Right in his skull. Nick… we need a conscience. We need someone to tell us it's okay to stop. Do you get it?"

"I want to kill two people. The one that killed Nick's family and the Handler," Quenton mutters. "Which, well, is a lot less then usual. Typically I wanna kill everyone. This collar thing is calming me down more then anything has before, even empaths." He draws out a sharp breath. "Either way, we go strike until we get a cell phone, and then what? Get thrown back into the cell? Do they have service where we are? I know we're in a Church, but do you know where the Church is?"

When Nicholas looks up at Connor, his face is filled with tears he can't stop. "You don't think I know that Connor?! Every day since those guys killed my parents, I've lived with it. It reminds me that I survived and they didn't. I know I'm alive right now, I know you three are, and that's what matters. I don't know if tomorrow we're going to be or not. I was face to face with the guy who lead the murder of my family, and I couldn't do a damn thing. They're fucking with us till they decide to kill us, I know that, and I know we're just sitting around like lambs to a slaughter but, if something happens and Warlock can't pull it off, or we manage to get only a few feet and get caught again, then what? If we're lucky they'll break an arm and a leg of once of us to teach a lesson, that's the best case scenario, the worst case is they kill us because of it. It's not easy to just sit here and let them do this but right now….any plan is just a Hail Mary. Are you willing to bet our lives on a Hail Mary?"

"Yes." Connor says, simply and with as much confidence as a trembling voice can put into it, "Yes, we kick their asses, we get a cellphone, we get out of here… and dial 911… we dial anyone we know. We dial SHIELD. If we have to, we jack a car, steal a taxi. Rules don't matter, because this is our lives." Turning his good eye to Quenton, "So what if we have no powers. So what if it's one chance. It's all we got, we're taking it. Because anything else… is the same as death."

"I can't fight like you can," Quenton reminds, nose giving a twitch as his wrapped hand begins to receive a massage from his good one. "All I know is I'm not leaving without Nick and 'Lock. But if we can get you outside of here, you can get us help," he tells Connor. "Are we in the city? I've not yet seen a window."

Nicholas lowers his head feeling drained. "I guess it's either die here or die trying to escape then?" His voice sounds weak as he says that. "Maybe if one of us escapes, that's all we need…."

Connor starts giggling, and then cuts it off as he looks at Quenton, "I can't fight like I could fight… I don't have med, I can't block with my right arm, I have burns on one leg, and I have no depth perception. I'm running on fumes, but when they beat me this last time… I had to tell myself… no more. Not one more. Not for one of you either. Either they kill us, or we get out. No more." Beginning to rock, but he reaches over and puts his bad arm over Nick's good side, "You're my student… if I left you behind, I'd betray everything I taught you… and I'd betray everything that means to ME."

"They're tearing me up, too. They're tearing us all up," Quenton says, voice a little hoarse. "And the Handler guy, he's like… fucking huge, and stronger then most people. But if you're going to fight, I'll fight with you. I don't like backing down for a fight," he mumbles, sniffling, closing his eyes. "Fuck. They have a guy who can see the future. Magic or something. They took us because he saw something. Saw something we did. Something that they don't want us to do."

"He's Shaq on steroids and he messes with your head, or tries to." Nicholas says his voice taking on a more defeated tone as he leans a bit into Connor. "I'm scared, I'll admit it. I know what these guys can do, and if we mess up…are you prepared if it fails?"

Connor mumbles back, "They're going to kill me, Nick… how much more prepared can I be?"

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License